H'oh Boy!

I think I just had my first Costco date.  It beats no date at all, and the pizza was good, AND we didn't by a 12 foot Christmas tree.  The conversation was quite nice too, if a bit disjointed, and, wow, the toys and books!  I never go in that section, but it could make for a fun Christmas for the kids.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, the little stinker (the one on the left) who tantrumed for me all day and was not her absolute sweetest, the very one who normally gives me more sugar than anybody else, was cuddling with her big sis and having a marvelous time.

Oh, Man!

I procrastinated all of my important goals until near midnight after a hardworking couple of days trying to make some DIY Roman shades.  Thus, this is my post for today, but I did write...and will post pics, be the project every so humble, tomorrow.

Nightmare on Our Street

That title is full of hype because actually this is about just a little incident that happened in our house today.  It involved a lot of blood, let me tell you.  I am making faux Roman shades for our front windows, and for probably the second time ever I left my rotary cutter blade out.  Stupid.  I was downstairs ironing and Daph came to visit me.  She was pointing at our cat, and then she came over to me and showed me her hand...her very bloody hand.

No tears, no major concern on her part, but on my part, mucho concern.  We followed the bloody trail she had left on the laundry cabinets, a drip on each and every stair and then a nice big area in our dining room and onto the table, where Mom had left her rotary cutter in the middle.  I grabbed a cloth and squeezed her hand in it to hopefully stop the bleeding, and then the phone rang.  I'm so weird about the phone, so I picked up, holding my calm bleeding baby and talked to Matt's piano teacher for a few minutes, keeping the little cute hand above the little cute head.  Then we patched her up.  She ripped them off.  We patched her up again.  She ripped them off, and now we are down to 1 little Band-Aid which I'm hoping she'll leave on overnight.  She is my most get-into-things kid, probably because I am distracted a whole lot more by the 5th kid.  I definitely could not keep 10 kids safe and alive.  Nope.  But so far I am doing fair to above average, at least, I'd say for these 5.  We've been getting a few more mock angry faces and a definite need for more mom cuddling this afternoon and tonight, but I am so thankful because it could have been a lot worse.

When I Grow Up...

Women's libbers beware because the following images may will be unsettling:

 I LOVE the picture below.  I look so haggard, plain and drab in my mousy gray dress, but I am definitely SMILING.  Many days actually are like that (minus the fact I've never owned an ugly gray dress), so at least little Marianne was keeping it real.

What more can I say?  This is from an All About Me Book which we made in 2nd grade.  Oh how I loved and admired the beautiful Mrs. McAdams!  My 8-year-old heart wanted to be part of a big happy family when I grew up, more than anything else.  As I got a little older, teachers (and me) encouraged me to come up with other options because housewife (yikes!) wasn't actually factually a career option.  I strongly favored artist and author for a few years.  Then I got really serious about school; realized boys were no good/untrustworthy/smelly/fickle (sorry, Sweetie and sons, but...).  At that point, I would ask my dad and mom to let me go to career fairs, and I just really wanted to figure out what I should be when I grew up.  Ha!  Like any of us really, REALLY figure that out for a long time...most of us, at least.

Fast forward several years and here I am, "married and have children."  I'm not sure what I found appealing about being a housewife back then, but the part I struggle with now is housekeeping...with 5 cleanliness irresponsible (hey, that's a thing) children...a full time job (which FYI is not my dream - I can never think of it as my career even though I'm going on 12 years of it)...constant tiredness, and, oh yeah, the rest of life.  I am trying very hard to teach my children cleaning tasks and schedules and organization because it is definitely something I had to pick up along the way on my own and am still trying to figure out.  They balk at any such far-fetched ideas, but I'm not giving up.  Disorganization and dirtiness bite, despite what they may think.  I have tried so many different cleaning ideas/routines from Pinterest.  I have learned only a few things that really, really work for me, but no one who spouts off all these brilliant lists and plans and ideas has my exact same situation, so onward goes my search for something that works.

I won't give up.  A clean house, organization, art, craft, fun, it changes the whole mood of a house.  It is the difference between cranky, frustrated moms and dads, family-wide Lego injuries, and all sorts of unpleasantness (not to mention the humiliation when guests surprise you) OR getting that inexplicable energy, positive spirit and joy that comes from knowing where everything is, loving how it looks and wanting to invite people into your home to enjoy all those good feelings with you.  Elusive, but I have to faith, like with everything else, I will get where I need to be, slower than I want to get there, but I will get there.  And maybe then that poor little housewife pictured above will get healthier looking eyes and a new outfit and rock this house with her dazzling smile!

The Saturday After Friday the 13th

First, I have to share what Matt did earlier this week with the groceries I hadn't put away yet.  I love how he did it so symmetrically.  

On this morning's walk, I was enjoying the last hanging on of the greenery of summer.  Those weeping willows are fighters, I tell you.  It was good to be out way earlier than I normally go on Saturday.

 The sunlight was catching the colors in this tree so beautifully against the blue sky.

 I was struck by these prickly pears this morning.  I think that is maybe the fruit of the plant.  In November?  I apparently don't know much about prickly pear cacti.  We had little ones on our farm while growing up, in the lava fields, etc.  Someday, I will have to try some prickly pear...but not from some person's lawn.  It was weird enough I squatted there and took this picture, right?

It's a Great Day to Be Alive...and other Travis Tritt thoughts

Ok, really I have no Travis Tritt thoughts.  I am just feeling unusually happy for a Friday morning which is the second ugliest day of the week for me currently.  It is a good day to be alive.  Fall is attempting to careen into winter temperatures, but there are still lots of beautiful leaves.  I will say, though, Travis did have a good point of being grateful for the simple things.  Oh, how I miss the (what is now) old school country music about family and true love and hard work.  From what I hear during the ONLY time I listen to country music, which would be when I am road tripping solo, country music now is about beer...lots and lots of partying it up on the weekend with beer...and brainless, unbelievably hot, desperate for love girls.  Not my cup of tea (see that, tea...NOT BEER). 

 Any who, moving on, Lily had pulled out her 5th grade pictures to use one on her author page in a book she has made for English class which she gets to have published in color.  Lily has a long and colorful school picture history, but her dad and I think this one is adorable (yep, I took a picture of the picture).  It blows my mind how she has increased in height and mass (that word makes it sound like its a bad thing but, really, completely normal, these growth spurts) about 25% since last year.  I am still holding out for a 6 footer.  She isn't insecure about her height at all, so I think she wouldn't mind either, but clothing her, sheesh, if she or I was stuck on name brands, we would be in debtor's prison.  She had such a rough start to the school, and now she has a few good friends at school, loves YW, and is entering every writing or art contest she hears about.  She isn't overly obsessed with A's, like at all, so sad are her parents about that, but she does relatively well, and it is a relief because, wow, it was not looking so good a couple months ago.  She is so beautiful and so helpful (but oh the attitude or not listening at times - sad but to be expected).  She is still shocked quite often at names she gets called or hears at school and disturbing/crude vocabulary she learns, but I try to just explain facts and point out the moronic and/or uneducated natures of some adolescence who are trying to look cool or fit in or don't get all the information and support they need from home.  Just be kind to people, have integrity always, leave a situation when you feel uncomfortable and make/keep good friends.

Sad preschool story time.  The good news is Shawn appeared to have cared less, but:  It was our turn to take snack yesterday to his second preschool.  Yes, that's right, we signed him up for regular preschool, but the school district decided that not only did he qualify for speech but that he should come his 1 day off from preschool to the school district preschool.  Thus, we had to get the snack and he was able to share things from around the house that start with the letter T.  I was so proud since we only go once a week that I remembered his folder, his snack, AND his share items.  The problem is we packed a tow truck, train, triangle, and some other T toy.  When I asked how it went once we got home, he said, "No toys allowed at school, Mom, so I couldn't share."  Again, he wasn't busted up, but I felt bad that the 1 time he actually gets to have a special day (as once a week means it will probably be once every couple months for him) I didn't happen to have read the school handbook.  Weird how different school in the same district have such different rules, and it's not like he was going to take them out and brag or distract.  It would be a little alphabet discussion and then back in the bag they go but whatever.

 

Lastly, and randomly, because it is ME we're talking about here, weird commercials.  I see hardly any commercials because A) no TV, B) no time but I did see the following 2:

On Youtube I saw the weirdest Hoover cordless running of the bulls commercial because if a bull was tearing through my house you bet I'd be vacuuming up after every little mess he'd make as he was nearly plowing me over.  Yep.  Then, while Lucas and I were dining at SubZero last night (I use the term dining loosely, though we did get the Medium size which is really big), we saw one of those As Seen on TV commercials on the TV there for some kind of automatic nail trimmer with light and push button and safe/nondangerous.  Wow, it was weird, the product a little but the actual commercial/actors in it - B I Z A R R E

It IS a GREAT DAY TO BE ALIVE!

Sometimes Life Is Just Too Funny...

Like last night when Ben came marching proudly up the stairs in a puppy dog Halloween costume from when he was 2.  Hoh boy!  Then he and Shawn just went crazy with digging out old, mostly abnormally small, Halloween costumes, and, Ben, especially, was going for the multilayered look.  At one point, he was up to being a puppy firefighter cowboy ninja jedi...because that's a thing, at least at our house.

We have an official family photobomber (Ben), and he takes his self-appointed duty very seriously.  He is a master!

Below pic is blurry but, oh my goodness, Shawn's face!!!  FYI, he is holding the "banana" which was originally sewn onto the monkey costume from when he was a 1 year old, which, sadly, we couldn't squeeze him into, but we totally tried and tried.  The elephant wedgie was bad enough.  A monkey one?  Hey, even we have boundaries!