Just a little update

We are home, we are safe, and our home and neighborhood are intact. We went to Yosemite and enjoyed some time away from the smoke and the stress of watching our county burn. Once my head is screwed on straight again, I promise more stories and more pictures. For now, enjoy your Halloween tomorrow night!

Going to a safer place.

If you've been watching the news much, you know that most of San Diego county is on fire. I've lost track of how many fires there are right now, last count I saw was 17. While we are miraculously not under a mandatory evacuation (as more than 600,000 are in the county), we are nonetheless leaving.

Pray for those who have lost everything and pray for a quick end to the firestorm. The smoke is thick and it's not easy to breathe. So we are headed out to cleaner air and safer surroundings.

It's a tooth!

Yep, he's four. And that's his first lost tooth. I think he's taking after his sister. Little Miss lost her first tooth at 4 and 8 months. He lost his at 4 and 5 months. Good thing the tooth fairy is loaded!

I have a hole in my head!

Listening to kids is like listening to a skipping record. (uh-oh...did I just date myself there?) Sometimes, the words come tumbling out and you listen intently, but you're still not sure what just happened. Case and point...Mighty Man at breakfast:

Yesterday, I had a hole in my head.

Do you have it today? (I asked, because as a mother, I had to know.)

No, it's gone. But if you open up my hair, you might see it. But I'm making it so you cannot take my hair apart, all right? No one made a hole in my head. Am I right? So, I am right.

Whew. So my question for you is this: does he have a hole in his head or not? Oh, and in case you missed seeing his angelic face...here he is (and yes, he regularly moves our couch...the sleeper portion...that thing is heavy!).

"My heart was screaming NO!"

It's that time of the year again. Yep, time to pack up the kids and head out to pediatrics for our annual flu shots. If you don't get a flu shot, you really should. The flu is nasty stuff. And I'm not talking about a little cold that imitates the flu, I'm talking about true influenza. A lot of people think they "get the flu every year" or have had the flu. Probably not. Lots of viruses imitate the flu virus, but few are actually as bad as the real thing.

The flu is sudden. "I got sick around 4pm on Friday." Not "I got sick a couple of days ago." The flu makes you wish you were dead, or at least totally unconscious. A cold just makes you achy and whiny. With the flu, you're so sick, you can't whine. See the difference? It's a big one, and trust me when I say, a shot (and the piddly little side effects, if you get them) is nothing compared to getting true influenza.

So, we went for our annual flu shots. Normally Little Miss pitches a fit the size of Texas on steroids. It's not pretty. At all. This year, we made her go first (nice, huh?) and made her relax. She sat, squealed a bit, but then was amazed to find out that it wasn't as bad as she thought it was. Whew! One down, 5 to go.

Monkey Boy sat down and took his like...well, a monkey. He giggled a bit when it was over. Not bad, this could be a record for us! Then the Lizard went (and dads don't cry) followed by me (and no, I didn't cry either). Next up was Little Dude, who, unfortunately, had fallen asleep in the car on the way over and was still sound asleep...right up until he got hit with an alcohol wipe and a needle...OUCH! Needless to say, he was a little peeved at the whole situation. Can't say as I blame him.

Now, to fully appreciate how Mighty Man took his shot, you must understand that he is very, VERY strong. And built like a brick house. When he has it in his head that something is or is not going to happen, well, then that's that. Let's just say that he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of getting a shot. At all. Not even one itty bitty, teeny tiny, little bit. So he fought, but I'm pretty good at battening down all flailing appendages. He got his shot.

Later on the way out to the car, he discussed the chain of events leading up to his inoculation. "I didn't want a fue shot, mommy."

You didn't? Why not?

"Wewl, my heart didn't want a fue shot. My heart was scweaming NO! Didn't you heaw it, mommy?"

I had to admit I didn't hear his heart screaming no. I promised to listen harder next time. And he promised to consider letting his nose get the flu medicine instead of his arm. He said he needs to ask his heart. He's always so serious about things. It really cracks me up.

Friends of Little Miss

Our daughter has many friends. Two legged friends, four legged friends, six legged friends, even some of the 8 legged variety. She's passionate about animals, insects and other flavors of critters in general. I suppose it's a good thing that lizards, crickets, spiders, snakes and katydids don't phase me. Black widows, yes. And rattlesnakes. But she can identify both of those and avoids them.

What really cracks me up is that Mighty Man has an intense disliking of all varieties of creepy crawlies, except for worms. So while his older brother and sister catch and torment study these vermin, he's howling at the top of his lungs that there's a pinchy bug, or a spider, or some other heinous beast about to attack him. Meanwhile, I just sit back and laugh. Or take pictures.

This was one particularly hoppy katydid. Darn thing would hardly sit still for a mug shot. Except on Little Miss's head. Which didn't bother her one bit.

And here's her friend, Cricky:

She was just a little disappointed that Cricky wasn't happy enough in her hand to sing. Maybe it was his one and a half antenna set up? Maybe he needed both to feel well enough to sing? I wouldn't really know, since I'm not a cricket. At least, I wasn't last time I checked.

When in doubt...

When your main line is backed up and you have no toilets and four kids who use the potty and you have to go yourself...pack up the kids, head out to the library (to use the potty, not to check out books) and then off to the beach for the day. It's a sanity saver.

For your viewing pleasure...some pictures from our trip to the beach:

This is where we went. La Jolla Shores, just north of the Children's Beach. It was a perfect day for the beach...why? Well, because there was no one else there except us, of course.

Here's Monkey Boy doing his monkey boy thing: Scoop up the water, dump in the sand, transport it somewhere, empty the bucket. Repeat.

Little Miss having a quiet moment on a rock. She needs her quiet time, you know. That special time to contemplate life away from the noise of her little brothers.

Oops! Hey! I thought this rock was high ground! Where'd all the water come from???

Little Dude, doing his little dude thing: Hi Mommy!

It really was a gorgeous day. I'll give up a rainy Saturday to do school in order to get outside and explore on a day like this. It does wonders for your mental health!

I've come to the conclusion...

I've been thinking lately. And I think I have the answer. No, it's not 42 (the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything...please tell me you "get" this one). I'll tell you what it is, though.

Homeschooling and housework are mutually exclusive. I can have a clean house and clean laundry. OR...I can teach our children and have happy kids. Tough choice, isn't it?

So if you're ever in my house and you notice the fine artwork on the carpet, you'll know I'm doing my job. And yes, that is indeed 10 colors of dry erase marker decorating our wall to wall carpet in the living room. I'm quite certain that you could sustain a small village in a third world country from the collection under the dining room table. I'm not saying it's all food, just saying you could probably sustain them for a good month or so. Maybe we should get a dog, then I wouldn't have to clean under the table quite as often. But then, that would be two (or ten) more things for me to do on a daily basis, so never mind.

Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed and over worked, all I have to do is look around me. I'm not talking about looking at the mountain ranges of laundry needing to be washed or folded or put away. And I'm certainly not talking about the piles of dishes in my sink. No, I'm talking about looking at other moms around me.

I don't mean that I pull others down to feel better about myself. I just think I feel a little more normal when I see others around me struggling to run the same race. It's like I'm not the only one. We each have our strengths. But when I look at friend X's house, and see that my disaster area is Martha Stewart's home in comparison, I feel just a touch better. But she has her laundry done. So I look at friend Y's house, and see her piles upon piles upon piles of undone laundry, and feel good that I'm two laundries from being "caught up." But her living room is immaculate. And her kitchen is clean.

So there you have it. All my dirty secrets. When my house is at its filthiest, that's when I'm working hardest with my children, and leaving them with memories to last a lifetime.

Dear Little Dude,

I'm so proud of you for using the potty without me having to ask. You're doing a great job and I really am pleased that you like to use the potty on your own. Please keep up the good work!

However...I have just two small details I'd like to clear up with you before we move on, okay?

First, let's talk about using commodities available to us wisely, shall we? When you go tinkle, you probably only need a square or two for the little dribbles. Maybe even 3 or 4 squares if things got a bit out of control. Using the whole (brand new) roll of toilet paper in one shot is a tad excessive and really a waste of our resources. I'm not saying you shouldn't use toilet paper after using the potty, I'm merely suggesting some restraint in that area.

Second...oh, how to put it. I really appreciate your screeches alerting me to the fact that you had flushed and were alarmed at the rapidly rising flood waters. Nothing brings a mommy out of a reverie faster than hearing "uh oh, mommy. Uh oh. OH NO!" That being said, once water is everywhere, it does not mean that our bathroom has now become the community swimming pool. Please, step aside, seek out higher ground, and DO NOT PLAY IN THE TOILET WATER! It's bad enough that I have to go wading, fishing and paddling through it, but to then also see you splashing and laughing...spreading the joy that is the toilet water everywhere? That...yeah, that, is just too much for my delicate senses.

Love,
Mama Lizard

Hardest part of being a mom.

The hardest part of being a mom is when your little monkeys are sick. And you know they're sick when they don't want to play in a bounce house and ask to go home. My poor little guys.

Both Monkey Boy and Little Dude have pneumonia. Unfortunately, they have the contagious, bacterial variety, so I've got my fingers crossed that the other two don't get it. Meanwhile, I hope the antibiotics kick in really soon. :o(

Science experiment

You know, teaching the kids at home always leads to some very interesting observations and questions. Take, for instance, a recent conversation I had with Little Miss.

1. Define the question.
"Mommy, is lead magnetic?"

2. Make observations/conduct preliminary research.
"What do you think? What makes you think lead is magnetic?" Is lead a metal?

At this point, she showed me her math page and clearly demonstrated how, once she wrote on it, it became "stuck" to her binder. Based on her observation, she completed the next step in the scientific method.

3. Form a hypothesis.
"Lead is definitely magnetic."

4. Make a prediction.
Each time she would peel her page from the face of the binder, she would "re-magnetize" the page by writing on it. She predicted that the page would "stick" to her binder as long as there was writing (lead) on the paper.

5. Perform experiment and collect data.
So we decided to get a new, clean sheet of paper to compare with the first sheet. She put the new sheet on her binder and held it up. The paper slid a bit, stopped and then peeled off. Then she put her math page back on and held up the binder. Same thing...it slid, then fell off.

She looked at me, devastated that her math page no longer stuck to her binder. I reached over, rubbed it around a bit and then told her to pick it back up. She lifted her binder, and was amazed to see the math page securely adhered to the binder once again. Then she peeled it off and replaced it with the clean sheet and looked to me for help. I rubbed the lead free sheet on the face of the binder and left her to ponder the curious effect this small act had.

6. Analyze data.
"Mommy, how come they both stick to my binder?"

At this point, she began to think that maybe the lead had nothing to do with the paper sticking to the binder. She finally realized that her binder wasn't made of metal, but rather of plastic. And that it didn't matter if the paper had writing (lead...really graphite, but hey, who really cares when you're 8 years old??) or was a fresh sheet. Now we were starting to get somewhere.

7. Interpret data and draw conclusions.
After rubbing the paper against the plastic a few more times and listening to the sounds of the page peeling off the plastic, I suggested that perhaps it wasn't magnetism we were dealing with. I asked her if there was anything else she could think of that might make those noises and create the appearance of the paper and binder being magnetic. She thought for a bit, while peeling the paper up, laying it down, peeling it up, laying it down....

I could see her brain working. Turning "the facts" over and over. Mulling the data and trying to find something else that could explain the attraction between the binder and the paper. She finally came up with static electricity.

So maybe this wasn't the most exciting thing you've read today, but this is my life. This is what I do, day in and day out. I love watching the cogs turning. I love asking the questions and watching the pieces fall into place. I love to see the eager excitement as we dig through layers of questions.

I love my job. I really do.

What's on the list?

"Mommy! We need to go to Toss-Toe!"

"Really? Why?"

"Betause I have a wist. Woot (look). See? We need milt, bwead, shot-a-wet, and ba-ton."

"Are you sure? Why do we need chocolate? And bacon?"

"Wewl, we need shot-a-wet for shot-a-wet milt. And we used the ba-ton for bweatfast, so we need more ba-ton."

Mighty Man has a good heart and the cutest ever lisp. If only those hard C sounds weren't such a challenge for his poor little mouth. I think I see a trip to Costco in our future, seeing as how he already has a list! Why isn't making shopping lists this easy for me?

It's a size what???

Recently I've been trying to lose the "baby" weight. You know, the magical stuff that accumulates around your middle when you're not looking. It's annoying as heck. I think my abs have been on hiatus long enough. It's time to do something about it.

So I have. I've lost about 20 pounds this year. I feel pretty darn good and am now fitting into clothes that have been long lost in the depths of my closet. I've been trading in my baggy sweats for cute capris and pants that actually fit me. It feels pretty good.

The down side of all of this, is that I don't own pants in my current size. I have bunches of size 8's and only one pair of size 10's that fit. Well, let me rephrase that. I recently pulled a pair of really nice size 10 khaki dockers out of my closet. They're practically brand new. I bought them after I had Little Miss, and before I had kid #2, 3 and 4. It was like finding money in my pocket. I thought I had hit the fashion jackpot!

Right up until I pulled those puppies on. Hmm. Um...hmm. Well. Ok, right now, fashion is having pants fall along the hip line. Makes for interesting muffin tops (you know, the fluff that spills over the belt) when you pick a pair that is too small, but otherwise, it's a very comfortable way to wear pants. Now imagine a pair of pants from fashion statements gone by...remember the pants that went up to your ribcage? You know, they gave you that fashionably tight little waist without having to have functioning abs? Yeah, that's what these particular pants do. Complete with pleats in the front. Gah.

I didn't realize that I'd grown accustomed to the new fashions, until I tried on The Pants From The Back Of The Closet. Usually, I'm not one to follow trends or demand the latest fashions. I simply go with what is comfortable and what I like without regard to what is "in."

I bet you are wondering where I am going with this...just wait. I'll get there, I promise!

So, the turning of the weather, from balmy to simply comfortable, has led me to pillage my closet in search of clothing that fits. This led me to the discovery that I had one pair of jeans that actually fit. That led me to the factory outlets here in Las Vegas in search of some relatively inexpensive pants to add to my wardrobe. My favorite jeans are Lee Riders. They just seem to fit my body well, are not tight, don't rearrange things, and are generally acceptable to my finicky little self.

Oh, and I'm short. Did I mention I'm short? "Regular" or "Medium" are a bit long, so I generally try on Petites first, then move on if a Petite isn't cutting it. So the first pair of pants I pulled off the rack were some size 10's...that could have fit me and the three ladies next to me. Holy hugeness!!! Put those back, grabbed the next pair which were clearly labeled "10P." And they weren't 5 feet wide, either. Pulled them up to see how they were lengthwise...and pulled them up some more...a little bit more...up...up...

Yeah, those won't fit either, lol! Amazon Lady might have fit in those things. Maybe. They came up to my collar bone! Despite the thrill of the hunt, with 4 kids and one very patient husband, I am not really willing or prepared to clear the rack of all size 10's in hopes of finding one pair that fits. I think I'm willing to pay a little extra to have a pair of pants that I can try the first pair on and grab two others on the way out the door, knowing that they will fit, guaranteed. There is certainly a time and a place for outlet stores, just not when I'm looking for pants!

I'm an Aunt, again!

This afternoon, my brother and his wife welcomed little girl #6 to their family:

Lillian Mae
Born 8 Oct 2007 at 1:02 PM PST

10 pounds 13 ounces
20.8 inches

Why did you eat me?

Think you know the answer? We'll see.

Let me preface the question with a little background. We're in the car. The kids are playing quite nicely, which is a rarity at times. In mid-scene, we hear Little Miss ask Monkey Boy, "why did you eat me?"

"Because you looked like purple spaghetti!" But, of course! That's why I eat people, don't you?

FYI

Just so you know, and so you don't send out search parties, we are in Las Vegas for the weekend and have limited connectivity.

Say a prayer or 95 for my sanity and safe travels this holiday weekend. My song for the weekend is "I will survive!"

Towel racks do NOT belong on the floor.

Well, apparently, I didn't have enough to do today. So I thought I would just do some basic home repairs. Let's face it, we all like a good home repair project, right? It's the perfect opportunity to slice open your finger and teach the kids a few new choice words. Because that's what I'm all about...teaching.

I am walking down the hall, minding my own business, when I notice that the towels aren't hung nicely in the kids' bathroom. In fact, they're all on the floor. Kind of like this:


And the wall...looks a little like this:


Oh, that's not good. . . "BOYS!!!" You know it wasn't Little Miss. She's too prim and proper to wreak such havoc and not say anything. Don't get me wrong, she's perfectly capable of destruction. She'd just come tell me right away, that's all. So it had to be a boy.

I find towel rack crises come along more frequently when used as jungle gyms from which to hang. Apparently 5/8 inch drywall with lightweight anchors aren't meant to sustain nearly 50 pounds of swinging weight. Who knew, right? Can you guess the culprit? That's right...Monkey Boy. He was innocently hanging towels from baths and his weight somehow magically transfered to the towel rack and brought it crashing down upon his head. Thankfully, the towel rack was ok, but the wall certainly wasn't. I didn't ask to see if Monkey Boy Extrordinaire had suffered any ill effects from his exploits, but I'm sure he'd tell me if there were any remaining injuries.

It is fixed, for now. It ain't purty, but it's fixed. At least until the next time we weight test the drywall.

Glutton for punishment

Honestly, the last time I worked out was in May. So you'd think that yesterday's foray into quasi workout land with karate would have been enough for my tender little body. Indeed, I still hurt all over. Well, not out and out pain, just "ooooh, that's sore. Mmm, and that, too. Ouch."

So, instead of taking the day off, and allowing my pathetic excuse for a fit body recuperate...I went back for more. At the gym. In a group-X class. Why? Because the scale snarled at me. It wasn't pretty. But why is it that doing a video or dvd at home doesn't create the same level of pain that a group exercise class does? Is it the bravado? The little voice inside begging you not to quit, so no one sees you in a quivery lump of giggly-ness on the floor? Perhaps it's the REALLY big mirrors blasting the truth at you from all sides. Whatever the reason, the group exercise class really works. I'm sore all over now, instead of just sore in a few places.

And I went to this particular class, because it's fun, it moves quickly and I enjoy it. It was a Pilates Pulse class. Until today. Today we had a new instructor, with new ideas. Supposedly she "took it easy" on us. I beg to differ, but maybe that's just me. Today was classic Pilates, from a classically trained and licensed Pilates instructor. Ouch. That's all I have to say. Just ouch.

At least my really awesome other half took pity on me and raced to have the hottub back online a day early. Or maybe he just did that because he knew he'd want it tomorrow after his first karate class. Nah. It's because he loves me. Right, honey? Right?

New muscles

That's right. I have new muscles. Or I have muscles I haven't used in a pathetically long time.

In case you didn't know, we do karate. Yes, me and the mouse in my pocket. No, silly. WE. Us. As a family, sort of. Two years ago my wonderful hubby started Karate for 2 with our daughter. Today was day one of Karate for 2 with our oldest boy and me. So, off we went, dressed in our most comfy, stretchy clothing. Prepared to kiai, kick, stretch, punch and block. But nobody warned me about that pesky horse stance. Ouchy mama!

Ok, so right here (points to inner thigh), here (points to shoulders) and here (points here) hurts. Well, right here. See? There and there it hurts. Fine. Just imagine that more places than I care to mention, hurt. And the hottub? Isn't an option right now. It won't be back in operation until Thursday. I guess I'll go find my friend, Icyhot. It's gotta be around here somewhere.

how rude...

Going along the same lines of my last post...here I am in IE (instead of my friend FireFox)...and lo and behold. What do I have? those lousy, no good, but I can't live without them, stinking, nutty little wysiwyg buttons. Dahgum. Give me one good reason why I can't see them in FF. Go ahead. I dare you.

Thanks for that...

Just when I get Blogger figured out and like the setup...they go and change it. Why? To anger the computer peons like me? Those of us who get it figured out once, get comfortable with it, and then OOPS! They pull the rug out from under our feet.

Bah. Where are my publishing buttons? Why must I now suddenly know these keyboard shortcuts, none of which allow me to c&p my happy little linky-do's. Doggone it. So, out of protest, I'm not posting. Well, I'm not posting much, except my disgust at my link, image, and text buttons being totally gone. Weiners.