Quote Of The Day

"Can't a kid change his mind once in a while?"

said by my 6 yr old at 4:00pm Halloween night when I denied his request to be something other than the knight costume we already had assembled for him to wear.






Halloween photos are up at Flickr. Highlights of our evening include: forgetting all of our flashlights in the van, losing our four year old in the dark neighborhood, wine being given out to adults at one house-(I assure you those two are not related)- and digging through Christmas boxes in the attic to find candles for our pumpkins. All in all, the evening was a rousing success.

The Weekend in Bullet Points

Leaf blower: $300

Gallon of gasoline: $2.50

Number of rakes: 3

Number of rakes that aren't broken: 0

Temperature outside: 68 degrees

Number of huge old deciduous trees lining the yard: too many to count

Number of leaf piles: 1

Number of times the leaves had to be re-piled: 20

Number of new cameras: 1

Number of photos taken with new camera:300

Number of batteries new camera went through: 8

Number of times I said I needed to buy rechargable batteries: 4

Number of children's toys now missing batteries: 1

Number of photos I'll share so as not to bore all of you to death: 23

Doing a running dive into the leaf pile to the amusement of your children: painful, but priceless

All Sugared Up

My latest post is up over at dotmoms.

It is 7:00 am and I still have a residual sugar headache from yesterday. But I needed all the candy for the strength to carve numerous jack-o-lanterns. Yes, NEEDED.

The Best Birth Control

I am about to patent the Best Birth Control Ever®. But Chris, you ask, didn't Rob just have an operation so that you wouldn't have to think about this?

Why yes, yes he did. But we have only recently realized that it was entirely unnecessary and superfluous as we already had access to the BBCE®. We have now begun using it to it's fullest potential.

And I am excited at the prospect of sharing my new found knowledge with others, so that they may partake in the BBCE®.

It is a barrier method that has at it's core an ultra sensitive heat sensor. The heat sensor senses how close the barrier is to the two consenting adults. The BBCE® can be placed entirely on top of one of the adults, or can be placed equidistant between the two consenting adults. The choice is not yours, but rather determined by the barrier device itself. The choices occur in random order so that there will be little temptation to try and outsmart the barrier.

Should anyone try to get out of the bed, causing the temperature in the bed to dip slightly, it will cause BBCE® to immediately sound an alarm. This alarm can only be quieted by both parties resuming their positions on opposite sides of the BBCE® barrier.

If you would like the BBCE®, you should act immediately as it can take up to ten months to recieve one. Construction of a product as effective as this one can not be rushed. Each one is individually crafted specifically for you!


This photo is shown as a representation of the product. Your own BBCE® may vary slightly from the one pictured, but rest assured the slight variations in appearance will not impact it's performance.




There is no warranty or guarantee, real or implied. The BBCE® is not returnable. Results mentioned are not to be considered typical and your results may vary. Proceed at your own risk.

Finally

Okay, I think I have fixed the html so that the posts can be read, no matter what browser you are using.

At least I hope so. Because I am tired of doing it.

At Least We Think We Are Funny

her: So, you dressing up for halloween?
me: Nah, you?
her: No
me:It's all about the kids now, isn't it?
me:Well, except for the candy
her: oh yeah, we are all about the candy
her:the next day I'm all
her: don't know what happened to the candy
me: gosh, dear, the Great Pumpkin must have come when you were sleeping
me: and taken all the Reese's peanut butter cups
her: who are you calling the great pumpkin?
me: Ha!
her:I have eaten my way through so many bags of candy
me: ugh, me too
me: why do I even buy it
me: no one comes to our house
her: because it's so cheap right now
me: it's for the kids
me:that's how I rationalize it
her:who can pass up a huge bag for $1
me:it's practically free!
me:I buy it for the kids
me:and then eat it all so the kids won't have too much sugar
her:you're nice like that
me:I am nice
her: speaking of costumes
her: my friend Jane* wore her wedding dress to the kid's party at school
me: her for real wedding dress?
her: yeah
her: it was very beautiful
her: but slightly odd
me: yeah, I bet all the preschool girls loved it
me: as they wiped their grimy little hands all over the white lace and beadwork
her: can you imagine, fitting in to your wedding dress
me: Hell no
me: But it was a maternity dress
her: Ha!
me:I should wear it
her: no one else would think it was as funny as us
me: no one ever does
her: it would start the gossip mill going
me:OMG, she is pregnant again
her: didn't she just have a baby?
me: how many does she want?
her: she is crazy!
me: we could keep this up all day
her: in theory
me: making fun of me is such a fun a pastime
her: in reality, I have wrapper evidence to hide
me: yeah, good luck with that

You Have Got To Be Kidding Me!

Huh?
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

This is what I was greeted with when I woke up this morning. I had to check my calendar and yes, it is still October. Unfreakingbelieveable.

Halloween And The Best Costume Ever

I clearly remember this Halloween costume. I begged and begged for a store bought costume. Nobody ever had store bought costumes, at least nobody I knew in my little 4 yr old world. I thought they were just the coolest thing ever.

I wanted one of those plastic masks with the elastic band that went around the back of your head making your hair look like you had a really bad case of bed head. The masks severly impaired your vision and I remeber tripping quite a few times that night, finally pushing the mask on to the top of my head. And how I lusted after one of those silky polyester jumpsuits that tied behind your neck, catching the back of your hair and tearing it out small clumps.

The small convenience type store that was near my house had cardboard boxes with a cellophane window on top that would give a peek inside to the costume. Every time we would go to the store I would run over to the aisle where the boxes were and sit down on the dirty linoleum floor and look through all the boxes. My mother would leave me there looking at them, eating my package of Necco wafers, while she shopped. It was the 1970's, people did that back then I guess.

My mother relented that year and bought me a costume, the one and only time she would do so. There were only a couple of boxes to chose from since the majority had already been bought. But still I was thrilled.

The next year it was back to homemade costumes and I was a witch. A witch with a dirty face. Don't I look thrilled? Honestly what is up with that witch make-up? I remember my mother burning the end of a cork and rubbing it all over my face.

Halloween 1974
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

Oh, and please notice the "artwork" hanging in the background. It was made out of little colored pebbles glued on to wood. I loved it and used to run my fingers over it's surface, picking the rocks off. My mother would find the rocks scattered on the floor in our hallway and she was convinced it was a result of the glue drying up. I never let on my part.

How To Make Me Love You

Knock knock

I opened the front door.

"Yes, can I help you?" I asked the man standing on my front porch, after first peeking out the window and determining he a) wasn't carrying a stack of Bible pamphlets, or b) looked like some sort of crazed killer.

"Yes, I'd like to talk to your dad, please. Is he at home?" the man politely asked.

"Nooooooo, my Dad doesn't live here."

"Oh, your mother then."

"I'm sorry, but this is my house. Is there something I can help you with?"

"I'm a bit confused. I'm looking for Robert Lastname."

"Robert Lastname is my husband."

"Wow, you don't look old enough to be married."

"I love you." Okay I really didn't say that, but I thought it. I would like to shackle him to my front porch so that every time I exit my house he'd be there to tell me how young I look. And I bet if I withheld food awhile I could get him to tell me I was pretty too. I wondered if I should let him know I had seven children , but then I decided why spoil the illusion.

And I do NOT think the man had vision problems as was suggested by my son, who not only does not want to see his next birthday but is currently being written out of my will.

At Least He Didn't Mention Beans

There is a certain subset of people who, upon finding out that you homeschool, feel the need to ask the children what they have been learning or quiz them on their math facts, historical dates, or some trivial tidbit of information. It is always done under the guise of making conversation, but I hate the way it puts the children on the spot. Especially when the children are faced with people who like to try and trick them by asking, "What is the thirteenth planet from the sun?" or "In what season do seagulls hibernate?"

I want to tell people to knock it off. It isn't funny and frankly my children are too polite and respectful to call you an ass like you deserve, at least out loud. But I know they must be thinking it, they are being raised by me after all. Sometimes I will turn the question around, and in the same tone of false cheer ask, "So, what have you been doing that is worthy of note lately?"

The question-- what are you learning?-- always makes me cringe. Invariably one or more of the children will answer, "nothing." Though I know that children who go to school answer this way too, for some reason it makes me feel like a failure, like I haven't stimulated my children enough or provided them with interesting topics which they could discuss at length. And although I know that isn't true, and that I don't need to prove anything to anyone, I can't help but feel silently judged by how my children respond.

So when I overheard the librarian ask my children what they had been learning, I felt that familiar tightening in my throat. My 10 yr old replied that I had just taught them a great poem. The librarian was intrigued, and I'll admit I was too. Emerson? a Shakespearean couplet? Shel Silverstein? I hoped it wasn't going to be Dr. Seuss, because that would be a bit embarrassing hearing one of them recite The Foot Book and call it poetry.

I edged closer to the doorway of the children's room so I could hear every word. My heart was swelling with pride; the constricting in my throat beginning to ease.

He began, "Excuse me for being rude, It was not me it was my food. It got so lonesome down below it just came up to say, hello."

And when the ground didn't open up and swallow me whole, I gave thanks that he didn't precede the poem with a hearty belch like at home. I have to look for the positive wherever I can find it some days.

Suddenly "nothing" seemed like a perfectly acceptable, if not preferable, answer.

The New Look

The problem with being a perfectionist is that nothing is ever perfect enough. When I began changing my design I had no idea I was going to do something so involved. I was just going to change the background color, which I thought was a big deal. Perfectionism is a curse really, because I am never happy with anything I do.

It all sort of just evolved over the course of the past few days. There was one moment when I got up and left my computer on the couch. I returned to the room to find the baby banging on the keyboard. I thought I was going to die, right then and there.

But honestly, I had no idea how the whole html thing worked. I went around and looked at the code to other people's blogs and then googled the tags to see what they meant. Then I read some online html tutorials, which pretty much caused my eyes to bleed.

I really liked how Kristin, at 1902 Victorian, has photos of her old house across the top of her blog and I wanted something similar. That was the header I had yesterday with five individual photos. But that was taking too long to load. I knew there was a way to import (ooooo, I feel like I am using an SAT word) the pictures to Paint Shop Pro, but I didn't know how. So yeah, googled that. And I wanted some sort of border.

Blah, blah, blah, interesting to no one, not even me, I ended up with this design. There are still some things I want to change, but can't figure out how to do them. But they will have to wait as I can't ignore my house and kids for another day. And apples... by God I have apples to eat and bake into delicious treats. And leaves to rake. And hayrides to go on, And pumpkins to carve... and... and... well I simply have to force myself to step away from the computer.

I had a real entry I was going to post this morning, but blogger ate it. I can't help but feel like it is getting back at me.

Aiming For The Target

Aiming For The Target
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

The thing about having a paid Flickr account is that one (uh, that would be me) feels the need to over share photographs that one (uh, me again) has taken. It is the internet equivalent of inviting people over for a slideshow, complete with witty (or maybe not) commentary.

I have put up a bunch more photographs. So grab your popcorn and if you hurry you might actually get a seat on my couch before the babies toss them into a pile on the floor.

The Joy Of Homeschooling

One gallon jug of white vinegar: $2.49




Box of baking soda: $.55




Single serving bottle of soda: $1.09

Step Four
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

Getting to watch the excitement of your children as they direct their own learning : PRICELESS



Getting hit in the head by the cork as it flies out of the soda bottle: occupational hazard

Quote of Yesterday and Today

said by me at 11:30 pm last night

"Holy crap, I have no idea what I am doing."


said by me at 7:00 am this morning

"Holy crap, I have no idea what I am doing."



Bear with me, people. Why I decided to change my blog design late last night, when I am completely clueless about this sort of thing, I have no idea. Other than it is further evidence of my mental instability.

Also, I won't be around most of the day to work on it as I have to bring the children to their weekly science class. It is held at a big camp and after the science class we get to use the camp facilities. This week, it's archery. Yes, archery.

I just hope my children don't shoot each other.
Because it is safe to say that I won't be paying attention. My mind is preoccupied my things much greater than the safety of my children, namely, my blog design.

It's Very Very Fragile

We have always used the real names for body parts at our house. Up until a couple of years ago we only had to talk about the penis, with the vagina only get a couple of mentions here and there. Mostly it was in the context of, "No, I do not have penis. I have a vagina. And no I don't wish I had a penis, thankyouverymuch."

Then I had a daughter and suddenly we were not all penis all the time at our house. But vagina is not an easy word for toddlers to say. So my daughter calls it, "her china". And because I think it is so freaking cute I encourage it and use the term myself. Also when she talks to her grandmother on the phone and drones on and on about her china, my china, and do you like your china, it requires no embarrassed explanations from me.

So imagine how funny she thought it was when we were out shopping this past weekend and as we passed through the housewares section I told her not to touch the fragile china that was on display.

She stopped and looked around, "Where china?"

When I pointed to all the sets of dishes she laughed and laughed, repeatedly saying, "No, that not china! That's a plate. That's a bowl!" She thought it was the funniest joke ever.

I could only imagine she was looking around thinking that there would be vaginas somewhere on display. I was momentarily thankful that I didn't bring her to the China buffet. Not sure how I would explain that one... "Food, from china!"

Life Before Google?

How would I have known how to make this?

Just Another Use For Duct Tape
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

What is it, you ask?

This is a device to fix the television screen by degaussing the mask.

Huh? Why on earth do you need this?

This is what you need when your child, the one I have mentioned before, decides to stick magnets on your television screen and ruins the picture quality, making all the colors off. This means Jeff is wearing a green shirt, Murray is all stripy, and this is simply NOT ACCEPTABLE to a two year old, who feels the need to voice her displeasure loudly and continuously until your ears bleed.

The thing that keeps this child alive is that you just know that someone somewhere on the internet has written about the exact same thing.

And when you search and find people selling expensive products to fix this problem you know that someone somewhere must have figured out an alternate solution.

And that someone somewhere will have written a web page about it.

And the google gods pull through for you once again and you bow down before them in thanks.

Then instead of strangling said child, you can mentally compose a blog entry about it. Because if you can fix it, then it is humorous.

And it's educational. "Gather 'round my children here is your science lesson for the week. Don't say I never let you do cool science experiments."

Fixing the television
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

Still confused?

Read this if you are interested in a full technical explanation.

Thoughts On A Rainy Day

My pregnancy with my daughter was no different than it had been with any of the boys. There was no real discernible difference. That is something people loved to ask me during all my pregnancies following the first one.

"Do you feel different?" or "Are you carrying differently?"

The one and only thing that was different was I had an overwhelming craving for all things citrus. I could not drink enough orange juice, lemonade, and other citrusy foods. I would call Rob up at work and demand that he stop at the store and buy me orange juice. And leave work soon, I don't care what you are doing. It's for the baby! The baby needs vitamin C. With all the boy pregnancies I craved tomatoes and put ketchup on everything. I would make french fries just to have a socially acceptable tool for getting the ketchup into my mouth.

But with my daughter, I must have consumed a half gallon of orange juice alone per day.

Oh, and the lemonade at McDonald's was just too strong of a craving for me to pass up. One day I drove through the drive through bought a lemonade, drank it on the way out of the driveway and promptly pulled back in and bought another one. I'm sure the drive through girl thought I was nuts, but I was pregnant, dammit, I needed that lemonade.

Then there was the time that I was a a party thrown by the wife of Rob's boss. She had a few drinks too many and added to her already boisterous personality was a bad combination. She paraded me around the party commenting on my "fat ass".

I know that in her own twisted way she was trying to make me feel good, to be encouraging, to make me feel hopeful that I could be carrying a fetus of the female variety, but dear lord the last thing you want when you are 6 months pregnant and dressed up for a party and thinking you are looking pretty nice, despite the weight of an extra person you are carrying around, is for someone to point out the spread of your backside.

She kept saying over and over and over again, 'I just *know* you are having a girl. I mean look at how big your ass is!' And then she would pull someone over and ask them what they thought. If they said boy she would turn me around and point to my "fat ass".

Finally I told her that if I had a girl I would forgive her, but if it were a boy I'd would have no choice but to hunt her down and hurt her, possibly kill her, for the humiliation she was forcing me to endure. I'm sure that in the back of Rob's co-workers minds I am forever the wife with the fat ass.

And so since I had a girl I have forgiven her, sort of.

It also helps that her husband got a different job and I don't have to see her ever again.

On This Day

1) Today I turned the heat on for the first time this season. And for the first time in a week I wasn't cold and cranky. Just cranky, because I can fully visualize dollars flying out of the heating vents.

2) I ordered Christmas presents for my kids today. Waffle makers for everyone! Okay not really, but I am buying everyone monogramed towels. I can sense the excitement with that present already. I am really trying hard to get away from buying so many toys, because we already own most of the inventory at We Be Toys.

3) Rob sent me an email about his annual Christmas party, but the baby will still be nursing. Maybe next year. And maybe by next year I'll be able to find a babysitter.

4) I think I may be mildewing from all the rain.

The Budding Artist

Drawing
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

My daughter's latest drawing, with description.

She Is So Deprived

Typing On Her Computer
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

and has no "real" toys to play with.

Everyday she opens the cabinet and pulls out her computer. She types away on it, giving a running commentary, like, "I'm buying new shoes!"

Yesterday she was "typing", the baby was entertaining himself by emptying out a box of wipes, and my 4 yr old was fashioning himself some handcuffs out of scotch tape (which made me laugh more than a good mother probably should when he couldn't get free of the tape), and I thought why do I bother buying toys at all?

Overheard At My House On Friday Night

Me: You do remember that I have a dentist appointment tomorrow, right?

Him: Yeah, I remember.

Me: I'm not bringing the baby, or any of the kids for that matter, with me.

Him: What do you mean you aren't bringing the baby with you?

Me: The last time I brought him he cried the entire appointment and wanted nothing to do with the toys in the playroom. It was stressful. Well, more stressful than a dental appointment usually is.

Him: Well, I hope you are going to come right home then.


All, righty then. A few minutes go by, which is incidentally how I can tell that my medication is working because I didn't immediately jump up and snap his head off. When I resume talking he doesn't even realize that we are still having the same conversation.

Me: Aren't you going away for three days this week?

Him: Yes, I am.

Me: And isn't it for fun? Not business, correct?

Him: Yes, you know that.

Me: And aren't you traveling again this month on business?

Him: Yes, I'll be in [big southwestern city] for a week.

Me: And after that?

Him: Uh, I have a conference in [really big city that never sleeps].

Me: And after that?

Him: Uh, I'm going to [big southeastern city where I have zero desire to ever visit] next month... what are you getting at here?

Me: Nothing honey. Just clarifying a few things.

Him: Oh.

Me: Didn't you just get back from somewhere?

Him: California?

Me: and?

Him: Wisconsin?

Me: and?

Him: ummm, why all these questions?

Me: You have been away at least twenty times in the past year and I just find it interesting that I can't even go to the dentist, the DENTIST for crying out loud, without having to immediately scurry home like a cockroach that is suddenly caught in the blinding glare of a fluorescent light.

Him: (laughing because he realizes exactly what I am getting at) I'm sorry. You are right. Why don't you just take the rest of the day and do whatever you want to do.

Me: I don't have anything I want to do. Just making my point.

Him: Are you sure that new medication of yours is working?

Me: I'm laughing and you haven't had anything thrown at you, have you?



(And I should add that when I came home, not only was the house clean, he had done some home repair work, cooked a real lunch, and had a pot of sauce cooking on the stove, AND had written up a schedule delegating baby watching duties to the kids which they did happily. I think I need to get a real job and leave him home with the kids and house every day.)

Post Partum Depression, Nine Months Later

My latest post is up over a dotmoms. It's a bit different than what I usually write for this blog and I was a bit hesitant to share it. However when I read about the pregnancy of the girlfriend of the celebrity-who-shall-not-be-named, I decided I had to share.

While I don't wish post partum depression on anyone, it would only seem fitting for her to get it and then castrate him in his sleep when he tells her to take vitamins.

Uploaded pictures from our kayaking adventure

Six year old in his kayak
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

The kids had such a great time. There aren't too many pictures since I was concerned with the whole drowning aspect of it. But I managed not to freak out by counting to seven over and over and over again.

Quote of the Day

said by me to my 10 yr old son as I pop his CD of choice out of the CD player in the van.

"I just can't listen to Radiohead this early in the morning. My nerves can't take it."

Presented as evidence that I am turning into an old fart.

And We'll Have Fun, Fun, Fun 'Til The Mommy Goes Crazy

Do you ever have one of those times when you wish you could just leave your body and float far far away?

I had just that experience today. Why you might ask?

I had to bring my van to the auto repair shop to have the annual emissions testing done. Today was the last day that I could have it done for $20, after today it would be $20 plus a $20 late fine. The fine would have been worth the price of my sanity.

If someone offered me $20 to sit in a crowded waiting room for an hour and a half with my wild children- why oh why did I feed them pop tarts in the van on the way over there- I would have laughed in their face, yet that is essentially what I did. yes I realize I could have gone and had my van inspected any time during the sixty previous days and avoided such a scene, but what can I say, other than, "shut-up. Just shut-up.".

The highlights of my day included:

A 4 yr old who kept (loudly) calling the man in waiting room with a long black coat, black hat, black pants, black shoes, and black shirt, Indiana Jones and questioning where he kept his whip. But it did give my 9 yr old the idea for a Halloween costume, and now I only have to sew him a faux leather jacket. Good Lord, I only agreed to sew it to make them stop talking about Indiana Jones in front of this poor man. (Personally I thought he looked more like Neo, from the Matrix, but the kids have not seen that movie.)

A 4 yr old who kept (loudly) commenting on the appearance of everyone in the waiting room, like gee that lady has big legs, doesn't she?

A 4 yr old and an 8 yr old who got into a knock down drag out brawl over a chair, though there were numerous other vacant chairs to sit on, especially since all the people were all scared off by the 4 yr olds running commentary... or maybe the 8 yr olds hacking cough and his refusal to cover his mouth.

A 6 yr old who questioned whether wearing earrings made a boy look more like a girl, in front of all the men who work in the car shop and all wear earrings.

A 6 yr old who licked, yes licked, the glass front door of this auto repair shop.

A 2 yr old who kept spinning the magazine rack so fast that all the magazines kept flying off of it across the room.

A baby who made a stinky stinky room clearing poop with the knowledge that I had left the diaper bag in the van which was at that point in the air and inaccessible. Okay, maybe the baby didn't really know I had left the clean diapers in the van, but he should have. He is nine months old afterall, hardly a newborn anymore.

A husband who calls me in the midst of this "fun" and says, just give it an hour or two and you'll find the humor in it.

I'm still waiting.

Pictures From the Weekend

Stained glass window
Originally uploaded by the big yellow house.

It's so GREEN!

Answers to the burning questions of my weekend

Answers:

1) "A vat of lemon/lime gatorade, a basket of granny Smith apples, a recycling bin filled with 1L bottles of Sprite, a circa 1982 sweatshirt with the neckline cut off emblazoned with the words RELAX, and the newly painted family room in my house"

2) "A ton of wood pellets to be used as alternative heating source, 1 car with a driver's side window made of plastic sheeting and duct tape, and 2 babies wearing nothing but soggy diapers hanging down to their knees."


3) "An old upholstered couch."


4) "You're not dressing as a serial killer. Get the batteries out of your nostrils. What did you think would happen when you threw a rock at the window of the car?"


5) "3, 526 and 3, 525"


6) "The baby's head"


7) "Wah, Wah, Wah....gurgle gurgle, gasp, gasp..... silence... WAH WAH WAH"


8) "Number of reasons chris will learn to love the green paint and has taken to calling it soft apple green instead of neon dayglo green"




Questions:
1) "What are places Kermit the Frog could hide camouflaged in plain view?"

2) "What are things located in front of the house in order to keep with the crack house feel"

3) "What is the only thing missing from the front of the house to fully give it that ghettoized feel."

4) "What are things Chris actually said this weekend"

5) "What is the number of square feet painted by chris this weekend versus the number of square feet she actually intended to paint."

6) "What is the location of the extra square foot of paint?"

7) "What are the sounds that a nine month old makes when having green paint scrubbed off his head."

8) "What is 3,525"

What's In A Name

My latest post is up over at dotmoms in which I write about my unresolved feelings I still have over the traditional "changing your name when you get married".

For the record, let me just say that I have no issues with women who change their names or women who chose not to. I don't think that changing your name implies a deeper commitment to your relationship, nor do I feel it compromises feminist ideals. What I wrote is strictly from a personal perspective.

I like tradition, I do. And that is why we have turkey every Thanksgiving.