Summertime, Swimmer time!

The big kids are finishing up week one of two weeks of swim lessons. It's been (glup!) two years since they had swim lessons but, in that time, I had worked with them in the pool and we had gone swimming a lot. I knew they had advanced from the levels they had been in so I took a look at the level descriptions and guessed. I got it right and both are doing really well!

Camille can swim a decent freestyle and breathe to the side! She gets her left arm up slightly higher than her right but that's normal. I saw her do an elementary backstroke the other day and she can float easily. Joseph can also swim the freestyle, dive and play all sorts of pool games. They have gotten so confident in the water and it's nice to go to the pool without having to overly worry about or help every.single.child of mine!

Speaking of confident, George will wear a lifejacket and swim with a noodle! Two years ago, the child would barely get in the water! He saw his best buddy swim with a life jacket and had to try it. He loves it and would swim into the deep end with Adam. He paddles after the other two and tries to play with them. He even holds onto the wall and scoots to the deep end. So proud!

Cole is a little attention hog in the pool. I have to swim him around, catch him, give him my undying attention or he gets mad. I can't help or play with any of the others. He likes to swim but we're learning to share Mommy in the pool.

I can't believe I am typing this but I am getting a little tired of the pool. I take the big kids to swim lessons every day and the we normally head right to our neighborhood pool. The kids swim for a few hours and then one of two things happen: a) the little boys power nap for an hour and are recharged and ready to roll at 8 pm or b) no one is tired and are still going at nine! Either way, I am exhausted at night but the kids are still going strong! I'm hoping now that the summer solstice has come and gone, they might go to bed earlier. Maybe.

They have one more week of swim lessons and then maybe I'll put the little boys in lessons. They have been begging and begging to go. I am a little hesitant because VBS was such and epic disaster for George... and Cole will probably just get up and jump into the deep end without warning. We'll see. Still so proud of the progress all four have made, though!

The Great Zucchini Strike

My mother is an avid gardener. We moved with the military, but if we had a back yard, she had a garden. She even managed to get roses to grow in the volcanic dirt soil of Hawaii, which is no easy feat.

When I was little, she had a large backyard garden that my grandmother helped her tend. One summer they thought, "Well, if one zucchini plant is great, then SIX is even better!" They planted six, and the bounty of zucchini was endless. Between the two of them, they found every possible use for the vegetable- soups, bread, in main dishes, in place of potatoes in meals, grilled, baked, stewed. By the end of the summer, my father was pushing away his plate saying, "I just can't do this anymore!" I think it was a good ten years before he ate it again.

When Adam suggested planting some in our backyard vegetable garden, I said, "Fine. But only plant two and only if you agree to eat it.." He agreed- and planted more than two.

At our peak last summer, we were getting over six zucchini's a DAY and Adam would asked, "We're having zucchini and what for dinner?" At every meal, even if it came out of a cereal box, the children would question if there was zuc. in it. It was shredding six cups a day and freezing it in the deep freezer. But the end of the summer, the Herd was on strike.

Like, hard-core strike.

The kids would NOT, EVER, eat another zuc. Not in a muffin, in a casserole, in a pan. Not with chicken, not with ham. No zucchini pizza would cross their lips and they banned me from pinning anymore zuc recipes on Pinterest. Peas? Yes, please! Corn? Bring it on! Carrots? Yum! Zuc? NEVER EVER EVER.

Not that I blame then. I was sick of it myself.

Everyone cheered when the last plant died for the season. I got rid of the frozen stuff by offering (so kind! and generous!) to make homemade muffins for the teachers on "snack day." We saved none for ourselves because we are all so stinking sick of it.

But, of course, it's baaaaaack. We have AT LEAST two more plants in the backyard. They have blossoms. I'm considering paying the children $5 to "accidently" weed the plants out of the garden. Unless... anyone want some zucchini?

Quick Take Friday: The 'Hood Edition

1.

On NPN today there's an article on how to tell if you are a natural parent. You need to go over and read it, if only for the super cute picture of me and George. Hard to believe that snuggly, sweet bald baby is my giant 4 and a half year old! Even harder to believe? It was taken when I was in labor with Cole!

 

2.

I have some of the sweetest neighbors. Two days ago, I posted on FB that my washer was broken and I was thinking of taking five kids to the Laundromat to do a load. Within a few minutes, I had several neighbors saying I could drop the wash off at their house and they would run it for me! How sweet is that?

 

3.

 

Adam fixed the washer that night.

 

4.

I'm a little concerned our neighbors might be getting the correct impression of us. The other day, they were watching as I was hanging laundry on the line. Then we were tie-dying t-shirts outside. Cole is normally out there in just a bathing suit and we have a vegetable garden with tomatoes, strawberries (eaten by the rabbits), herbs, broccoli (success!) and zucchini (oh, please, not again!) I suspect they would complain to the HOA about the hippies except my husband is ON the HOA and in charge of the pool. He hands out the pool keys so people want to keep him happy. As soon as he steps down, there might be some complaints about the barefoot wife, half-naked children and organic garden.

 

5.

I think they should be thankful I am chicken-phobic.

 

6.

The other day, I said to George, "As soon as we get home from dropping Cole at school, we'll need to clean the house."

"Who coming over?"

"Who's coming over? No one. We just need to clean."

"Who coming over?"

 

I guess I only clean when we have company over!

 

7.

Speaking of cleaning, I am currently maintaining a level that will just keep us off "Hoarders." I'm still trying to figure out how the house gets so dirty yet my children play  Minecraft and hangout at the pool all day!

Did I do enough?

Let nothing disturb you,
Let nothing frighten you,
All things are passing away:
God never changes.
Patience obtains all things
Whoever has God lacks nothing;
God alone suffices.

-- St. Teresa of Avila

 

 

Every once in awhile, my head becomes a dangerous place to be. I question myself, I beat myself up, I wonder what I did wrong, and so on.

 

I'm sure part of it is just me and my nature. I worry and I like to try and fix things, especially things I cannot fix. I like to do it MYSELF and placing my trust in someone else, even Jesus, is a huge grumpy issue for me. I like to be in control.

 

It's easy for me to pray, "Jesus I trust in you!" when I can live with any results of the prayer. But when trusting in Jesus might result in something I don't like, don't care for or think I can't live with, my prayer becomes, "Jesus, I trust in you... but let's do this my way, okay?"

 

Lately, I've been fretting that I didn't DO enough. I didn't say the Novena properly, so surely St. Theresa won't intercede for me. I didn't run hard enough and offer up my suffering (cramps, sore legs) enough so surely it doesn't "count" and God won't hear my prayers. I'm praying to the wrong saint, the wrong person, not asking Jesus enough. I didn't sacrifice, suffer enough, ask enough people to pray. Or perhaps I asked too many people, made a pest of myself and God was all, "Take a chill pill, dear."

 

See, though, those are the dangerous thoughts. God hears my prayers, all of them, whether they are in proper form or simply, "Heeellllp." While certain saints do have their special causes, they all hear my prayers and are happy to pray with me. Even a small thing done with great love is enough for God. He doesn't put a measure on the amount of suffering and offering up I do. And, frankly, it all pales in comparison to the whole "being nailed to a cross and dying for all humanity" deal.

 

I did do enough, and I won't stop. I will keep praying and trying to remind myself that I DO trust in Jesus, no matter what the outcome is. My way isn't always the right way and, with time, I will see why it is the perfect plan even if it seems to be so very wrong right now.

 

Jesus, I trust in You... no disclaimers.

I survived the Dirty Duo!

And it was six miles! SIX! I've only run two on my own! To be fair, I didn't realize it was six miles when I signed up, but...

My friend and I had to leave our houses at six forty-five am. We had a very last minute car problem that nearly put us out of the running, literally. We were supposed to take her car since mine was going to be in the shop getting the AC (finally! after months!) fixed. Then the day before her car broke down and her husband needed their van to take her kids to baseball. I finally convinced Adam to let me drive his car and to borrow his parents van.

Now, my husband loooves his car. I swear he loooves it more than me most days. I've known the man over 19 years and it has only been in the past year that he has allowed me to drive one of his cars. I guess he figures that if he is going to have a car that does not fit all of us, I'd better use it when I need an extra car!

Anyway, he was telling me things like, "triple park horizontally" and "park far away so no one can park near you." I sent a text to my sister asking her to find a picture of a car similar to Adam's parked in the mud. I wanted her to send it to him to harass him... but, apparently, pictures like that do not exist!

The race itself was... long. It was made longer by the fact that we all ran in the wrong direction for half a mile! I have no stamina, so I was pooped at the beginning. I didn't pace myself well because I was trying to keep up with my friend, who is a much stronger runner than I am. She quickly outpaced me and I ran/walked the whole way.

At about every mile, there were obstacles and most were pretty easy, like walking on a log. I say easy... but when your legs are so sore and tired from running, everything is hard! I tired, though, and the only ones I didn't finish were the ones that required upper body strength. When the going got really tough, I thought of my sister and Miss Who and kept on running/walking.

AND I WASN'T LAST! My friend was wearing the time piece but I think I did six miles in about a hour and half.

And we went through the mud! We were totally disgusting and covered in mud. My parents and Adam snapped pictures, my kids watched the mud pit and I inhaled a hot dog. (I think it was a hot dog... I'm not sure I tasted it.)

Will I do another one? Yes but I will make sure it is a 5k first! The Dirty Duo? Maybe... if I keep running and can work up to six miles. Right now, it's more about time. I have 45 to 60 minutes to run in the mornings so I just go with what I have, no matter the distance. (I think I could go pretty far if I pushed myself but that's another post.)

Oh, and in case you are wondering... I took a nice long bath when I got home and napped!

QTF:Melly, I ain't so very drunk!

1. Just kidding. I'm not drunk. Not that you would know it by the half empty bottle of two buck chuck and the IM conversation with my cousin. But hey! Before you judge, I'm writing this at 9 pm Thursday night. It's after five pm!
2. No, I am not drunk. But, damn, I should be. I haven't been this upset since George was a baby. Aside from the hideous VBS week, Cole tried to drown himself at the pool. He was wanting me to go to the far side of the pool to make him a "bed" on the lawn chair. (He wanted the towel down on the chair to lay out like the teenagers!) I said no since I was talking and he walked off. Two seconds later I turned around and said, "Where's Cole?"
   Now, I have no idea why I turned around when I did. Prompting from the Holy Spirit? Mother's instinct? No clue, but I didn't see him and started running to the pool. I just knew where to go and I saw him under the water, struggling to get to the top. I can still see the white beach towel out behind him, one little hand still holding it. I grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the water. He started coughing and gagging and I said things like, "Cough it up, Bear. You are such a brave boy to try and swim to the top. Did you see fish in the pool?" He didn't cry but he freaked me and my friend out.
3. Believe it or not, I didn't cry which is why my bursting into tears in front of one of our parish employees is so notable. Yes,  I did. I just got sick and tired of people literally being in my face and aggressive about how I was helping George. I got tired of people chirping, "I know how you feel! My son was attached too!" and me wanting to scream, "IT'S MORE THAN THAT!" I finally told her that I come to Mass not for the people or the fellowship but for the Eucharist. No more, no less. May that be a wake up call to the parish and how people like my son are viewed.
4. Did I also mention that they literally took my son from my arms, crying, as I was protesting? Hello, trigger much?
5. After I wrote my post on Wends, I took George to speech with the SLP in the school district. He has seen her nearly every day for two years. As they walked back to the room to work, I could hear him scream, "Mommy, don't leave me!" When they came out, she told me it would be best to pull him from VBS because we were both seeing anxiety behaviors we hadn't seen in years. YEARS. Thankfully, she doesn't think we need to see a doctor for it. But MY BABY, Anxiety is hard enough for adults and this is my BABY.
   (Anxiety in new situation is somewhat normal for Apraxic kids. Yay!)
6. My goal this week is to not punch the church employee who took George from my arms. How's that for a good goal?
7. Camille loves VBS but Joseph is still luke-warm about it. I am wondering if I will send him next year. That year, he will be in the junior high group (!!!!) so it might interest him more. If not, I think I will look into Totus Tuus for him. Or call it a wash and figure he's just not a VBS type kid.

Music from the Wii

I'm sitting here listening to music from the Wii. It was supposed to be another one of my days off, but I kept George home from VBS. He has speech today and while I normally would have kept him out, he has missed plenty of speech due to the chicken pox. He needs to go. Yes, I would have picked him up early but... it's not worth the drama or struggle for an hour of "me" time.

So, he's home playing Wii, I'm drinking coffee and blogging and ignoring the housework. Sounds par for the course, no?

Tuesday was a pretty rotten day. I came home from VBS emotionally exhausted and napped on the couch for a bit. George had his private speech and did great, but when the SLP asked him is he enjoyed VBS he said, "No." When asked if he liked snack, he said, "I no like snack."

Well.  Sigh.

I asked her what we should do: keep him in or pull him out? She really couldn't give me an answer because there really isn't one. Yes, he should probably experience VBS. And, in my stubbornness, I want MY PARISH to be able to accommodate him. I want him to go to a CATHOLIC VBS. I wonder if we are doing him good by saying, "You need to experience this and try." Maybe he will grow up and say, "I'm glad my parents made me do things typical kids did because it was good for me and helped me learn how to handle everyday situations."

Or will be grow up and say, "My parents forced me to sit through something that was physically painful for me. They didn't accept that I couldn't do it and didn't listen to me when I said I didn't want to go."

Sigh. Can't win for trying, eh?

For the Glory

A few weeks ago I met up with a long time friend for coffee. We chatted about children and somehow got on the "six degrees of separation" about people we knew. A relative of hers is a special education and she said she often prayed to God for a special needs child because she knows how to be an advocate for children, isn't afraid to make waves and has lots of connections in the special needs community.

I nodded and sipped my coffee. I said nothing. Inside, I was thinking, "Are you frikkin nuts?"

(Now.  Let's digress here. You're going to read this and may think, "Laura is telling me to abort my unborn child because he or she has been given an diagnosis and will have a life with disability! The baby will suffer and I will suffer and it isn't worth it!" Let's clarify: HELL NO I AM NOT SAYING THAT.)

This friend- and she is a friend- is a devote Catholic. No matter what a doctor told her about her potential unborn kid, she would chose life. I completely agree with her. Life is always worth living, no matter the suffering (perceived or real), no matter the struggle,  no matter the long term out come. As a mother of a special needs child, I will say it loudly HIS LIFE IS WORTH IT.

But. It is not EASY.

My friend has what I mourned Monday- blissfully normal kids. They are polite, well mannered and well behaved. They make excellent grades and are good at sports and music. Do I believe for one minute her life is picture perfect? No. But she has many things I cannot brag about because they do not exist in my life.

And I think, "What mother wants to see her child struggle?" I ache when I see my son struggle to enjoy something kids his age love, like loud music, dancing, a play area, certain foods. (What four year old does not eat pizza? MINE.) Think about it- even the Blessed Virgin wished she could help Her Son as He struggled with the cross.

But.

The Blessed Virgin knew what Jesus was going through was for the good of all humanity. She ached with the real and intense ache of a mother seeing her child suffer and die. No more, no less, as that is the most intense ache a  mother can know. Yet . . . she knew. She trusted. As much as it hurt her to see Jesus suffer and die, she knew it was for the glory of God.

If I could take this from my son, would I? Yes. I offered. I prayed. I screamed, "GIVE IT ME, MAKE ME SUFFER, NOT HIM!" Believe me, I prayed that I would be left with the lasting scars of his early birth, not him. I am a mother and my basic, most burning desire, is to "make it better." That's why I cannot fathom wishing a child of mine would have a special need. Would I love my children no matter their abilities or needs? I do! Would I wish it on them? No. Because no mother WISHES to see her child suffer, to struggle, to overcome.

Yet like the Blessed Virgin (and let's be clear I am SO FAR from the BVM it's not even funny but we are both mother's and, in that,we get each other) I love my child. Deeply. I also love Him enough to trust that all the challenges my child faces are for His Glory. I don't think all this is due to random chance. I think there is a reason behind it all, reason why it is him, a reason why it is our family. Do I pretend to know why? Nope. I just have to trust, to accept, to be the best mother I can be. I have to walk with him on his path and give him the tools to be the most wonderful person he can be and let him know (as I must all my children) that their weaknesses will show God's greatest glory.

(post inspired by these verses:  The Gospel according to JOHN 9 As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3 Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.")

A Post By A Different Name

This post was originally going to be titled, "Peace! And! Quiet!" In it, I was going to tell you how I dropped one kid off at summer school, three at VBS and had two and a half HOURS to myself. I was going to tell you how I went fabric shopping to recover two kitchen chairs- alone! JoAnn's! Alone! Amazing! Then I was going to tell you about returning an item at the store- Alone!- before coming home and sipping coffee in peace! and! quiet! before picking the kids up.

Yeah, it didn't happen.

I got the kids all hyped up for VBS. I told George it was just like Jesus Preschool (CCD for preschoolers) but super more fun! He asked if his preschool teacher would be there. I said no but he would make lots! of! new! friends! And look how HAPPY Cami and Joe are! (This is partly a lie. Cami was excited. Joe wasn't.)

I dropped Cole off at summer school and drove the older kids to VBS. When we were there, I caught one of the coordinators/leaders looking at George funny. Granted, he looks like he had some horrible plague. I assured her it was just chicken pox but he had scabbed over and was no longer contagious.

Fellow Catholic: Chicken pox! Poor baby! You know they have a vaccine to prevent that now, right?
Me: Yes, but  my three year old got it from someone who was vaccinated and shed the virus. [Note: this is our best working guess.] He's allergic to vaccines. Oh, and you know that the vaccine contains fetal cell lines, right? (big smile)

At this point, the fecal matter hit the fan. I turned to walk George in the gym and he said, "No, I don't like this!" holding onto the door as if he life depended on it. I began mentally kicking myself. Crowds. New faces. Lots and lots of people and loud music, bright colors and dancing. Hello, visual and audtiory overload. Why did I think he could handle this? I should have brought Penguin. I should have brought his headphones. They are just volunteers; they can't handle him.

I picked him up, patted him on the back and said, "I know it's alot of people but I would like you to try." I handed him off to his poor teenage guides and said to call me if it got to be too much. I said the same thing to the coordinator and then got the heck out of there while listening to him scream, "I hate you! I NO LIKE THIS!"

All the way to JoAnn's I berated myself for leaving him and not warning the coordinators. I realized we keep his life very confined- school where people understand his needs, TKD has small classes, we avoid crowded places and resturants when we can, etc. I think he's doing well but only in those tightly controlled situations, and when I throw him in with the normal kids, it's like feeding him to the wolves. I think he's not severe but maybe he is. Maybe he needs Care and Worship. But maybe he's what my SpEd professor calls a "cracker," a kid who has special needs but not severe ones and will fall between the cracks.

My head was a very confusing and unhappy place to be. 

I got to the store and not five minutes later, I got a call from VBS. George was not calming down, didn't want to participate, etc. I chatted with them a bit, made my purchase and went to get him. By the time I was there, he had gone back to class. We watched him come down the hall with his group (I hid) and he was grouchy but participating. I told them I don't care if he sits and sulks as long as he doesn't bother the kids. I reminded them not to take the "I hate you and I don't like this" stuff personally. And then I got to explain CAS and SPD to a group of six other women who were standing around judging me.

Okay, that's a bit harsh. But, honestly, I'm a bit touchy right now and that's what it felt like. I feel like if George's disability was visible people would be more understanding. I mean, if he couldn't walk they would understand his need for modifications. But everything is hidden in his brain. It's seems like it is sooo hard for people to understand this. He's not neurotypical and when he acts out, it seems like people think it is a result of bad parenting, not his inability to process his environment or speak. He IS learning how to manage this world; I DO get him help. 

So... he was doing better so I left him at VBS, agreeing to pick him up early so he didn't have to sit through the loud closing ceremony. When I got back after picking Cole up, I saw George run into the gym, very happy. We agreed to try again tomorrow and he didn't seem opposed to the idea.

(Joseph, however, is another story. Ahem.)

I'm glad I encouraged George to try VBS. I wish I had brought his tools to make it easier on him and I really, really, really wish I felt like our parish was more encouraging and understanding of the invisible disabilities.

(Note parish does NOT equal the One Holy Roman Catholic Church. The Church loves and values my child and his life. The fallible human beings at our parish are, um, fallible.  I suppose it is my job to show them God's glory in my son. I don't mind this- most of the time.)

Quick Takes Friday: Poxy, Cold, Non-traveling Summer

1. Like I said Wednesday, George has the chicken pox. My poor boy has it bad, bad, bad and he is not happy, happy, happy. (Yes, we watch Duck Dynasty!) For the first two days, I think he was pretty proud of his pox. Then yesterday he walked up to me and said, "Mommy, I hate my chicken poxs." He was, and still is, complaining that his spots hurt. Not itch- and he hasn't been scratching- but hurt. All he wanted to do was snuggle, which is not really like him. I spent most of the afternoon and evening on the couch with him, watching everything Disney has to offer.
2. Last night, he spent the night with us in bed. That sounds great until you realize that I had taken myself to HIS bed (thanking God that we had bought the boys new big-boy beds!) and Adam was not-sleeping with him. I think there was a 3 am McDonald's run for ice cream. This was a brilliant idea on my husband's part... except the ice cream machine was broken. They got a smoothie instead and it helped his mouth enough that he could eat breakfast this morning. That, and a hefty dose of Tylenol and Benadryl, per doctor's orders.
3. As you can imagine, my older kids are going stir cray-cray. I dumped Camille off with a friend's yesterday but none of Joseph's friends could play. He moped around the house until Adam got home and I took both Joe and Cami out for a run. That was not the most relaxing run I have ever had. It was like running with squirrels who have ADD and never stop talking! My kids have better running endurance and lung power than I thought!
4. On the agenda today is tye-dying shirts for the DirtyDuo next week. Our team is the "Dirty Smelly Hippie Mamas." I think tye-dying is fitting, no?
5. Speaking of my race, Adam is gone until right before the race. I guess where he is going is better than where they want to send him: Paris! Yes, he is going to Paris- alone. I am not terribly happy about this. Actually, that is a big understatement. We are not talking about this.
6. My niece, Miss Who, still needs some mega-prayers for her lungs.
7. Actually, so does another mother who had PPROM at 15 weeks! Jen has links over at Conversion Diary, so check it out!

The Walden Family and the Terrible,Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Friday

I actually wrote my Quick Takes Friday notes around 10 am Friday Morning. Normally I do them the night before and schedule them for that morning. I was behind that week, so I just popped them out that am. Plus, the boys had been up early and it was the first day of summer break, so I thought we all deserved a morning to just chill.

After hearing, "But what will we doooooo today?" I said to the kids, "I have errands to run. We need to go to the vacuum store, Hobby Lobby and the grocery store. Let's do our errands and get lunch on the way out." By the time I had showered and dressed, the kids had cleaned up the living room and were ready to rock and roll. Cole even used the potty and was refusing a diaper! Yay!

After driving through two different fast food joints (see how nice I was! I don't normally do that) we went and got a new vacuum tube. Errand one? Check! Painless!

Then we went to Hobby Lobby. By this time, Cole had sucked down half my tea, so I said, "Let's all use the potty! Isn't the potty TOTALLY FUN? AM I RIGHT?" Camille got the hint and was all, "The potty is AWESOME! I could use the potty ALL DAY!" Joseph was like, "No." Guess who won herself a pony?

We roamed Hobby Lobby with a VERY crabby 3 year old who was pouting because I made him hold hands in the parking lot. After finding the potty, he sat and didn't go. Then he sat on the dirty bathroom floor and pouted. Potty? FAIL.

We got what we needed and spent time staring at a fake vintage train that cost 40 dollars. I refused to buy said train and hauled the kids to the front, where some one's weather alert app kept going off. The kids freaked out and then were side tracked by the stuffed animals. I got to say "No" fifty million times.

By this time, Joseph reminded me that he needs summer jammies. He won't wear an old shirt and boxers to bed, he wants jammies. Fine. We detour to TCP, where my kids acted as birth control for the teenage population.

And Cole peed on the floor.

I steered him to the bathroom where he threw a fit because I held his hand. I changed him then lined up to buy jammies and a t-shirt. At this point, my kids went bat-shit insane and I wondered if leaving them there was an option.

I didn't. Instead, I hauled them out to the car and read them the riot act about how they SHOULD NOT climb clothing racks or play in dressing rooms. Instead of going to the grocery store, we were going home and they could STARVE for dinner since we had NO FOOD. They were going to sit on the couch and do NOTHING for one hour.

They did, but when that one hour was up the whinnnnnning began. Of course, George doesn't have CP and they could have friends over and go to the poooool and the pool isn't cooooold. I finally told them they could go to the pool when Daddy go home, fully intending to pass them off to their father and run to the store alone.

Except as soon as I was ready to leave, the basement leaked. Again. And while it still was NOT sewage, it was right in the area where my dolls are.

(Yes, I am a grown woman with a doll collection. A NICE doll collection with family dolls that I love.)

I was not happy.

I might have thrown a fit and locked myself in my room to cool down.

See, I had been asking my husband for four years to get shelves to get the dolls up off the ground. He has refused because basements in the Midwest do not flood.

Hog.wash.

We spent several hours cleaning and organizing the basement AGAIN. The good news is that it will be clean and purdy come large trash pick up day. The bad news... my doll boxes (most of which were in giant cardboard boxes) got damp and I am worried about mold and mildew. I opened every single boxes, checked for leaks and moved the doll boxes to a shelf that had been holding out grown and to-grow-into clothes.

On Saturday, I was still in a bad mood but a little calmed down. Adam took the children out for the morning so I could write and when he came home, he said, "Guess what I got you at Home Depot?!"

"Shelves!"

"No! Roses for the backyard! I know you wanted something under the bay window, so I though rose bushes would look nice!"

Husband? FAIL. I gave him The Look and asked, "What is cheaper? A divorce laywer or new shelves?" He wisely picked shelves and bought home a massive unit on Sunday. About half the basement is in our dining room/craft room because I can't and won't take stuff down there until the shelving unit is up. We haven't had time to do that because...

George has chicken pox. 

Menu Plan Monday: Week of June 3rd

Been awhile since I did a Menu Plan Monday so here it goes! With Summer Break upon us, I have four mouths to feed all day long. When the older two are home, they seem to think it is a free-for-all snack fest. I beg to differ and I get seriously tired of picking up popsicle wrappers everywhere! They can and do make their own snacks but they lack the ability to clean up after themselves without copious amounts of nagging... so I'm laying the smack down on "we all want different snacks at different times and each snack requires 30 minutes of prep and clean up EACH!"

(They are also getting schooled on chores and clean up this summer. I know, so mean yeah?)

Anyway, this weeks menu plan for the insanely cold summer break:

Breakfast: cereal, PB toast or oatmeal and vats of coffee.

Morning snack: peanut butter crackers that Adam got a really good deal on at Wal-Mart

Lunch:
M:ramen noodles and fruit
T: grilled cheese, celery sticks, carrots
W: Pasta (plain with cheese), veggies, fruit
Th: Out to eat since we have dr appointments and speech all around lunchtime
Fri: Peanut butter and honey and fruit

Afternoon snack: crackers, some form of protein (cheese or PB) and fruit

Dinner:
M: Spicy Avocado Chicken Enchiladas. I plan to make them not-spicy since we are weenies.
T: potato bar (cheese, leftover BBQ, etc)
W: Mexican Casserole
Th: Spaghetti
F: Grilled hamburger wraps (grilled on the George Forman grill, not outside)
Sides are always fresh fruits and veggies.
Weekend: Adam grills or we have leftovers

Drinks: always water, sometimes milk, unsweet iced tea, sparkling water, sometimes juice.