A Bird in the Hand is Worth 4 Shushing Girls in the House

My teenager can catch just about anything. I'm not talking a cold or chicken pox. I'm talking other living creatures. She possesses quick reflexes and can snatch a butterfly out of the air as it flutters by without breaking her constant stream of talking. She's the kid I always send after the dogs when they take off down the road; she sprints after them and can grab them by the collar before they even smell her presence. We were delighted, but not necessarily surprised, when she came into the house with a big smile on her face and whispered, "Look what I caught!"

The poor thing had somehow flown into the garage (under the door that was only open a foot or so from the ground) and trapped itself up against the one window. Allison walked right over and scooped it up. She fully intended to set it free; she just wanted to show off for her younger sisters, so she brought it in.

We didn't want its little bird heart to explode from terror, so we said our hellos quickly and quietly. The twins and I oohed and aahed, petted its tiny head, and then watched it spring from Allison's hand and fly off into the trees.



Dinner last night: oven-baked chicken, brown rice, green beans

Exactly 5 years ago:

Lilacs

Exactly 6 years ago:

Daisy Among the Daisies

Exactly 8 years ago:

So Much to Talk About, So Little to Say

Exactly 9 years ago:

Summer Solstice

Switcheroo

This post started out as a sentimental journey.

My husband and the twins tore down the wooden swingset this past weekend, and I was feeling verklempt about the passage of time and the symbolic ending to my daughters’ childhoods. Mind you, no one was sentimental enough to take a “before" picture, so I had to reach back through the annals of time to find this:



Yep. That’s the old swingset covered in snow. Unfortunately, it was also covered in ants. Carpenter ants. Wood-eating carpenter ants had destroyed the integrity of the top beam holding the swings. It had to come down. Besides, the girls haven’t used their play equipment even once this year; they’re growing up and moving on to other things. They agreed with my husband that our family would benefit more from a roomier backyard in which to run around and play volleyball.



There’s the big empty space where happy memories were once made by frolicking children. Wait a minute. Hold up. Do you see what I see?

Dang nabbit, there’s a dumb moose sabotaging my sentimental memories. Why does it look so mad? I’m not the one ruining the picture, you twig-eating skinny-legged cow. Get out of my shot, you grumpy thing, you!



Oh! Sorry about that. I didn’t realize I was ranting in front of your cute little calf.

Carry on.

Dinner last night: meatloaf (ground beef—not moose!), mashed potatoes and gravy, corn

Exactly 9 years ago:

The Moose are Afoot

I’ve Been Making Guacamole for Decades, and I Still Don’t Know My Way Around an Avocado

It happens so often, they call it avocado hand. You’re holding an avocado in one hand and a sharp knife in the other. Yep. The knife may or may not slice the avocado, but it surely ends up slicing the hand.

In my case, I grabbed a pointed butcher knife to stab the stubborn pit. It wouldn’t come out, so I stabbed it harder. The butcher knife slid to the side of the pit, through the avocado, and deep into the crease of my middle finger where the finger attaches to my hand. I knew immediately that I had done something terrible; this was no nick. After running cold water over the laceration that was pumping? pouring? gushing? blood, I forced myself to turn my trembling hand over to see if the knife had punctured all the way through. Phew, it hadn’t. I grabbed a clean dish towel to press into my bleeding hand and began the fun all-day process of visiting the urgent care clinic . . . and . . .

• getting jabbed with a tetanus shot, because I couldn’t remember when I received my most recent vaccination,
• being sent over to a hand specialist due to the deepness of the cut and its tricky location,
• having my hand x-rayed,
• getting my hand numbed (holy crud, that shot hurt worse than the original stabbing),
• receiving the bad news that the very weird numbness in my finger was most likely due to severed nerves,
• hearing the good news that the tendon wasn’t severed,
• and receiving 3 stitches sutures.
• Oh, and then getting my left hand placed in a soft cast, wrapped snugly so my finger will stay immobilized for two weeks.

Did I mention that my wedding band had to be cut off? Swollen fingers and whatnot.

I will spare you the “before" picture; this is the “week after." Stitches come out in two days.



Dinner last night: french dip sandwich

Exactly 5 years ago:

Terror

Exactly 7 years ago:

Behold! The Power of Cheese . . .

Exactly 9 years ago:

The Nursery BEFORE and AFTER

Ash Wednesday

I was checking an online newspaper that I try to read on a somewhat consistent basis, when I saw a headline about Ash Wednesday. Already? Spring is right around the corner.

I don't have time right now to check my archives, but I think I've written before about my recent discovery of Lent and what it means to me. I've only observed it twice, but this morning as I noted that today begins the 2014 season of Lent, I knew immediately how I want to fast this year.

To keep myself accountable, I'm telling the world . . . I'm fasting from yelling. I've been so stressed out lately—mostly because of work, and believe you me, that's a huge post for another day, when the school year is over and I'm safe from the Vindictors—that I really want (need) to focus my efforts on remaining calm and composed toward my own children, my husband, and myself. I'm not going to go into excruciating detail, but suffice it to say that I have developed a horrible habit of yelling as my first response to any and every situation.

So, I don't know whether "yelling" is on the official list of items from which a Christian can choose to fast, but it's what I'm choosing.

NO YELLING FOR 6 WEEKS!



Dinner last night: shrimp and chicken over pasta

"We're all quite mad . . ."

My eldest daughter turned sixteen years old. SIXTEEN. I'm struggling to figure out the math, because I'm fairly certain she was born only a couple of months ago. I could swear that just last week I was braiding her hair and helping her to pull on her boots. And now she's sixteen?

Many years ago, when I taught high school, I had a student who was one of four girls in her family. Her mother told me how the only birthday she ever "did big" was the sweet sixteen. She made it her life's work to surprise each daughter on her sixteenth birthday with a unique and fitting celebration. For her youngest daughter (my student), she rented a plane to circle over the school campus at lunch waving a huge banner behind it that read, "Happy 16th Birthday, Name of Girl." While the plane flew above, Mom arrived on the ground with an army of costumed helpers carrying huge bouquets of colorful balloons and enormous trays of freshly baked cookies that were distributed to any and all teenagers who desired a treat. We're talking a LOT of cookies, because over a thousand students attended the school. In the middle of it all, stood the princess for the day, enjoying her birthday attention and the gratitude of cookie-munching friends.

That day was obviously memorable, because I wasn't even a part of it, yet I recall it clearly. I had no children of my own at the time, but I filed a mental note to remember to celebrate my future kid's 16th birthday in a big way. Turns out, I had four children. All girls. No woman from my past, whose name I can't remember and whom I only met once or twice, is going to outdo me when it comes to a birthday celebration.

So.

I've been planning my daughter's sixteenth birthday party for, oh, almost a year and a half. It started when we visited Disneyland back in October of 2012. As we were leaving California Adventure, my older daughters were sucked into the Mad T Party. Like rats following the Pied Piper, they were drawn by thumping music to a neon-lit area dedicated to teens for dancing and cavorting and laughing wildly. My husband and I were overwhelmed by the noise and colors, but the girls loved it.

When we got home, I set up a Pinterest board and started collecting ideas for a surprise birthday party. I now had a theme: Mad Hatter tea party. In the next couple of posts, I'll be sharing pictures of how I set up everything, and although a plane was not circling overhead, I must confess my daughter's sixteenth birthday turned out pretty great.



Dinner last night: tea sandwiches, punch, birthday cake

Exactly two years ago:

Snow, Snow, and More Snow

Exactly four years ago:

Saturday with Sterling

Badass Chihuahuas

Can you believe the ferocity? Don't let their precious fleece frocks fool you. These dogs will take off your finger if you get near them.

Just TRY to enter this vehicle. Come on! We dare ya.

The owner probably christened her two little angels something like Tippy and Tia, but you know their secret dog names are Piranha and Miz Psycho.



Dinner last night: manicotti, green beans, garlic toast

Exactly three years ago:

Sing, Choirs of Angels

Exactly five years ago:

How to Dress a Toddler in Four Easy Steps

Remember Those Days?

One of the twins is determined to "do the splits." I remember wanting to do the same thing when I was her age. I would practice by jumping up in the air and slamming down on the floor, hoping the force of my movement would cause my legs to stretch out further. There was no gentle stretching in ballet class for me.

Have I mentioned that I have an appointment on December 17 to see an orthopedic surgeon about the pain in my right hip joint? I'm not even joking. I can barely walk these days. I'm wondering if perhaps my method of achieving the splits via shocking and awing my legs into submission was not the best approach to reaching my goal.



Dinner last night: teriyaki steak, rice, green salad

A Classroom With a View

Back to work. I thoroughly enjoyed my unexpected day off yesterday, but it's time to snap back to reality. I have 11-year-olds to wrangle, parents to call, team teachers to meet with, papers to grade, and graffiti to erase out of books.

No matter how crazy my day might get, though, I can always look out my classroom window for an attitude adjustment.

The sky, it is vast.

The mountains, they're majestic.

The school bus, it rolls on.

Dinner last night: orange chicken, stir fry rice

All I Want for Christmas is 8 Hours of Freedom

As I'm finishing my cup of coffee, savoring what I know will be my last moment of quiet before I go to wake up the kids and begin the morning rush to get ready for school, the phone rings. It's early, and I glance at the clock: 5:59. Could it be? Could this be the day that all my prayers are answered? I pick up the receiver, shout a happy greeting into the mouthpiece, and wait to hear those two heavenly words . . . SNOW DAY.

That's right—SCHOOL'S CANCELLED! A freezing rain has hit our area, and the roads are slicker than, well, you can supply your own imagery.

I don't give a rat's patoot that my own children get the day off; I'm happy that I don't have to go in to work. No teaching of the sixth graders will occur today. I can catch up on grading and planning from the warm comfort of my home. I can finish up the laundry that's been sitting on top of the washer for weeks days. I can pull out the Christmas boxes from the attic and start decorating the house, a task I didn't think I would get to until this weekend. I CAN BLOG!



Dinner last night: leftovers

Exactly five years ago:

Advent Calendar

Volleyball All Day, Every Day

My eldest daughter loves volleyball. And volleyball loves her. This year she is captain of her JV team and stays on the court for the entire game in every match, rotating through both rows. The season is entering its last month, and the varsity coach asked Hayley to swing up and start practicing with varsity (in addition to JV). The coach wants her to start learning the varsity plays and travel with the team to Regionals and State.

Photo courtesy of Duane Hickok

This sounds great, until you realize that my daughter is now practicing THREE HOURS a day. In the next few weeks she will be traveling every weekend all over the state, either with her own team or with the varsity team, to compete in tournaments. This is crazy. Crazy fun, but still. CRAZY.



Dinner last night: tamale pie (hey! I finally cooked something!)

Exactly one year ago:

My Kryptonite

Exactly two years ago:

Oh, Blog, How I've Missed You

Exactly three years ago:

Let Them Eat Cake

Exactly four years ago:

Sunset Through the Trees

Camping Once a Year is Still Camping

We had such fun last year when we rented an RV over Memorial Day weekend that we decided to make it an annual family tradition. Between my husband's work schedule and the kids' various activities, however, it was well after Labor Day before we were able to head to the river. At least we scored an off-season rate for the RV.

We had a blast just sitting around the fire, sometimes hiking around, and pretending we were outdoorsmen. The wildflowers had long faded away, but the autumn foliage was pretty.

My secret hope is that years down the road, the kids won't realize that we only took them overnight camping once a summer—they'll just remember we went camping.



Dinner last night: brown bag lunch (parent/teacher conferences well into the evening)

Exactly one year ago:

October Sunset

Exactly five years ago:

Don't Eat Yellow Snow

This One's For You, Barb

I am not dead. Yet. I sometimes wonder, though, if my students are conspiring to send me to an early grave.

I accepted a position with a local middle school to teach language arts. I naively believed that, hey, I taught at-risk high schoolers in Southern California for years. I'm talking literal gangsters, for crying out loud. Yo! West Side Rivas . . . how bad could a bunch of tiny, innocent sixth graders be? Pretty bad. They are full of energy, sass, and lame jokes. Did I mention energy?

Okay, this picture doesn't make my point. This is my first class of the morning, and they're still a little sleepy. Trust me when I say that by 6th period, the children? They have awakened. Just when I'm ready for my afternoon nap.

I'm too old for this, is what I'm saying. I NEED MY NAP.



Dinner last night: fast food, because I don't make have time to cook any more

Exactly four years ago:

We Park on Driveways . . . And Drive on Parkways

Exactly five years ago:

Say "Cheese!"

Poor Moose

Normally, I don't have a lot of nice things to say about moose. They're big and dumb and don't respect property lines. They are constantly walking through our yard, across our deck, eating our lilac tree, and pooping wherever they like.

But I feel sorry for this guy.

He seems fine in this picture, but if you look closely you can see the gash across his side, which actually is not the worst part (so many moose possess that same kind of scar—probably from scraping against fences and railings as they run through people's yards). You also might notice that he's not placing any weight on his back right leg.

When he started moving, he walked with a horrible lurch. I don't know if he'd broken his leg or dislocated his hip or what, but his laborious movement was the most pitiful sight. He won't be long for this world with a lame leg, poor thing.

If I would I have been thinking, I would have switched my cell phone camera over to video so you could see how bad his walking was. Actually, that's not true. I don't think I would have posted video. Too sad.

Just between you, me, and the lamppost . . . this guy is welcome to nibble on the lilac tree any time he wants.



Dinner last night: tater tot casserole (I know, I KNOW . . . but my husband cooked dinner, so I'm not going to say another word)

Exactly two years ago:

Don't Worry, Kids. Mama's Keeping Her Day Job

Exactly three years ago:

Baby Fever

Beauty Sleep

My daughter recently celebrated her birthday and received a gift package of Hello Kitty items, which included lip gloss, fingernail polish, and a sleeping mask.

A girl just can't sleep without her purple blankie and her SLEEPING MASK.

Dinner last night: barbecue chicken, rice, green salad

Exactly four years ago:

A Bogey Isn't Something You Wipe From Your Nose

Exactly five years ago:

Could It Be??!!

Tidal Pools

A couple of weeks ago, the tide went out the lowest that I can remember ever seeing. We jumped into our rubber boots and tromped out to the water's edge to check it out.

 I'm not sure what I expect to see when the mysterious blanket of ocean water is pulled back—reefs? mermaid cities?—but there's only sand.

The kids were amazed at all the razor clam necks poking up from their hiding places in the sand. The girls discovered quickly that no matter how fast they dug with their hands, they couldn't uncover an entire clam. (You really need a shovel and the right technique to dig clams, which we weren't there to do.)

After a good long hike, we finally made it out to some tidal pools where the girls found starfish.

Lupine was more interested in barking at the seaweed; she did not trust the suspicious kelp lying all over the beach. Good dog.



Dinner last night: teriyaki chicken, french fries

Exactly two years ago:

Is It Legal to Marry a Hardwood Floor?

Exactly three years ago:

Wiped Out

You Lookin' at Me?

The amount of moose running through our neighborhood this year is kur-rayyyyy-zeee. Scratch that. They're not running anywhere. They are ambling. Strolling. Downright mosey-ing. Here's a skinny-legged twig-eater hanging out at our road's stop sign, with her yearling hiding down in the ditch behind her. I literally rolled down my window, held up my cell phone, and shouted, "Say cheese, you freakazoid!"

She wasn't amused.

Dinner last night: grilled chicken and gnocchi, green salad

Exactly four years ago:

Friday's Five: Michelle

Exactly five years ago:

Alaskan Mommy Blogs

Class of 2013

My twin daughters graduated from kindergarten. Their school did it up big, with caps and gowns and diplomas . . . an actual ceremony!

Too bad they didn't select a valedictorian, because my kid really likes talking into the microphone. Due to her mumbling lisp (or is it a lisping mumble?), you can't understand a word she utters—but if you could make out what she was saying, I'm sure you'd agree with my objective opinion that she is super smart and very interesting.

B is For Blah Blah Blah

Here's her sister waiting nervously to receive her diploma. The girl behind her looks less excited.

Accept with the left, shake with the right . . .

One of the twins loved going to school every day. The other complained each morning that she wanted to stay home. I'll let you guess which one is my Pollyanna.






In all seriousness, I was a weepy mess. These sweet girls are my babies. AND THEY JUST GRADUATED FROM KINDERGARTEN.



Dinner last night: spaghetti with meat sauce, garlic toast

Exactly one year ago:

Time Keeps On Slippin'

Exactly three years ago:

Just When I Thought I Was Out, They Pull Me Back In

Exactly four years ago:

Summer Evening

Exactly five years ago:

My Daughter, the Intimidator

Fish or Cut Bait

I vaguely recall ranting about bloggers who drop out of sight without any explanation. How dare they disappear from the internet with no warning! I wish I could explain my own absence with a nice juicy tale of intrigue, but the boring truth is that I've been 1) busy and 2) uninspired.

And 3) exhausted.

I feel rather depressed/resentful/bitter that Google Reader is shutting down, because I worked so hard to build a RSS readership (really, Kim? You call your mother, husband, and three kindly strangers a "readership"?) I should probably get cracking and research a replacement RSS . . . and then try to convince anyone who swings by to take the time to re-subscribe to my blog. It might help if I posted more than once a month.

I hereby pledge to start writing on a regular basis . . . to reconnect with bloggy friends . . . to take beautiful pictures of ugly moose. And to lose weight, speak sweetly to my children, and water my hanging flowers.

This is the year that my flowers shall survive throughout the entire summer!

Dinner last night: sub sandwiches, potato salad, baked beans, fruit salad

Exactly three years ago:

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Exactly five years ago:

Birthday Gift

My Babies are Growing Up

My twin daughters celebrated their birthday on Friday.

Since they still had to attend kindergarten, we baked and frosted cupcakes to share with the rest of the class. The girls wore their favorite dresses with special HAPPY BIRTHDAY ribbons.

That evening, their ballet class performed in the spring recital.

 Needless to say, I bawled my eyes out.




Dinner last night: barbecue chicken, potato salad, watermelon

Exactly four years ago:

Stopping to Smell the Roses

Exactly five years ago:

Sharp, Pointy Things Are Our Friends

Spring Break Staycation

This week is Spring Break, so all four girls are home and driving me crazy enjoying family time with their mother.

We're playing lots of board games and video games. We're baking batches of peanut butter cookies and chocolate chip cookies. We're making puppets from paper bags and reading lots of stories.

The sadists at my daughter's high school have scheduled soccer practice at 6:00 a.m. That's six IN THE MORNING. Over Spring Break. Fortunately, my husband drops her off, so I don't have to roll out of bed until 7:00 in the morning. OVER SPRING BREAK.

I'm trying to balance the "boring" stuff, like household chores, with a few outings here and there. The twins visited the hair salon for a trim, which provided an exciting adventure for them. I'm not joking—they really, truly find it great fun to sit in the big chair and watch the lady cut their hair. The older girls spent an afternoon at the new Oz movie.

Oh, we mustn't forget my trip to the vet. Our cat, Tie-Dye, had worms. GROSS. The cat was infested by tape worms from all the mice and birds she hunts. GROSS. The vet assured me that they are not transferrable to humans. Still. DOUBLE GROSS. Tie-Dye has been banished to the garage to sleep in the suitcase that's sitting on the top shelf.

The cat has been medicated and the worms should be gone. Unfortunately, the mental trauma I have incurred shall stay with me forever.



Dinner last night: scallops and chicken over rice

Exactly one year ago:

So Much for Spring Break

Exactly two years ago:

Thinking of Mom