In The News

You may think we Americans don't have problems, compared to the rest of the world, but I can prove you wrong. Just check out this article in the Washington Post. Look at how we are suffering.

You didn't click, did you? Okay, I'll tell you - it's titled "Cheat Sheets?"

Fuzzy Industry Standards Leave Consumers Lost In the Thread Counts

"It's just gotten ridiculous," said one local shopper, Susan Van Hemel of Fairfax. "It's become so hard to figure out what to buy. And sheets now are so expensive, you can make a costly mistake."

Honey, I can help you. Go to Target. Pick up a queen-size set of sheets for 30 bucks. It's that easy. Really. If the extra money you would have spent is burning a hole in your pocket, send it to me. Or maybe send it to an organization that is helping cyclone victims in Myanmar, or earthquake victims in China.

And if your new sheets don't seem comfy enough, get more tired before you go to bed, okay?

Sheesh - talk about having too many choices and too much money to spend on them.


And, then, in the "how much can we show off that children haven't changed our lives?" category, we have this handy-dandy article on how to take your infant backpacking. Real backcountry backpacking. Because that's what I like to do: strap an infant on my chest, put a 30-pound pack on my back, and head for the woods.

You know, the only reason I would be heading for the woods would be to get away from the crying baby, not to take him with me.

Look at the picture that accompanies this article (I can't upload it - aaargh!) and tell me: just what is this woman trying to prove? Maybe it's a first-baby thing - you know, you're anxious to prove that babies haven't changed your life one bit; you're still a normal person even though you change poopy diapers and catch spit-up food in your hands.

Me, I've got nothing to prove. And my inordinate fondness for indoor plumbing would prevent my ever even entertaining the idea of doing this. What? Life isn't challenging enough with a baby at home, you need to take him on the trail? Good grief.

That's all tonight, folks. I'd like to get to bed before midnight for once. And we've got 9 tons of stone dust to move tomorrow. We try to save this sort of work for when the temperature is above 90 degrees - that way we can sweat out all our toxins while we shovel.

Multi-tasking is the way to go.

[I can't fix the orange mess up there. I tried.]

The Eternal Miscellany of a Cluttered Mind

Larry and I did the teamwork thing this evening in order to get the Sudafed into Susie's mouth before bedtime. He held down her legs and arms; at the same time, I immobilized her head with one forearm while sticking the medicine syringe (lovingly) into her screaming mouth. We're quite good at this maneuver, having had much practice over the years. Which made me realize: soon I won't need this skill (and others like it) at all. In a few years there will be no screaming toddlers or babies to force into hard-to-buckle car seats (damn those 5-point harnesses!) or strollers. There will be no incredibly messy diapers to clean up, and we won't need syringes to administer medicine. In fact, all the skills that I have so painstakingly developed over the past 16 or so years will soon be completely irrelevant.

In other words, my iceberg is melting. And it's a frightening feeling. The only useful know-how I'll be left with will be some rudimentary knitting skills. That and a few bucks will get me a tall latte.

Speaking of knitting, I made the mistake on Wednesday of (brightly) announcing to my Stitch 'n' Bitch group that there would be a lunar eclipse that night! Silence. Everyone looked at me for a second, and then they continued talking to each other as if I had done nothing more than emit an embarrassingly loud belch. Apparently, knitters don't care much (as a group) about the moon. After all, there are no sheep there.

I got confused, you see; in homeschooling circles, a lunar eclipse is the conversational centerpiece for days surrounding the actual event. Everyone keeps their kids up late to watch, and if yours don't get to see it, they feel left out. You would think that an eclipse had never happened before, the way we carry on. It's almost pathetic.

But the eclipse was really cool.

Perusing the news online, I stumbled across Midlife Suicide Rises, Puzzling Researchers. Might I suggest that said researchers must be happy young people in their 20's and 30's, people who, I daresay, don't have teenagers yet? Because I, for one, am not puzzled by this phenomenon in the least. Just let one of those researchers get up morning after morning to look in a mirror that utterly betrays her and then go downstairs to face an adolescent who is only too happy to let her know what a loser she is, what with having been dumb enough to grow up and do boring things like work and pay bills and boss her kids around. Let this young chippy of a researcher do that, and then ask her if she is still puzzled. That is, if she isn't crying too hard to talk.

And, no, that above paragraph is not a cry for help. I plan to live long enough to see my children suffer at the hands of their teenagers. In fact, I smile just thinking about it.

Fall?

You know, anytime someone wants to turn off the summer weather around here and let a few fall breezes blow our way, I'm fine with that. Really.

The only way I can tell we're in September is that the apple tree formerly-known-as-ours is bearing its usual biennial (or is it biannual) overabundance. While we miss being able to use all the apples, it is fun to watch someone else (as in our hapless buyer) deal with all the rotting apples and wasps in the front yard. The 90-degree weather isn't helping the smell much, either. He is looking a tad beleaguered, I must say. Laughing at him takes our minds off the fact that our backyard (now that we've demolished the fence) is starting to make the city dump look good. That shouldn't improve next week when we begin tearing down the deck. Why do things always have to get worse before they get better? Beats me.

Anna still hates me (in case you were wondering). Susie loves me, though, because I haven't bothered weaning her yet. And Larry makes sure to tell me he still loves me; because if I leave him, he's stuck with all these kids. He's nobody's fool.

Apple Trees and Centipedes

Well, Larry has finally returned from his San Diego sojourn. He's at the office now, but we did get to see him for a full 24 hours or so. At one point yesterday, Rachel asked him, "Why aren't you at work?" Kids say the darndest things.

He did manage to injure himself while - ahem - sailing last weekend. Nothing major, his rib just feels "poke-y" at certain times, like when he breathes or moves or lies on his side. He could visit the doctor, I suppose; but he doesn't seem to want to do that. Maybe because I suggested it. Or perhaps he's making a political statement by demonstrating his solidarity with the millions of working Americans who don't have health insurance. Most likely, he's just being a typical guy and believes he can fix anything with Motrin and a roll of duct tape. He doesn't need no stinking X-ray.

Anyway, he is feeling well enough to tackle the apple tree. Not to cut it down, mind you. Sure it's getting lower each week, but his solution is to cut off each limb as it becomes low enough for him to bump his head on. Selective pruning, I believe it's called. He won't cut down the whole thing because I once foolishly suggested that he do so (yes, I'm detecting a pattern here). That was a few years back when the mailman bumped his head on the big branch that essentially bisects our front porch. But Larry liked the tree and left it, and the mailman left us and took another route in a nearby city where - I can only suppose - they have ordinances against killer apple trees. So it goes, but any day now I expect to look out our front door and see the UPS guy knocked out cold on our porch.

It hasn't rained here. Have I mentioned that? 3 hurricanes, and no rain. Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to....whatever. The centipedes all seem to be coming inside in search of water. One morning last week we woke up and were finding them everywhere. Well, David woke up first; his shrieking woke the rest of us. I found him in the hallway babbling about centipedes in the powder room and centipedes in the bathroom. I calmed him down somewhat and sent him off to get dressed and I wandered into the bathroom myself to perform my morning ablutions. Unfortunately, David neglected to mention that the centipede surprised him in the middle of peeing. Definitely not a good start to my day.

Susie did me a favor by sleeping 12 straight hours last night - she definitely has earned Most Favored Baby status. I would have slept too, if I weren't busy coughing. Theo and I seem to have picked up a nasty chest cold. With both of us down for the count, and Anna having yet another "bad day" (meaning "everything's horrible, nothing is fun, and you're mean!"), it will be a miracle if anyone gets fed here today. We had apple crisp for breakfast (left over from yesterday), but our enthusiasm for that particular dish seems to have waned markedly over the past couple of weeks. Just too much of a good thing, I suppose. I've run out of neighbors to foist it off on, too. They don't seem to be answering their doors anymore. It's a good thing that tree only bears biennially.

Susie is attempting to sneak in an evening nap here, which I must interrupt. I'd like to be well-rested tomorrow, in case it turns out to be a pleasant fall day for a change. Meaning temperatures below 80 and humidity less than, say, 90 percent. Wouldn't that be nice?

Fall?!? - Sept 2005

The weather here has been hot and humid or just plain humid since July. So
much for a cool, crisp September. I have been whining all week. We still
have the air conditioning on. When the humidity eases up a teeny bit, we
all venture outside only to be attacked by swarms of mosquitoes. I think
the humidity makes them cranky, too.

Susie is incredible. I just plopped her down on the family-room rug so that
I could check my e-mail, and she has decided to suck her fingers and fall
asleep. What's not to love?

Larry is still hiding, I mean working, in San Diego. Tough life. Last
night on the phone he was trying to decide what to do with his free weekend
there. Tactless. A few days ago (again, on the phone) he mentioned that he
was offered an opportunity to go to Korea for 2 weeks for a military
exercise at the end of October. The only problem that he saw with that plan
was that he would miss Halloween. I'm beginning to think he doesn't like
me.

I signed up the 4 oldest kids for Tae Kwan Do at the Y. Logistically, it's
great - 4 children, 1 activity. I found I can take the 2 youngest to the
nursery during the TKD class so that I can even get some exercise for myself
on the machines. Unfortunately, I think my oldest will never forgive me for
making him learn to count in Korean and jump rope at the ripe old age of 14.
Just one more thing for him to discuss with his therapist when he's older, I
guess. Anna is really taking to it, however; Larry told her he might
actually let her out of the house on her own once she got her black belt, so
she is highly motivated.

Our apple tree is bearing its usual abundant biennial (biannual?) harvest.
There are apples everywhere. We have only narrowly missed being bonked on
the head by falling fruit any number of times (shades of Newton, I know).
Actually, I think the squirrels are throwing them at us. I don't know what
their problem is - they're eating half the crop. In a desperate attempt to
salvage what we can for our own consumption, Theo constructed a rather
ingenious apple-picker out of a stick, a bathtoy bucket, a wire coat hanger,
and (of course) duct tape. He has managed to harvest enough apples for us
to inflict our famous apple crisp on several of our long-suffering
neighbors. I doubt it makes up for their having to step over rotting,
smashed apples and dodge wasps all month. The only creatures enjoying the
windfalls are the butterflies - they look to be getting drunk on the
fermented apple juice. Party animals, I suppose.

Have I whined about the weather yet? How about the mosquitoes? My missing
husband? Well, I guess I've covered everything then.

Finally Fall

I don't think I have ever been this glad to turn the calendar page to September. August was a slow month. There are only so many popsicles one can eat (and feed to the kids - I do share sometimes) before the novelty wears off. Although we did have a bit of excitement with this last box - the wrappers were blank, so we didn't know what flavor we were getting until we had unwrapped each one. Quite suspenseful.

Rachel (3) is still squeezing Susie (3 months) a lot, but Susie doesn't seem to mind. Susie doesn't seem to mind anything, actually. Not even the fact that she is slowly going bald. Or that she has very fat knees. She is very pleasant about everything. And she never, ever complains about her food. Unlike everyone else in this house. David refuses all meat and eggs and assiduously inspects the remainder of his meal for bugs. (Let's not talk about the morning Theo slipped a plastic spider into David's oatmeal.) Brian eats only meat (with an occasional side of potatoes) and spends mealtimes grossing out Anna. Twelve-year-old girls have very low gross-out thresholds, I must say. Rachel yells for whatever she can't have. And everyone participates in baby-carrot-bashing - "This one tastes/smells/looks funny." So Larry and I are thinking of instituting a new mealtime rule. It would be called, "Shut up and eat." No stimulating dinnertime conversations which would keep our teenagers abstinent and drug-free. No lively discussion of current events and world affairs. Just shut up and eat. Please.

We are headed to the beach for a couple of days (we decided to save our vacation time until gas went over $3 a gallon). Both Rachel and Brian have forgotten what the ocean looks like, so we figured it is time to refresh their memories. Larry plans to leave at 7 AM. This should be interesting.

2 Weeks Later - July 2005

It's been a while, I know. But it's rather hard to type with one hand, and I'm actually expected to prepare dinners for my own family now, and Larry had the nerve to return to work. So...I'm a little busy. I must be putting up a good front of having my ducks in a row (ducklings, actually), as Larry is still planning to accompany Theo on a Boy Scout backpacking trip the first week of August. He calls it good exercise - I call it running away from home.

Rachel seems to have bonded with the baby somewhat. David attempted to pat Susie a week or so ago while Rachel was crooning over her in her infant seat; she (Rachel) smacked David's hand away and shouted, "Don't touch! This is Rachel's baby!" There is no font or punctuation with which I might adequately convey the peremptory way in which she said this. We don't call her the Empress for nothing, you know.

Brian and Rachel are still spending most of their spare time perfecting their whines. I try to keep them busy with playdough and Duplos and books and trips to the pool, but there always seem to be extra hours in the day (the long, hot, humid summer day) for them to work at driving me nuts. We've even included Brian in our summer-long UNO tournament by having him play open-handed (i.e., cards face up) so we can help him. That worked fine until this morning when, in the middle of a game, he said, perturbedly, "Hey! Everyone can see mine!" It bothers me he didn't figure that out until now. I had him targeted for medical school (not at all squeamish and fairly bright, I thought); but now I'm not so sure. Anyway, he wants to be a butcher. We don't know why. We don't want to know why.

David has been spending the summer being alternately ignored and ordered around. We vote him to be the kid most likely to run away from home. He has gotten very good at doing laundry and making oatmeal. I call it summer boot camp. Theo has kept himself occupied with his work at the vegetable farm, his experiments in the kitchen (he can whip up an excellent pesto now), and all the schoolwork I've decided to torture him with this summer. He is going on a practice hike this weekend, in preparation for the weeklong trip in August. What, the boys need to practice peeing in the woods? I hardly think so. This is more likely another gambit by the troop dads to escape from their wives for the weekend. And no, Larry isn't getting away with it this time. Anna (who has absolutely no desire to pee in the woods, thank goodness) has been a big help, when not at band camp or at a neighbor's house being paid to do what she does for free around here (her mother's helper business is thriving - she'll need to incorporate soon). Of course, these halcyon days may be ending, as she is less than a month away from turning twelve, and we can already feel those storm winds blowing closer, ever closer. Be afraid....be very afraid....

The Beginning, June 2005

Well! It's been a month since Susie was born, so things are fairly back to normal here. I mean, if normal is no time to make dinner and laundry baskets full of clean clothes everywhere (at least they're clean) and a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old who are whining an awful lot. Let's just call it the new normal, shall we? Anyway, we didn't have enough to do around here; so we decided to take a jaunt to NJ to see my parents last week. We had to convoy, since a 7-passenger minivan simply won't seat 8 (those darn seatbelt laws, wouldn't you know); personally, I really didn't mind riding separately from the above-mentioned whining children. Susie slept three solid hours on the way up - I definitely had the better end of the deal. The way down was another story, but it can actually be rather interesting comparing all the different turnpike reststops on I-95.

Our stay at my parents' house in NJ was bearable; though Larry did seem to develop some sort of nervous tic while we were there. He kept walking around muttering "loony bin...loony bin..." under his breath. Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Matt were all glad to see the children, even the whiny ones (have I mentioned that they're whining a lot lately?); and I was glad to let the kids mess up someone else's house for a change.

Susie is spending her time sleeping, nursing, spitting up, pooping, and hiccuping. She's very good at hiccuping. I'm spending my time carrying Susie, changing Susie, nursing Susie, preventing Rachel's squeezing Susie too hard, ordering the older children around, and pretending to Larry that we're doing just fine - really. 6 children? Piece of cake! No more trouble than 5 - honest! What's a little extra laundry? When he looks doubtful, I remind him that Susie may be the child who visits him and takes care of him after I abandon him to a nursing home in his dotage. It definitely won't be David. He doesn't like us anymore, because we insist he eat his oatmeal in the morning. He claims that there may be bugs in it. I told him that's all right, because it's organic. We insist that he eat breakfast, because he usually passes on dinner - he's a vegetarian, and the dinners are generally of a carnivorous nature. Anna, on the other hand, will only eat oatmeal for breakfast and pouts (no one can pout like a 12-year-old girl - I can feel it on the back of my neck) if we occasionally have cold cereal. I think they are all trying to drive me nuts. And, yes, it's working.