Summertime Help

The whining and bickering and complaints of "I'm bored" that are now filling homes around the nation is akin to a summertime plague, like polio - only no one has developed a vaccine for it. Forget expensive day camps and pricey excursions to the movies. Instead, I offer you the following suggestions to survive the season:

Cheap Summer Activities For Kids

1. Inexpensive toys - my 3 youngest spent over an hour yesterday watching foam capsules in a bowl of water expand into animal shapes. I found it in the dollar aisle in Target. (Granted, my kids can be easily amused - but even I was surprised by this one.)
2. Water gun fights - you can buy decent SuperSoakers for 5 dollars each at Target or KMart, which toys will provide your kids with at least an hour of outdoor fun per use (just make sure to lock the door behind them so they can't sneak back inside too soon). Then they spend another half hour fighting over who puts the hose away.  Bonus!
3. Blanket tents and pillow fights - strip all the kids' beds and pile the comforters and pillows neatly on the floor of one of the bedrooms. Tell them not to mess it up (this step is important - it renders the pile irresistible). Leave. Knit for half an hour until someone bonks their head on the side of the dresser.
4. Food - McDonald's has one-dollar sundaes. Why not?
5. Walks - Yeah, it's hot, but it wears them out. By the time you get home from the trek, they lie around the living room, too tired to fight. Remember hydration.
6. Science experiments - Have each kid use a natural mosquito repellent on the right arm and DEET on the left arm. Send them outside for half an hour (again, lock door). When they come in, have them count the bites on each arm. Discuss your results.
7. Remember, if you don't wear them out, they will wear you out. If all else fails, keep the kids busy doing any chores you can think of, until they run away and hide. As always, the best defense is a good offense.

Hot!

I'm posting a discussion question about teens and dress over at MidCenturyModernMoms today. Anyone with anything useful to say on the subject is urged to comment over there. Not that this topic is a thorn in my side, or anything...

Okay, this is my favorite editorial cartoon of the week. It sums up Hillary's non-concession speech better than I ever could. I haven't gotten to listen to the real concession speech yet. But I know how it ends.

It's in the 90's here for the next few days, with humidity over 90% and frequent dangerous thunderstorms threatening life and limb. We all know what that means, don't we? It means it is time for Larry to undertake extremely exhausting outdoor work, work that should not be attempted in this type of weather by mere middle-aged mortals, susceptible as we are to heatstroke and back injury.

So Larry is digging up our 400 square-foot backyard in order to construct a flagstone patio complete with cobblestone edging. That translates into 9 tons of stone dust and 1 ton of cobblestones. All needing to be trucked in by wheelbarrow from the parking lot out front.

At least I won't be tempted to tease him about his lack of a regular exercise routine for a while.

Of course, right after Larry began excavating, we were inundated by weather wet enough to make me consider googling "blueprints ark". The precipitation turned our half-dug yard into a muddy swimming pool which is apparently irresistible to various children belonging to me and to my neighbor. She wasn't too happy the day she had to wade into our mud pit to drag her 5-year-old twin boys out by their arms. I expect to see a For Sale sign in front of their house any day now.

You know, it just occurred to me that no one seems to last very long next door to us.

In an attempt to escape the heat and humidity (and the angry neighbors whose property values we are doing our best to destroy), I took my best friend to the mall yesterday to help her pick out maternity clothes. (We brought our teen daughters with us, for which favor they owe us undying love and adulation.) They wandered around while my friend and I spent an inordinate amount of time in Motherhood, attempting to find maternity clothing suitable for a woman who is not under 25 and stick-figure thin.

Is there any way to let clothing manufacturers know that there are expectant mothers who would like to have shirts that do not accentuate the rolls of fat down our sides? Is that too much to ask? This horrible trend of looking sexy and svelte during pregnancy started when I was pregnant with Susie over 3 years ago, and it shows no signs of abating. I remember weeping because I couldn't find a simple pair of elastic waist shorts with a belly panel (at that point, the maternity fashionistas had decided that I would be more comfortable in shorts that did not cover my belly at all) and an attractive, flowing shirt that would cover up (rather than show off) my middle-aged pregnant body.

So. We finally staggered out of there with 3 acceptable outfits (I do love spending other people's money), a bathing suit (another note to manufacturers: pregnant women need support in the bust area, fellas), and a couple of nursing bras (one more thing? If a woman is wearing a D or larger cup, anything less than 3 rows of hooks in the back of her bra is just a joke. Got that?). I had walked in there a teeny bit jealous of my pregnant friend; I left thanking my lucky stars that I didn't have to go through the humiliation of trying on every single piece of clothing in the store to find something that looked appropriate.

Since the clothing ordeal wasn't enough for me, I came home and decided it was a great day (hot! sunny! weekend!) for the kids and I to take a 5-gallon cooler of lemonade to our local bike trail and charge 50 cents a cup for some refreshment. Did I mention it was hot? And sunny? So hot and sunny, in fact, that there was hardly any business. The kids whiled away the time drinking up their potential profit, while I tried to knit on a sock (bamboo needles and humidity don't mix well) and worried about how many cups of lemonade Susie could hold before she would need the potty. I'm surprised one of the few people biking by didn't call the police and accuse me of child endangerment. It was that hot.

But the kids stuck it out, because they are too young and innocent to realize when their mother is being abusive. And they netted about 17 dollars, which made them feel like Rockefellers. So I guess risking death-by-broiling was worth it.

Have I mentioned it's hot?

The Seasons, They Go 'Round and 'Round

First pool visit of 2008 today! If my kids ever express doubt that I love them and would do anything for them, I will point out that - against my better judgment - I don a swimsuit and venture out in public for their sakes each and every summer. Yes, I am willing to undergo public humiliation just so that they can have some good childhood memories. Our pool, by the way, is super-fantastic - the baby pool is a splash pool that goes all the way to 3 feet deep, so all the non-swimmers are happy; there's a sandpit for the little ones to dig in when they are sick of the water; and there is lots of shade and trees. I love our pool! I just hate the public humiliation part.

That said, sitting there today reminded me how much time has gone by since I first became a mother (16 and a half years, but who's counting?). Obviously, this pool is a magnet for the younger-kids crowd; and "younger kids" usually means younger (read, less jaded) mothers. All I could think as I sat there eavesdropping on their conversations was "Did I used to sound like that?"

Language Development in Mothers

Young and sweet mothers: "Would you like the lemon ice or the strawberry ice, sweetie?"
Old and tired mothers: "If you're going to fuss about getting lemon again, I'll eat that Italian ice myself."

Young and sweet: "Use your walking feet!"
Old and tired: "Stop running or the lifeguard will kick you out for the rest of the summer."

Young and sweet: "Tell that boy you don't want to share your shovel."
Old and tired: "Stop crying over a one-dollar toy, for heaven's sake, or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Young and sweet: "Use your words!"
Old and tired: "Please, for the love of God, stop talking!"
Young and sweet: "Do you want me to play with you in the pool?"
Old and tired: "Did they fill this thing with ice cubes this morning? Go play - I have a magazine to read."

Young and sweet: "I'm glad I wore my bikini - it's a great tanning day."

Old and tired: "God bless the person who invented the super-spandex tankini with the skirted bottom. Once I get that leg-vein surgery, I'll be all set."


Enjoy! It all goes by too fast!

Toys R Us

Another 90-degree day (yes, I talk about the weather, but I don't do anything about it). We took a trip to Target (again) so Rachel and Brian could spend the birthday money that was burning a hole in their pockets. And if I had realized how many hours of enjoyment they would get out of a couple of trashy toys, I would have paid for them myself. We came straight home and the 3 youngest left me alone for a blessed 2 hours while they played with their new acquisitions. Let's see....twenty dollars for 2 hours - maybe a little more expensive than a babysitter, but we might get a couple hours more use out of the toys, if I'm lucky. Oh, and I had to shell out 5 dollars of my own to buy Susie a Barbie doll so she wouldn't get jealous. It came clothed in a bikini, but Susie likes her to hang out au naturel. With her little plastic sunglasses on. Rachel's Barbie is a little more dignified, sporting an attractive evening gown (complete with tiara) that isn't even slutty. Just for the record, Brian didn't get a Barbie doll. He bought some little Lego thing that I think is a firetruck with lots of teeny-tiny accessories. He is deliriously happy. In case anyone has been wondering exactly how much happiness costs, the answer (at least for 7-year-old boys) is 10 dollars plus tax.

Summer Burnout

You know, after a summer spent incarcerated with 4 children and one angry teenager (the other, non-angry, teenager having been smart enough to get himself the heck out of here for the summer), I'm beginning to think that the joys of family togetherness are vastly overrated. June was fun (even with moving and all), but since then we've had approximately 60 days of temps in the 90's, humidity ditto; we've done 6 (count them, 6) jigsaw puzzles, eaten around 16 gazillion popsicles, celebrated about 15 "special" lemonade days, went to the pool so much that even the kids begged not to go again, and got absolutely nowhere on renovating/painting/cleaning up this house. In other words, we're in a rut. I think I'll go tell Larry that we need to take a cross-country trip, just to liven things up. He looks like he needs a vacation, anyway. And I've developed a strange hankering to see the Great Lakes.

I'd would like to point out (with a certain sense of pride) that I have not written about vomit for over a week. If I were just a bit more computer-savvy, I'd figure out how to put one of those widgets(?) on the side of my blog that would proclaim "This blog puke-free for (fill in the blank) days." Of course, I would have reset the counter to zero with this paragraph, I suppose.

Potty Animal

Summer's back - it went away for a few days and we were teased with sweatshirt weather and beautiful gray skies, but now it is back with a vengeance. That's okay - I like being miserable.

Potty training is going along swimmingly here, as usual (ahem). I decided that waiting far too long to train the other kids had caused all the problems we've had in the potty department; so I confiscated Susie's diapers months ago (before she turned 2). As a result, she pees on the floor and yells, "Towel!" and I run and bring towels to clean it all up. She's trained me pretty well, don't you think?

What I should have done is paper-trained her. And smacked her (gently) on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper every time she messed up. Too bad there is no #7 on the horizon to try that out on.

I Love Automatic Dishwashers

Library, Pool. Pool. Target. Pool. Library, pool. Target.

Things are getting a bit repetitive around here.

The good news is, the new dishwasher is coming today! Glory, hallelujah! I don't know how those big 19th-century farm families managed to wash all their dishes while milking the cows and feeding the horses and making all their own clothes. I feel as though I am already spending half the day just washing and drying dishes. And that's with the kids' help. (Although, maybe it would go faster without all that bickering and whining...)

One wonders how it is possible that I managed yesterday to forget not once but twice to put a diaper on Susie when she fell asleep. The upshot being that I woke up in the middle of the night to find myself soaking in a puddle of pee. Apparently, creeping senility and baby-raising do not mix - a powerful argument to have your kids while you are still young enough to take competent care of them. I sprang out of bed upon discovering my predicament, peeled off my disgustingly wet pajamas, diapered a still-slumbering Susie (a prime example, I believe, of locking the barn after the horse is stolen), piled (absorbent) cotton towels over the wet spot (because, of course, the other set of sheets is still waiting to be washed), and attempted (unsuccessfully) to get back to sleep. So much for my plan of waking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning and getting a zillion things done.

I would like to note here that Larry managed to sleep through this whole scene.

Still Summer

No rain. Hot. What else is there to say? The little kids, God bless 'em, are still excited about going to the pool. But what choice do they have? There's nothing else going on. Unless you count the new (the fifth one this summer) jigsaw puzzle we've started on the dining room table. How come the activities that would be considered pointless time wasters if I were an adult living alone become totally worthwhile just because I have young children? Maybe that's why I keep having babies - to justify my willingness to spend my summers doing jigsaw puzzles, making lemonade, and hanging out at the pool. A real adult couldn't get away with that. I've got it made. I think.

Dishwasher Suicide and Other Problems

Most amusing sight this week around our household - Larry lying on the couch, ignoring all the boxes and miscellany crowded into our family room and reading a book titled Get It Done. All I can say is, it wasn't working.

Theo has returned home from his summer job to a hero's welcome. I won't say it wasn't an emotional reunion at times, particularly when he opened the refrigerator door with tears in his eyes. He looks to have lost about 15 pounds over the summer. At least I've now got one kid who truly appreciates a full fridge and central air conditioning.


It's only been 2 months in our new abode, and we've already managed to kill the dishwasher. Actually, I think it committed suicide. After 20 years of being used only once or twice a week by the former owner, it just couldn't hack our 2-times-a-day-sometimes-3 regimen. Larry and I moseyed on over to Best Buy (anything to get away from the children, you know) to purchase a new one (because we are made of money); and we were surprised to realize that dishwashers (at least, ones sturdy enough to withstand our not-so-typical use) are costing upwards of 600 dollars these days. We were also surprised (well, not really) to realize that, out of approximately 20 display models, there was only one model that we managed to agree on. And it didn't come in white. So we came home dishwasherless, much to the dismay of Anna, who wants to know "what do you mean wash the dishes by hand?" and who is feeling much put upon lately. Anna is no longer 13, by the way, thanks be to God; we're hoping that her being 14 may bring us some relief from the hell that she has been putting us through for the past year.

We are even more relieved that Rachel is turning 5 tomorrow, which means that she will no longer be 4 and that maybe, just maybe, we can put the events of last year behind us. Not that we were traumatized by all the plumbing incidents, stuffed-animal beheadings, and whatever else she inflicted upon us over the past 12 months; we are just hoping for a teeny little respite from not being able to trust our own children. Age 5 is still too young for boarding school - I checked. Of course, she doesn't endear herself to me any further by her habit of voicing her thoughts out loud to herself. The other day, as I was getting dressed, I heard her commenting, "Mommies have big bottoms. Not cute little bottoms like mine." I guess it's time to get back to those Weight Watcher meetings.

David, Brian, and Susie are enjoying all the festivities and cake which are attendant on having 2 family birthdays within one week. And we are all enjoying (with the exception of Anna, who does not enjoy anything involving us) having Theo back home to cook us gourmet meals (hey, I do do most of the shopping and food prep). At least all the good food has helped to distract us from the fact that it has been in the 90's here for approximately forever, and it will remain that way for the foreseeable future. I think we need to move to Canada. Larry doesn't seem receptive to that idea, however. I think he's lost his sense of adventure somewhere. That's what happens as you age, I guess. He's got only 2 more months until he turns 40; and he's turning grayer by the minute. Though that may not all be due to the aging process, now that I think about it.

Well, time to be getting to bed - I've got 1/2 a bushel of peaches to turn into preserves in the morning, if they don't manage to rot overnight. Yet another over-enthusiastic purchase of mine at the local farmer's market, I'm afraid. At least they didn't cost as much as the 40 quarts of strawberries the kids brought home in June. I think we buy more produce in one summer than most people used to see in their entire lives.

Enough, already!

General Juvenile Behavior

Saturday was shaping up to be a good day until one of our neighbor's very sweet 4-year-olds suffered a blunt force trauma to the head, an injury which was, unfortunately, inflicted by my Brian in our basement. It didn't help that I didn't know which twin it was (nothing like shouting at a bleeding 4-year-old, "Who are you?!" while running to get his mother). Brian claims it was an accident (by-product of a pillow fight), and fortunately the victim's older sister corroborates his story. Whew. I'd hate to have to move again.

Larry and I went out for dinner that night to a "real" restaurant (meaning we didn't have to stand up to order our food). I spent the evening trying not to be grossed out by the fact that we unfortunately had a front row view of the butt crack (excuse my wording - I can't think of a polite way to say that) of some teenager sitting at the table next to us with a bunch of his friends. I would like to say in this underdressed teenager's defense, however, that he had good enough manners to put his napkin in his lap while he ate. Now if he could have just draped it behind him instead....

I decided that yesterday would be a pleasant stay-at-home day. Unfortunately, I forgot that the children would be there too. You know, the longer I'm a parent, the more I start thinking that "Children should be seen and not heard" is a really good idea. The little creatures whine and cry a lot. In a sudden fit of insanity, I decided to be a super-nice mommy and bake cookies with them in the afternoon; the first 5 minutes, Rachel screamed because we were making oatmeal raisin. The next few minutes, Susie screamed because Brian was mixing and she wasn't. Then Brian spent a while sobbing because Rachel (who had gotten over her disappointment) and Susie (likewise) were stirring in the wet ingredients without him. Then they all cried because I came to my senses and threw them out of the kitchen and put the dough on the cookie sheets myself.

Mealtimes are no better. If Susie doesn't like something that she has put into her mouth, she can't just spit it out onto her plate. She has to hold it in her hand and then scream at me until I take the masticated, spit-filled item from her personally. Besotted as I am with her, I still don't find this behavior charming. And for some reason, Rachel is unable to sit down at table for a meal without automatically whining about something on her plate. Brian pouts and whimpers if we expect him to eat anything that does not fall into the category of meat and potatoes, while Anna complains about everyone else's eating habits. We can't even invite anyone over for dinner - it's that embarrassing. I can't tape their mouths shut, because then they couldn't get the food in. IV feeding for the whole family is looking better and better to me.

There - have I complained enough? We're getting summer cabin fever here. And it's predicted to be in the 90's all week. The only saving grace this summer has been the kids' obsession with jigsaw puzzles - the real ones, the 1000-piece kind. I think we've done 4 already. They're sort of addictive. And Susie helps to make them even more challenging by taking apart the pieces when we're not looking. And throwing them back into the box. It's a good thing she's still cute.

Anna's birthday is coming up, and we're not sure what to get her. What does one get for the girl who hates everything? Or, at least, everything to do with us? Larry figures he may surprise her by giving her her bedroom door back. She slammed it one too many times a few weeks ago, and he snapped. I think it's in the attic now. I don't know - I'm staying out of this one.

Theo is heading back home next week, and I, for one, am looking forward to it. We've been eating so much dairy while he was gone that I've gained another 5 pounds. Talk about too much of a good thing.

Wow - I can't believe we still have all of August to endure down here in the semi-tropics. The mosquitoes are just starting to come out in force (they got a late start this year - sometimes a drought can be a good thing), my garden's dead, and Larry doesn't take me seriously when I tell him that what this family needs is a summer house on Martha's Vineyard. Or Nantucket. Everyone needs a change of pace every once in a while, is my thinking. Larry's thinking probably runs more along the lines of "Wives - they'll spend whatever you make." Well, yes - boredom will do that. It would be a little less boring around here if either one of us could figure out how to set up our DVD player - ever since the move, it's just been sitting there, defying all our attempts to get both sound and picture at once. I suggested that we just buy a new one. But Larry just got that look on his face again - you know, the one that says, "Wives...."

It's late - I have to post this before it becomes August, now don't I? Good-night, all.

Summertime Diversions

Larry noticed that I was climbing the walls with boredom and consented to take time off from work to take us all to the beach for the day. It's proof that I was bored out of my skull that I agreed to sit in the car for 3 and a half hours so that we could lug half our worldly possessions (or so it seemed) from the state beach parking lot to the one empty place on the sand and broil ourselves in the sun all day. Oh, and then drive all the way home that same evening. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea when he suggested it; and once we got to the hot, sunny beach and the children were cavorting in the waves and digging in the sand, both Larry and I felt repaid for our efforts. Until I couldn't see. I thought that my glasses were fogging up, so I took them off; but everything looked misty and weird still, and I was just deciding that I was suffering from some form of rapid-onset glaucoma when I noticed (with some relief) that the lifeguard was blowing his whistle and waving for everyone to come back to shore (not that anyone could see him that well). So there we were, sitting in the middle of a cloud and listening to the ocean and gazing at the first line of breakers (because that was all we could see) and trying to convince the kids that they should just enjoy playing in the sand, which is normally fun, but it isn't as much fun when it feels as though you are sitting in a small gray box. We decided to wait out the inclement weather (which Larry posited was brought on by global warming), since we weren't exactly going to pile back into the car at that point; and after an hour or so of waiting (with some moderate episodes of whining) and after eating some extremely expensive french fries, we decided to amuse the children by taking them for a walk down the beach. So we all stumbled down to the shoreline (I should have tied us together with ropes, for safety) and felt our way down the beach aways and half-heartedly played Frisbee as if it were bright and sunny out. It was pathetic. Then we felt our way back to our umbrella and blankets, with Larry and I saying to each other the entire way, "I think it's lifting" and "Say, isn't that a second line of breakers out there?" By 3:30 or so, the fog rolled back enough for the lifeguards to allow us back into the water and then the sun did come out and even Susie rebounded from her lack-of-nap slump and ran around giggling at the edge of the sea. Of course, the lifeguards all went home shortly afterwards, leaving us (literally) high and dry again. So we decided to call it quits and head home ourselves. A little disappointing, but I would like to think that the kids learned a valuable lesson: even a day at the beach isn't always....a day at the beach.

We only had to take one van, as Theo is away, so our whole day (including the french fries) cost a mere 65 dollars, which came to less than one dollar per person per hour. I think that is pretty cost-effective, don't you? I'm trying to watch our spending, which isn't hard to do, because there isn't much of it to keep an eye on anymore. That's what happens when you decide to increase your mortgage by 50 percent, you know? And I can't help wondering whether the sacrifice is worth it, just to live in a house where I still don't know where everything is and where all of Larry's free time and disposable income for the next, oh, 10 years is going to be spent fixing it up. Owning a home isn't all it's cracked up to be. I find myself fantasizing about renting a nice little 2-bedroom condo with a maintenance team on call. No, I don't know where I would put the kids. That's irrelevant. Sometimes you just have to look out for Number One.

Today was typical end-of-summer exciting (we start our summer vacation early, so we're near the end now - at least, it feels that way). We are sort of pooled-out, if you know what I mean; so we sat around and did a Hershey's Cocoa jigsaw puzzle (which made me hungry, of course) and then we went out and got our free ice-cream cones at McDonald's. They're free because nowadays all the public library systems bribe children to read books over the summer. Our local system hands out coupon books if the children read (or are read to) a mere 15 titles. So far we've gotten free Pizza Hut personal pan pizzas and the aforementioned ice cream cones. We're looking forward to our free boxes of real-fruit popsicles from Whole Foods, small pizzas from Jerry's Subs and Pizza (actually, I'm sort of dreading that one - the lady who runs the shop gets rather hostile when she finds out that you are actually going to eat your food at one of her tables), and free yogurt from the local grocery store. Cool! We also have to remember to collect our free books from Barnes and Noble (you only have to read 8 books for that one); I have to fill out a separate form, however. The paperwork involved with these freebies can be a little overwhelming at times. Oh, well, all in a day's work....

We're updating our car to the digital age by having a radio with CD player installed (my birthday present - thanks, Dad!). For no apparent reason, Honda was still putting tape decks in their lower end models back in 2004. Well, come to think of it, there was a reason - so they could try charging us 600 dollars to upgrade to a CD player. Or else to convince us to upgrade to the EX model that had the CD player included (which would have been a few extra thousand dollars, in which case that should have been one heck of an audio system). But we couldn't afford either option, so we've been driving around sticking cassette tapes into our radio, just like I'm sure those pioneers did in their covered wagons. Just try explaining the concept of a cassette tape to kids these days. Turn it over? Huh? Rewind? Auto reverse? How retro can you get?

And just to prove that I am not a complete sound system ignoramus, I'll let you know that I made sure that Best Buy is installing the cable that will make our new car stereo IPod compatible. Not that we own an IPod. But it's best to be prepared...in another 3 years, who knows? Compact discs may be on their way out.

Anyone need some old cassette tapes?

Late July - 2005

It's hot here. I know, it's hot everywhere. My friend in Utah had the nerve to complain about the 100-degree temperatures there. They're also suffering(?) from 18% humidity. Please. I'm practically wading out my front door every morning into what must be a humidity level of 548%. And beating back vicious, blood-sucking insects every step of the way. Otherwise, our summer is going along swimmingly (sorry, couldn't resist). Afternoons at the pool, mornings spent forcing recalcitrant children to do math ("but it's summer!" they whine - I told them they could enjoy summer when they are grown-ups and gainfully employed - yeah, I lied).

You know, not much really going on around here. I labor under the delusion that if I step outside when the temperature is above 100 degrees, I may spontaneously combust; so we have mostly been hunkering down inside (aside from the above-mentioned forays to the local swimming hole). It's almost like being snowbound in the winter, but less fun. UNO has gotten old (actually, the kids are mad because I'm winning - spoilsports). The only excitement we've had lately is when Rachel fell into the potty. She was pretty shaken up. That should only delay her potty-training by a year or so. Anna is doing her best to remind us that she is just about 12 ("I hate summer! I hate everything!") Larry hides in the basement during her tantrums, the coward. He has also been sending away for convent boarding-school brochures.

Well, I need to get back to dehydrating chicken for Theo and Larry's backpacking trip next week. Looks, um, delicious. Really.

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....