My Triumphant Return to the Internet

may not be so triumphant. Health problems (as usual). Testing being done. Details forthcoming. Suspense is killing me. Maybe other stuff too. More later, hopefully not MUCH later.

MAYHEM

I said I wouldn't blog about negative stuff but I'm not very good at finding the silver linings I guess so I have dropped off the face of the earth. Here is the laundry list. I keep thinking when I get a little distance/perspective I'm going to see so clearly how it was all for the best.

• FLOOD (AND OTHER VARIOUS LANDLORD PROBLEMS. I QUOTE, "Well how much water is there?" ME: About three inches right now but it's still coming in really fast. "Oh, so it's not SIX inches. You don't need to call a plumber." NOT JOKING.)
• FIRE (the vacuum)
• STOLEN IDENTITY (when they say, "Illegal immigrants just want a better life.", ask them whose.) THE GUY BOUGHT A HOUSE WITH HUSBAND'S SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER IN NOVEMBER
• GRANDAD HAS PANCREATIC AND PROSTATE CANCER
• DAD IS GETTING DIVORCED (NOT SURPRISING TO SOME OF YOU I KNOW BUT WHEN EVERYONE SAID HE'D CHANGED AND I SAID YEAH RIGHT, I REALLY WANTED TO BE WRONG.)
• I HAVE BRONCHITIS
• KIDS GOT FLU WHILE I WAS VISITING GRANDAD BEFORE MY OB PUTS THE BAN ON TRAVELING NEXT WEEK.

I'm hoping that things are going to settle down for a little while now and y'all will hear from me again.

Family Time and Lord of the Flies- It's All PG-13

Well it's been a crazy few weeks. We went to the every-other-year Brady family reunion at the end of June and had a great time. I always love hanging out with Husband's cousins and seeing the kids all hang out together. Altogether we're almost 100 people with half of those being kiddos. It's always really fun and somewhat exhausting.

HIGHLIGHTS:

Mr.Yuke(4) finding his BEST BUDDY Mr.J.T.(5) and spending every single minute together. Mr.J.T.(5) has a rule at his house that he can't visit friends/they can't visit him if his mom doesn't know their parents. He was shocked and then overjoyed to discover that I KNOW HIS MOM!!!!! so Mr.Yuke(4) can come over. !!!! I said, "Sure. SOMEtime. Not tomorrow. Not this year. But SOMEtime."
Mr.Yuke(4) didn't miss a beat: Yeah! I know! Like maybe when I'm PG-13 THEN I could go there!!!!!
They made plans to "be best buddies until [they] DIE. And after too."

CousinPA put together a funniest home videos night that had a special tribute to Husband's Grandma who you may remember left us the same week I lost the twins. It was really beautiful and had that "Let me go home" song on it that I love so much. Everyone was in tears. It was great. The woman lived a very full life. I told Husband later that I hope I live even half that full. (With this many kiddos that may be unavoidable. : ) )

They had a BIG GI-NORMOUS INFLATABLE WATERSLIDE on the first day. No, seriously. It was BIG.

We do a generations dinner one of the nights. I LOVE that. This year the grandparents all went out at 5:30 while us parents took our kids swimming in the hotel pool to get them tired, fed them fast food, and got them ready for bed so that the Grandparents could watch them at the hotel when they got back while we went out to dinner. We went to Chili's and had a great time. My favorite part of the evening was when SingerGirl told us an Emily Watts story. Essentially the story was about a trip Emily Watts took to Vegas and the intimidation she felt in hanging out in her bathing suit at the casino pool next to all the bronze hard-bodies. She ended up deciding that she would do them all the service of having someone to look better than in order for them to feel good about themselves. Charitable, no? Well at this point NotAFuddyDuddy says, "You know, I guess I always thought- it's not like people don't know what I look like. I'm not going to take off my clothes and they're going to go- 'OH MY GOSH!!! She's FAT!!!!! I had NO idea!' I thoroughly enjoyed that. Hopefully the humor wasn't just limited to her delivery of it.

The day after the reunion was over, we spent the day in one of our country's beautiful National Parks, just the eight of us. (Hee hee. That sounds funny.) Anyway, it was just us. It was really nice. We saw some beautiful scenery, hiked to a watertrickle, went to a museum, and drove THROUGH a mountain. MonsterTruck(3) got heat exhaustion and we didn't know the extent of it until that night as we were making the road trip back home when he started HALLUCINATING. I am not kidding. I'm talking FULL-ON acid-trip-style freak-out. Poor little kid. He just couldn't understand why we weren't DOING ANYTHING ABOUT THIS. (!!!!!!!!!!!) He screamed bloody murder for half an hour until we got home and got him in the shower. He never was convinced that what he was seeing was not there.

He had a fever the next day so I took him to the doctor. Turns out the heat exhaustion had combined with a virus we picked up at the reunion (The Pinkiest(5) got it too) and caused an extra-special side effect. Scary.

A couple days later I got said virus. Then I felt REALLY bad for the boy. It was HORR. I. BLE. It was some sort of infection of the spinal fluid that was localized in the neck and upper back. You know that feeling when water gets up your nose? Well it was like that only in your upper spine and the base of your head. It hurt A LOT and my arms got really weak like I couldn't lift them. Luckily the terrible pain and fever only lasted about a day and a half, but the recovery took almost a week of sleeping. The three of us slept a lot when we got back.

So I finally recovered from that fun (during which time the 4th of July came and went). [You know I was sick because the 4th is my MOST FAVORITEST holiday ever and I was so tired that all I was able to blog about it was the sentence I put down there about that stupid, terrible waste of $40 we spent at the movie theater that day. SO- happy 4th everyone! Freedom is a privilege that must be carefully guarded. : )] So anyway- I recovered. The next day I thought, oh good. I can finally get up and some stuff done. I got up. I showered. I put in a load of laundry. And I got a migraine. This pretty much only happens to me when I'm pregnant (migraines, that is). It was one of the really bad ones when you can't SEE. Sight is something that I depend on pretty heavily. Like toothpaste. And underwires. I NEED to see. I laid down in bed and sent the kids to every single neighbor within 5 houses in any direction in search of a caffeinated beverage. (That is DIVINE advice from my old OB.) Nobody had anything. I had no choice but to try to sleep it off, knowing full-well the Lord of the Flies scenario that would ensue. At one point during the day I vaguely remember hearing someone yell, "Kryptonite(1) ate the WHOLE jar of jelly!" I had visions of jelly stains on every surface of the first floor as I dozed. Fortune smiled on me in the form of the ProprietoroftheAllenCafe. She had loaned me a library book and she dropped by to get it so she could return it (hopefully before any overdue fines?). I'm a little hazy on the details but I know that upon seeing my children and the state they were in (I can only imagine, having spent my day gaining an appreciation for the blind,) she asked Little Mommy(9) if I was ok and did I need any help? LittleMommy(9) promptly replied that I had a migraine and what I needed was caffeine. TheProprietoroftheAllenCafe offered to get me something on her way back from the library and LittleMommy(9) sweetly informed her that it would need to be Dr. Pepper. (She's a good kid.) That angel of a woman brought me 2 liters of Dr. Pepper and took my jelly-slathered baby home with her. I picked Kryptonite(1) up about 4 hours later when the caffeine had kicked in and I could see again. I don't know what she looked like when she left but apparently it was bad enough to neccessitate a bath. THANK YOU ALLENCAFELADY!!! YOU ARE A LIFE-SAVER! (Unfortunately I think I probably mean that literally because who KNOWS what could have happened to her before Husband came home?)

Now I am trying to hang in there for a couple more weeks until FedEx brings my Twilight book. I re-re-read the three I have but there is still a couple weeks to go. Someone give me something to read, quick!!!

Slots and That Dirty Slut: Mr. Yuke(4) Goes Vegas

Slots:

A couple months ago, during our last round of dominoes, Mr. Yuke(4) called me to the bathroom.
"Mom, I slotted."
"What?!"
"I slotted. I tried to poop but lot of slot came out."
I have not looked at a slotted spoon the same ever since.


Now for the other:

In January our local grocery store parking lot became a quagmire of thick not-exactly-snow-more-like-soft-slush. It wouldn't go away and had become quite deep; deep enough to cover Mr. Yuke's(4) shoes in fact.

Husband took Mr. Yuke(4) to the store one night. When Mr. Yuke(4) jumped out of Max, his feet were instantly immersed in ice-cold mush.
Mr. Yuke(4): Ughh! I hate that dirty slut!
Husband: WHAT?!
Mr. Yuke(4): That slut- (points)- I hate it.
Husband trying not to laugh: Oh. Slushhhhhhhhhhhh.
Mr. Yuke unable to hear properly due to wind: Don't shush me! I HATE THAT DIRTY SLUT!!!
Man Walking By: sputter choke gasp guffaw

"Supernatural Beauty", Anyone?

SIGH. Nope.

While 42% of my voting readers will apparently in no way appreciate this...

On a related note, they picked the Cullens. So sad, really. Kelly's picks were SO MUCH BETTER. Especially her Carlisle.

Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. We moved on from flu to strep. Apparently it's been going around. Yay.

The Donzerlee Light

I love New Year. It is one of my favorite holidays. This is for two reasons:

1. I get to have a big party with lots of food which is not obligatory (read: Thanksgiving). Planning parties is my favorite.
2. It's a good chance to start out fresh. For example: I have said my morning prayer every day this entire year. Sounds encouraging, doesn't it? Try one.

Our party last night was so much fun. Brother, Cute Sister, and Slugger Jr.(3) sent us a movie kit for Christmas. It had a whole bunch of boxes of movie candy, mini microwave popcorn bags, tickets which read "admit one to [Aberjaber] family movie night", and the DVD of "Surf's Up". So last night we brought the t.v., dvd player, and the wii down from the playroom to the living room. We moved the furniture around and we watched the movie. After it was over, we ate a ton of other party food and played the wii for almost two hours. We had a great time. Mostly.

It used to be our policy that just the older kids got to stay up until midnight. We would send the younger kids to bed around 9:00 when they felt like they'd stayed up really late and were super tired anyway. This was a good plan. Unfortunately, nobody informed the little kids of the details. See, we'd send them to bed and they would get up. Every ten minutes. All night long. They would sneak ever so subtlely (like a stampeding herd of buffalo) to some vantage point where they could witness the goings on of the party until they were sent back to bed. Again. So this year, we decided to just extend them an official invitation to the party rather than deal with Bedtime Tourette's all night long. Mr. Yuke(4) was particularly thrilled about this. All day he kept talking about how he was going to stay up UNTIL TOMORROW!!! I kept telling him that it would still be dark and that he would have to go bed as soon as the party was over. He looked a little confused by this the seventeen times we had this conversation but he always agreed with me. At midnight we did crackers, toasted the new year, and exchanged hugs- then I promptly banished them all to bed so Husband and I could play some serious wii. The other children went right away, happy to have stayed up so late and have so much fun. Mr. Yuke(4), however, was LIVID.

Mr. Yuke(4): "YOU SAID I COULD STAY UP TIL TOMORROW!!! YOU SAID I COULD STAY UP ALL NIGHT!!! I WANT TO WATCH SUPERMAN!!!"

Me: "Honey, it is tomorrow. It's the new year. It's after midnight. Remember when I said it would still be dark?"

Mr. Yuke(4): "BUT IT IS NOT MORNING!!!"

Me: "You need to go to bed. I love you. Goodnight."

Husband: "Goodnight, [Mr. Yuke(4)]. I love you."

Mr. Yuke(4): LOUDLY under his breath- "This is NOT what I signed up for."

I don't know where he gets that stuff from. So funny! Anyway, in spite of Mr. Yuke(4) melting down as only he can, and Monster Truck(2) throwing up at about 10:30, we had a really good time. I hope you all rang in the new year as cheerfully. Good luck with your resolutions!

What The Grinch Stole, The Robbers Gave Back

On Sunday after church, while Bubba(6) was still in his suit and Mr. Yuke(4) was in a white shirt and his underwear ("Call me 'Captain Underpants!"), they went down to the forbidden zone and rummaged through the toys that are out of rotation. (We rotate the toys in the playroom every couple of weeks so that everything gets played with and cleaned on a regular basis. The toys not in the playroom are on shelves in the basement.) Somewhere down there they found swimming goggles. I do not know why we have these. We have never purchased goggles. Ever. Anyway, the obvious course of action when you are in a suit and goggles is to be a bank robber. I didn't know this. I saw them tiptoe-ing up the stairs and inquired what they were sneaking off to do. They turned around, fixed their goggle stares on me, and whispered, "We're robbers." I had a hard time keeping a straight face, not expecting two sets of goggles to be looking at me. When they were upstairs, Husband said, "I don't know what's wrong with this generation. When I was a kid" (doesn't he sound old?) "we always wanted to be the HERO." I answered, "Well they usually do too. But today they couldn't, OBVIOUSLY." Him- "Why not?" Me- "Because 'hey- goggles.'"

You know that I've been under the weather. Extreme Cinnamon Rolls, PT, Husband out of town, exhaustion and morning sickness that lasts all day long (that's the worst misnomer in the English language), kids with flu, threatening miscarriage of twins, etc. We didn't have Thanksgiving really and I just barely did the shopping for Christmas, and we probably aren't going to eat much on Christmas either. If I'm not in the middle of a miscarriage, I will still be sick as a dog and cooking food is the enemy.

We have not put up our tree yet. It's sad and I've missed it but I can only do so much. Right now, "so much" consists of waking up at some point in the a.m., changing diapers, fixing bottles, feeding children, drinking water, catching up on laundry, besides making sure all the kids have clean pajamas to wear to school for "Polar Express Day" and gifts to exchange for their school and church classes. I've got my wife to murder and Gilder to frame for it. I'm swamped. Oh wait- no. I don't have a wife. But I have had all that other stuff going on in addition to the normal December madness. Really, all things considered, I've been pretty okay with not having the tree up. This week was the first chance we've really had to get it out and now- what with being COMPLETELY distracted with worrying about the babies, I just don't feel like it is worth the energy (that I do not have anyway) to drag all that stuff out for just one week. I've pondered the possibility that Christmas is about the Savior anyway so maybe those nice, pretty reminders are not completely necessary and it might be nice to have an old fashioned, spartan Christmas. Well, yesterday someone informed me that not having a Christmas tree is bordering on CHILD ABUSE. I am not making this up. I pointed out that maybe if she thought about all those children who are regularly beaten by their parents, she would realize that not having a Christmas tree is a FAR CRY from that. She asked, "Well how would you feel if you were a kid without a Christmas tree?" I answered, "It came without ribbons, boxes, or bags.... It came. Somehow... it came just the same." (How the Grinch Stole Christmas- Dr. Seuss) No. In spite of the reference to her favorite Christmas book, she would not concede. ("It's IMPORTANT to them!") I told her that I honestly don't think they'll care. I'm pretty sure that all they care about is GETTING STUFF and that isn't going to be a problem. She answered loftily that it is a decision you're just going to have to make. Just like that, with the italics and everything. And now- even though I was fine with not having a tree before (because as I said, I can only do so much), now I feel like garbage.

I was wondering tonight how I am going to focus on The Greatest Gift/the Savior this coming week when every corner of my mind is completely consumed with worrying- and trying not to think about the twins. Then Husband started singing lullaby-hymns to Muhloo(8m). I thought of that little baby in his mother's arms; the one who made it possible for me to hold all my wonderful children in mine. The baby who made it a reality that I will know these children someday, whether in this life or the next. And suddenly, I knew.

All my preoccupation with the possibilities would not matter in the least if it were not for the baby born in Bethlehem.

Merry Christmas.

"goggles" by Julie K in Taiwan; "Golden Christmas" by krisdecurtis

The Cats Are Out of the Bag

Well, I haven't posted for a while because I've been sick. I had the flu Monday and Tuesday- a natural reaction to the domino effect started by Mr. Yuke 2 weeks ago which is still finishing up with the last family members right now. Cleaning up the puke and diarrhea has kept me too busy to blog. (Sorry if that grosses you out.) I've been wondering WHY we spent the money and the time and the aggravation to go get those stupid flu shots. AND, I've had morning sickness for the last three weeks as well.

Yup. That's right. Husband looked at me and now I'm pregnant. Again. It's a good thing and I have been excited (between the bouts of nausea and exhaustion). Until yesterday.

Husband and I thought it would be a fun joke not to tell our families about the baby. We thought that it would be hilarious to just show up next time we see them either with me all huge and say that WW is not working for me, or with an extra kid in tow and say, "What are you talking about? We've always had this many." Besides the fact that it would be funny, it would spare me an extra 10 months of disparraging remarks from my grandparents, and the general strain-to-approve from the rest of the family. Don't get me wrong. A lot of them try really hard to be supportive. It's just that having a big family goes against everything the media has been telling them their whole lives. (For those of you who think having many children is irresponsible, I refer you to this article. We have never needed financial assistance from either our church or the government and our kids are all happy and well adjusted.)

So getting to yesterday. I went in for my ultrasound to find out my due date. Being a person not blessed with a regular cycle, I never know how far along I am. By normal indicators, I should have been 8 weeks, 4 days. The babies actually measured 6 weeks, 1 day. Yes. I said "Babies". Well, yay! That's so exciting in a terrifying roller coaster-ish sort of way. Except that the ultrasound did not have good news. There actually weren't any "babies" at all. I had two beautiful gestational sacs which appeared to be empty. This means that although they COULD be ok, there is a higher probability that I am going to lose them both. I have another ultrasound on the 28th to check for babies. We decided last night that our plan to keep the pregnancy under wraps was not going to work, given the circumstances. Even if the babies end up being fine next week, there are so many things that can go wrong with twin pregnancies that we felt our families needed to know. That way, we won't be calling them up when I am 6 months along and saying, "Baby B is dying from Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome." or some other horrid thing like that out of the blue.

My whole life I've wanted 8 children and I hate being pregnant so much that having these babies be healthy, normal twins would be the perfect ending to our family. I want them and I am hoping that they will be ok. I am afraid to be excited. I would appreciate any prayers on our behalf. Whatever happens, "His eye is on the sparrow[s] and I know He's watching over me".

"Sparrow Twins" by e3000

Revenge of Hocker Ooze

Well, it's here. Again. Flu season. That time of year when I take a half dozen kids for a round of group therapy (immunizations) because- hey, that would be fun. We are working toward the goal of screeching hysterically in harmony. Sort of like the VonTrapp's; hypodermic-style. We're not there yet, of course. Muh-loo(6m) holds us back.

Interestingly enough, I have a theory that going through this annual ordeal makes us sick. Now, I'm not talking about the school of thought maintained by rabid anti-immunization lobbyists. I think getting shots keeps us all much healthier and I'm all for it. No, my theory centers more around the location of the ordeal. (No- I don't mean arm vs. leg. Keep reading.) See, we go to the pediatrician's office for our shots. (You've gotta go back and read that with a southern accent.) But do you know what? There are Others who also go to the pediatrician's office. They're called SICK PEOPLE.

Did you know that sick people have germs? True story. The last four years, (when I decided I could no longer abide the Domino Effect caused by the barrage of Just-arrived-from-a-random-third-world-country-illegal-immigrants, and snot-nosed, school-aged children we have nearly constant contact with and that flu shots were not as unnecessary as my mother always tried to make me believe-) after I have taken my clan for their flu shot, they- and I am not making this up- have been sick with Croupe within 48 hours. Every time. And for some reason, about this same time every year, either Husband or I becomes EXTREMELY sick with Bronchitis and/or Walking Pneumonia so that- when a feverish child is up all night wheezing and coughing in such a bark that dogs in London actually start looking for lost puppies, I never know if it is Croupe or if this is the year the child has actually caught Bronchitis from the doting (hacking) parents. So now somehow, half the half dozen children are oozing- well we'll call it "stuff"- from every orafice in their heads, and I'm thinking that if there is a Hocker Ooze out there somewhere, my blog must have pissed him off and now he is wreaking his havoc in my personal corner of the universe. So eventually I end up taking them back to the doctor where (insert pediatrician's name here) says, "Yup. Sounds like croupe. Use a humidifier. Maybe try cold air." and then the receptionist is like, "That will be ten dollars, please." and I'm all, no- you pay me ten dollars! and then clean your waiting room. with lysol. And then I shell out the cash, cringing as I watch to see whether or not the mag strip on my debit card has worn out from all the physical therapy co-pays in the last two weeks. (DANG! No such luck.) So while I'm waiting for the little paper to print out, I take a mental inventory of all the children's decongestants currently in the cupboard at home and I realize that I have tons of it. It's all for the ages of the healthy kids in the family. For the sick ones, I'm going to have to go buy some more, and that's going to be another fifteen bucks. And then I begin to feel nauseous and try not to hurl as I total up the cost of our healthcare in the last month and I wonder how many of our kids will be in college before we can afford to go on a date again.
And THAT is how getting flu shots makes you sick.

Better Off Dead

I haven't blogged for a while. Nothing was funny for a few days. That's called P.M.S.. Then my inlaws came. That's called A.C.C. (Aw Crap! Clean up, quick!). Then they left- but not before I got very sick. I even had to miss out on kid-trading-for-an-escape-day with TwinScrapper. And I haven't even talked to her about it yet. So now I'm on the mend and I have all kinds of stuff to chat about. For example, how Husband is four days behind me in this miserable illness I am emerging from. He was very cranky tonight. Like DON'T-look-at-me cranky. And I can't help but think about the fact that four days ago when I was hacking up my lungs, he was propositioning me. Interesting how perspectives change. And also- why is it that when I get sick the kids seem to think I'm on some wonderful feverish luxury vacation up there in my bed and that probably all the secretions coming out of every hole in my head are somehow a manifestation of my pure joy in relaxation from all the not lifting a finger I do when I am THAT SICK. This of course would lead any youngster to want to join in the vacation and also not lift a finger with me. And the house falls apart in the space of a few hours on the first day and I pray that nobody will call the cops about the state of affairs downstairs because I'm really sick and it's not usually like that and all I want is a little rest and TO STOP COUGHING LONG ENOUGH FOR THE MUSCLES AROUND MY ABS TO STOP HURTING AND IS THAT ASKING SO MUCH!!! So they all join me in not lifting a finger in spite of my piteous efforts to command them to DO THEIR WORK and then it takes weeks- if not longer- to get caught up again. I do not understand how they manage it, really. I don't think I could ransack a place that quickly and completely, even if there were some sort of official t-shirt and a cash prize at the end of it. That's my children. Talented. So, waaaaah. Poor me. Actually, it's not all bad. I actually caught myself thinking that I will have lost quite a lot by the time I go weigh in again.

Now that I've gotten all the crud off my chest, (if not totally OUT of it)- Let me tell you about the field trip to the Pumpkin Patch. The Pinkiest(5) and her class had a field trip to the pumpkin patch. They went with the afternoon kids and that meant she had lunch at like 9:45 am and she had to show up at school with a water bottle and tennis shoes and sunscreen (oops.) and NO BACKPACK. Not that I particularly cared about any of these directions but the No Backpack thing seemed to be a real big deal for the kindergarten teachers because they sent home four different notes about it. The Pinkiest(5) also needed $2.00. This was absolutely required and if they did not bring it they would not get a pumpkin and they would not get a treat and they would not get a visit from Santa Claus and they would not get to go to the pumpkin patch! Ok, ok, we'll send her stupid $2.00. Geez. So, a week and a half before the field trip she starts asking me for the money. About ten times a day. I say yes, don't worry. We'll get your two dollars. 5 days before the field trip The Pinkiest(5) is practically in meltdown mode. "I need my two dollars." "Where is my two dollars?" "Don't forget my two dollars!" "What about my two dollars?"
ME: YES!!! I'LL GET YOUR TWO DOLLARS. JUST WAIT!
So she waited that morning, only bringing it up about fifteen more times. We get in the car because she missed the bus and as I'm driving her to school I realize- CRAP!!! I forgot the two dollars. That's just great. I start thumbing through my wallet. All I have is a five. She of course notices me perusing the cash stash and pipes in, "I NEED my two dollars!" And all I can see in my mind's eye is an image of claymation fast food items dancing. (Someone please confirm that those were in that movie and I'm not just losing my mind on random rejected commercial ad campaign pitches.) So I toss the five at her while emphatically stating that I want ALL the change and that means three dollars and I want it all. "Yeah. Ok, mommy. Bye." I watched her walk away with a sinking feeling that I'd never see that three dollars again.
And a strange desire to get a paper route.

Fast forward to later that day, about 15 minutes after she got home from school. Crying she says, "I lost my money!!!"
ME: What money?.... You mean MY money? My three dollars?
The Pinkiest(5): No, it's five. The sub wouldn't take it.
You can imagine my exasperation at this point. Because just what kind of amateurs are they paying to sub down at that school who don't even take care of the important things like collecting money for a field trip they know nothing about that's five days away? Doesn't this woman know that Murphy's Law and The Forces of the Universe and the brain of a mother of 6 all state that these sorts of things can only be remembered ONCE and therefore she will surely not have that stupid two dollars turned in for the field trip no matter how hard I try to make sure she does? It's unnatural. Well, then The Pinkiest(5) goes on to explain that she had the money in her backpack and she took it out when she got home to play with it (because why not? She's been home for fifteen minutes.) and it got lost. (Funny how kids always put it like that- "IT got" lost. I really had very little to do with it.)

Luckily she found it that night and I confiscated it. The good news is that the day of her fieldtrip I happened to read over the gazillionth note from the teachers about the requirements (Water bottle. Check. Sunscreen. In a minute. Two dollars. Oh crap!-) and we were able to find exactly two dollars this time around. But in the hunt for "my two dollars" we forgot the sunscreen. I guess two dollars and skin cancer late in life are a small price to pay for a pumpkin from the real-life actual pumpkin patch. At least she had a jacket with her and has therefore, NOT gotten sick. (Mom logic.) John Cusak's got nothin' on me.

Bears, Celebrity Death Match, and Dominoes

We just got back from a family reunion. It was what all family reunions are. Fun, all in all, but fun with a backdrop of the up-close and personal look at exactly what you were escaping when you took that plunge and, risking life, jumped from the nest. It was far too short, actually. The reunion, not the jump. The time FLEW by. Let me tell you about some of the stuff I was NOT escaping when I left home.

We spent two of the days out camping. This was a bit of a worry for my kids, especially The Pinkiest (4). It did not help that a bear actually ate a kid near where we live one week before we left for the reunion. In spite of my trying to shield them from this information, my kids found out about it from their friends. Shielding kids from stuff never works. They will still come face to face with whatever it is eventually. Someone should inform the Jehovah's Witnesses of this. Teacher actually had one student this year whose parents wanted Teacher to pretend that Martin Luther King is not celebrated on his birthday but that it is just a day on which we happen to honor him. Like that child is somehow never going to find out that Martin Luther King Day is the date of his birth. As if. These are the same people who somehow believe that if they insist entire school districts bend to their way of doing things their (I can only assume SLOW) children will somehow be protected from knowledge of the evil practice of holiday observance. Does calling it a "winter party" instead of a Christmas party and using no decorations that might or might not be traditionally used to decorate for said holiday change the fact that Christmas is being celebrated by a large segment of the population and these same prohibited decorations are in every store, post office, bank, and street for at least two months. Who do they think they are fooling? Are their kids really that dumb? Or do they keep them in their houses for those five months until Jim Bob finally takes his Christmas lights down in March? It should be called "Politcal Buncha Crap". There is nothing correct about it. But I digress. Shielding kids from stuff never works. Learning about child-eating animals "in the woods" meant that The Pinkiest was not going to be able to sleep "in the woods" until her Father promised to bring his guns with him. Which meant I was not able to sleep, knowing there were weapons around not locked up. Ok. That is an exaggeration. I sleep no matter what. Typhoon, earthquake, crying baby, midterm. But I was concerned. Granted, they weren't loaded, and the kids didn't know where they were, but it still worried me.

My Cute Sister bought the kids bug catching nets and houses which were such a hit that they are still talking about them. (This is a long time in kid years. Attention spans for these sorts of things usually maxes out around 2 days.) The bug catching kept them busy and Bubba (6) still hasn't forgiven me for not allowing him to bring a bug home and feed it. The fun really got going when Brother taught the kids how to host a celebrity death match bug-style and put a red ant and a spider into a magnifying jar together. (Interestingly enough, we all thought that ant was toast. In actuallity, the ant killed the spider in about 5 minutes. I'm sharing this scientific discovery to assauge the guilt I feel over watching it happen.)

The campfire was lovely. The second day Teacher thought we didn't have enough firewood so she bought two more bundles from the campground host. Brother, who believed we were all up too late the night before, decided that he was going to burn through that wood in the same amount of time that it would have taken without it, and built a fire that we could have fired ceramics on. I swear we sat so far away from it that we could just sort of see it in the distance and don't even get me started on how painful roasting marshmallows was. I think I nearly cooked my face. (Just kidding, Brother! It was a good fire.) Well anyway, when the firewood was gone all us girls were not ready to be done with fire, so Cute Sister and I went looking for sticks. We came back and threw them on the dying embers in a fashion that would have made any boyscout ashamed to admit to knowing us. The fire brightened back up and we sat and enjoyed it for two whole minutes before we needed more sticks. We repeated this process a number of times all the while being mocked by those less enthusiastic than ourselves. (Hey, it was dark.) Then Teacher lugged an uprooted tree stump over to the fire and we were able to sit and enjoy the fire until it died out. I would describe how the stump was too big for the fire-ring and was sort of precariously balanced on the metal part and how we prayed we weren't going to start a forest fire, but I couldn't do it justice.

We managed to make it home without poison oak, forest fire, or death by man-eating bear so the camping trip was a success. We did not however, make it home without either pee all over the tent or the flu. Mr.Yuke (3) recently learned the joy of peeing out of doors at the father-and-sons campout. I think Dad may have left out some of the finer points in the instruction stage. Like don't pee uphill from the tent, don't pee from the tent, don't pee toward the tent, etc. What a mess. It was not fun to clean up but luckily only one of us was sick at that point. Poor hubby had to help me take down tents inbetween bouts of throwing up. What fun. The rest of us went like dominoes over the next several days. In spite of all the sickness, the reunion was great. Cute Sister did a wonderful job planning it. We'll go again. But maybe next time we'll be a little more prepared- with a target. Think about it.