Charlyn’s Web

Don’t worry, I am still semi-sane and The Boy is still alive. The Toy Shotgun is, very sadly (sarcasm dripping from every word) , having many misfires- I think from bent darts. Some darts are lost, some are broken, sigh, it really is a shame. (snicker) I’ve had to listen to the Buyer’s remorse that he should have bought the other toy gun and how he likes the other gun he has better and why. There is only so much that I can listen to and maintain a sympathetic face but I try valiantly.

Finally, after about ten years, I purchased new glasses in August. Not that anyone has noticed. I went from larger round shaped lenses to stylish, smaller rectangular shaped ones and NO ONE noticed. Or at least said anything. Maybe they are being polite and since they can’t think of anything nice to say, they aren’t saying anything. But, anyway, I like them. I took them off on Saturday because I was getting a lovely back rub from Col. Panic and somehow they ended up on the floor… where a Pixie stomped on them. Pixies can do damage. Now they are lopsided and crooked on my face. I feel sloped when I wear them, like I have to keep adjusting my head. So I am back to my old glasses. I wore the old ones to Church yesterday. No one noticed. I will have to take the new ones in to be fixed because I can’t get them right myself. But I am sure no one will notice either way.

We received the wonderful news that a friend of ours is expecting their first baby and I think that news planted a seed in my sub-conscious because I had a dream Saturday night that The Col. was wanting another baby. In my dream, I was thinking- “but I’ve given everything away! What was I to do? ” And then all the complications that would arise with a new baby. What was he thinking? At my age??!!? Cue the hysterical laughter.

It ain’t gunna happen folks.

I sniveled after it died. Whined when I had none. But have been fairly quiet about the replacement. Yes, I am revisiting the microwave issue. The new one is a GE Sensor Microwave Oven and overall, good. It has taken a while to get used to The New Guy on the Block after having the same one for 16 years. It’s more powerful than the old one so it’s taking practice to figure out how long to leave things in there without reducing them to molten, rubber objects. One lid has been “re-shaped”, shall we say, but we have not melted any containers, which is a good thing. Probably what I don’t like about it the most is that a person has to press “Time Cook” when a time less or more than a straight number is wanted. Did that make sense? If I want to heat something for 25 seconds (which I often do because I am horrible about finishing that last swallow of coffee and I don’t want it cold or boiling, thank you) I have to press “Time Cook” before I press the 2. If I press the 2 first then it turns on automatically for a two minute run. Grrrr! Also if you wanted to heat something for 1 minute 15 seconds, the “Time Cook” would have to be pressed first. Rather inconvenient if you ask me. There is a “Add 30 seconds” button which is nice and I use it quite a bit. I find that with the high power, I don’t need to heat things for very long and that makes the auto option on the numbers not at all handy. The defrost works well- which is a good thing as well as I plan ahead for dinner. (Hmm, it’s 3 o’clock, what’s for dinner? Girl! It’s too early to think about- keep blogging!) The popcorn button runs too short so I stand there and listen to it popping merrily away with 15 seconds left and just KNOW that there will tons of un-popped kernels left if I let it stop so I push that handy “Add 30 seconds” button but don’t let it run till the end of that! Did that once, burned popcorn anyone?

We recently acquired a new bread machine- ahem, excuse me a new “bread bakery”. Fancy, huh? It’s a very nice model that will hopefully last longer than a year or two, like the old one. It’s a Zojirushi– try saying that fast! It has a traditional shaped bread loaf pan and two kneading paddles in it. It can make a two pound loaf. So far it’s worked well. I wasn’t happy with the whole wheat recipe provided by the company- the top was flat and bumpy- not smooth. I am in the process of trying other whole wheat recipes most of which are turning out smooth on top but not rounded like a ‘real’ loaf would be. A small complaint because the texture and taste are good. I’ll keep fiddling with it. I was without a bread machine for a few months and found I really missed it.I’m just too lazy to make it by hand. I like having whole wheat bread without preservatives in it to feed my family (doesn’t that sound high and mighty!). Also, being that I am cheap thrifty, I think it will cost less in the long run for bread. One Christmas I used the other bread machine to make Cinnamon Swirl bread for The Col.’s co-workers (small loaves). I think they enjoyed it- and if they didn’t I never heard about it so they just may get it again someday.

The last item is not an appliance but it is a useful tool that is new to us- The Van. Overall we are pleased with it. The sliding doors are wonderful! It’s easy to reach the Girls and buckle them in. It’s comfortable. Things work in it. The fuel economy on long drives isn’t too bad- in town it leaves a little to be desired. After having diesels for so many years it’s a surprise to see such a difference. The ride is noisy and it lacks a certain…flash …but we’ll keep it.

On this day, many years ago, I walked down the aisle to wed the man that I loved and started on a new and interesting journey in my life. How young we were, how many adventures we were to have together. How many more await us?

I remember many anniversaries that we have had- like the year we were on harvest and we both forgot that it was our anniversary until the very end of the day. The year I had just found out I was pregnant with our first child. The years of trying to squeeze in time together with kids yelling “Oh yick! They are hugging!”

In all those years, we have not gone off for a night someplace special alone together; even before kids when things were easier. We did spend a night alone last year, the first since kids, but it was more for The Col.’s birthday than for our anniversary.

But this year we rounded up a Brave Babysitter and left her in charge of our Brats Precious Children and drove off into the sunset…

in our Mini-van. We wouldn’t have believed on that day many eons ago when we wed that we would be driving off for a special evening in a (cough) Mini-van! At least the car seats were not in it so we could pretend that we were really cool people that need a van to carry our many, many friends around in. Think we fooled anyone?

We drove to the neat town about an hour away. The Col. tried to find a nice B&B to stay in but they were all full. So we stayed in The Budget Inn. Yep, sounds impressive doesn’t it? It really was a nice room and affordable! Which is important to a cheap frugal person like me. Plus it was close to downtown and we took several enjoyable strolls there.

Then we set off to find a place to eat. We were hungry and decided on “Mess-ican”, as some in our house say it, because you get chips right away, not because we like it- ya know. 😉 We decided on one across town and on the way there discovered there was one right by our hotel but we didn’t know it’s reputation so continued on. We got there to find out the restaurant had changed hands and was now the same as the one right by the hotel! And it was packed. We drove back to the one by the hotel and it was packed too! We drove to another one and it wasn’t so full. Whew! Food! And uninterrupted conversation!

I was awakened before 7 by my husband this morning. Sigh. I don’t know why someone who doesn’t sleep decided to marry a Sloth. It’s really annoying to the Sloth. I heard from The Brave Babysitter that the kids slept until 7! I could have gotten another 15 minutes if I’d been at home! Gosh!

We strolled down to the downtown area and ate breakfast at a very nice place, browsed a book store and talked without interruptions again. Wow.

We made it home this afternoon and relieved the Brave Babysitter. She wasn’t bound and gagged and acted like she had a great time. Wonders never cease.

It was a wonderful time together. It’s what we deserve after 17

L O N G,

H A R D

Years!

Thanks Babe! I’d do it again.

This last Tuesday, our local home school association went on a field trip to the nearby National Guard facility. We had a great time, and met some wonderful men in uniform who gave us the grand tour. We took lots of pictures, some of which you will find filed under the galleries page here.

It’s all a matter of perspective. Not the deep kind of perspective I’ve talked about before but the simple sight differences between Child and Parent.

Children are supposed to have innocent eyes who see the world with freshness and wonder. Parents on the other hand are known to be cynical, hardened beings who just don’t get it.

So it is in this household.

I empty a container and am about to throw it away when HP comes up- “Don’t throw that away!”

Why not? It’s trash replies his Mother proudly because she is a known pack rat and is just learning the joys of actually throwing and giving things away.

“I could use it for something! Put something in it!”

I don’t think so! Knowing that ‘something’ means ‘water’. Besides, have you seen his room lately? But that is another story.

We went shopping awhile back for shoes. We were in a largish store that sells a number of things. The Kids discovered the things in the shoes to help them hold their shape. They are long black plastic things with a hook on one end. They loved them! We somehow came home with more than were in the shoes we bought. They also found….somewhere (the floor?) a blue plastic thing that kind of looks like a bulb but isn’t. It has been a valued item with several fights disagreements over it’s ownership.

On this same trip I spied KJ, between the drinking fountains and the Ladies Room, reach down and pick up something off the floor. I, being the sane, calm Mother, am yelling at her to PUT IT DOWN! It’s trash for goodness sakes! Move away s l o w l y! But, you see, she couldn’t be sure of that until she looked at it closer. She reluctantly put it down again.

On our walk today HP found a beer bottle cap in the dirt. What a find! He was very pleased.

What in the world are you going to do with that?

He smiles and shrugs. But he NEEDS to have it! Sigh. I inform him that if I find it on the floor, on the table, etc. I am throwing it away!

Broken toys, broken necklaces, parts of toys that are meant to be used in a different manner, rocks, pieces of pens, hair clips are just some of the things I find in the most interesting of places, being used in the most interesting of ways and, most often, scattered from here to kingdom come. But try and throw them away (the ones that need to be thrown away) and oh the agony and gnashing of teeth!

I have a hard enough time keeping this place picked up and clean without the added burden of extra trash being brought into the house. But see, that is where my perspective is off- in my children’s eyes it’s all very valuable treasure.

I decided it was high time to clean the shower in the Master Bath. I know it’s autumn but I don’t think the tub should be decorated in orange and brown even at this time of the year.

I bought a new shower liner, took the old one down, washed the pretty outer part and sprayed down the tub.

As I started to work TG decided to join me.

“Are you cleaning Papa’s shower?”

Yep.

She kneels down next to me.

“This is Papa’s shower but he lets you use it.”

Yep, Papa is nice that way. He also “lets” me clean it.

“There’s your stinky butt.”

It’s just my back and butts aren’t stinky.

“Are you cleaning the tub?”

Yep.

“There’s your stinky butt, again.”

Honey, we don’t say butts are stinky and in this house we use the term “bum.”

She breathes the fumes in deeply and I cringe thinking that when she gets lung cancer, I will remember this moment with horror.

Why don’t you go outside?

“No!”

Why don’t you get dressed?

After much fussing about she takes off her nighty and gets her pants on.

“Will you snap my pants?”

My head is stuck in the tub still and my gloved hands are all wet and dirty.

Ah, no.

“Snap my pants!”

You’ll have to wait until my hands aren’t dirty and wet.

“Look at me!”

She’s standing with her head on the floor and her bum up in the air.

I have to look to get her to stop saying it over and over.

Why don’t you put your shirt on?

“No, my pants aren’t snapped.”

Yes, why don’t you get your shirt on and brush your teeth while you wait for me?

“But my pants aren’t snapped.”

Sigh.

Finally, the job is done, I get her pants snapped and her shirt on. After her version of “looking” for her shoes is over (playing with other stuff while saying she can’t find her shoes) she finally goes outside leaving me to wonder how I ever got stuff done without all this help.

We went to a parade in town on Saturday. The kids had been looking forward to it. Because of all the neat things that are in the parade, you ask? Because of the fire trucks, horses, old cars, and Native Americans in beautiful regalia? Silly you. No, it’s because many people hand out candy! Their supply was getting low. It’s a long stretch between Easter and now when they don’t have occasions to get candy and fill their stashes.

I am a mean Mommy in that I don’t let them gobble their candy down when they get it. I make them keep it in the pantry, in bags with their initials on it, and dole it out after they have eaten their lunch. They have come to expect it lately so it hasn’t happened as often.

Now their bags have some new stuff in them. A few more lollipops- which is a favorite. It should help them get through until our Church’s Harvest Party where they get the mother lode of candy supplies. It used to be they didn’t eat the chocolate as much, preferring the other candies so a little Mousey would come along and help get rid of it for them. Now, unfortunately for the Mousey, they have discovered the joys of chocolate. Isn’t it a shame?

Patience is a virtue, so I am told. Motherhood will expand that virtue farther than you ever thought possible and in the strangest ways. One of my expanding (no puns intended) places is in public restrooms.

Public restrooms may seem an odd place to grow patience but they are a breeding ground for it. They are inherently disgusting, with the germs, lack of cleanliness and smells, to begin with; throw in my two heathens beautiful little girls and you have quite the breeding ground for the testing of Motherly Patience.

We usually use the handicapped stall because I insist that we all use the same one. Once, I let KJ go into a stall by herself and had to crawl under the door to get her out. Granted it was in an office building and fairly clean but the horror of that incident has left me with the heeby geebes. I anticipate that she will be 27 before I let her go in alone again. I herd them in and then listen to the argument about who is going first. It’s usually Miss Walnut Bladder, especially if she is doing the Pee-pee dance. She then stands in front of the toilet, waiting for me to pull her pants down. This is the child whose favorite thing to say is “Me Do It!” but for some reason when we are crammed in a stall, she can’t. Well, it is hard to get your pants down over those fast moving legs doing the complicated steps of her dance. Then it’s KJ’s turn. She always manages to drag her skirt (because she is almost always wearing a skirt) on the floor. While we wait for her, TG tries to look under the walls to see what is going on next door. By this time, my teeth are starting to grind together as she touches the floor which, according to people who study such things, is the dirtiest, most germ filled place in the restroom. If we are lucky enough to have company in the next stall, we get the loudly spoken questions about what she is doing. “Who is that? What is he doing? Oh! (giggle) Going pee!” I am loudly saying to never mind what that person is doing, it’s not polite to look under the wall and to please, get off the floor! I hope my stressed out voice is drowning out her comments. Then, lucky me, it’s my turn. By this time everyone else seems anxious to leave the confines of the stall and are actively trying to get the door open. “Don’t mess with the door….Don’t MESS with the DOOR!” I have a thing about exposing myself to the world. Then there is the trauma of flushing. It’s noisy and it’s been decided that it is unbearable. So I have to let them out before I flush so that they will be farther from the offending noise.

If, for some reason, we crowd into a “normal” sized stall it is much more thrilling. It’s almost like a clown car. Who are these “normal” sized people that can easily get into them? We crowd in and then have to orchestrate where everyone stands so we can get the door closed. Once one is done then we have to reshuffle. And getting out is an exercise in itself. They always seem to be in a hurry and not waiting to get everyone into a good position. One is getting squished behind the door while the other is getting stuck between the door and the toilet paper holder. I am pushed up against the toilet by the door, trying to help out.

Once we are free of the confines of the stall. Deep breath. We “get” to wash our hands. This is another test of patience as faucets get turned on and soap is reached for. Ever notice how high up the soap dispensers are? Of course not because you are an adult. They are always too high for kids but kids are the independent ones who insist on “doing it myself!” The things to push to get the soap out are also pretty stiff and hard for a kid to do one handed. I once had wet hands when I lifted TG up to get her soap and her shirt got wet. Now, I get to listen to her remind me EVERY TIME to not get her wet. She is such a nag. As I am telling KJ to not touch the faucet and leave the water running her little hand shoots out and pushes down the handle. I hand them towels- the hand blower is too noisy and we don’t like it- and say “don’t touch anything!” as I wash my hands. I look around to see TG playing with a stall door handle and KG touching the walls. We go to leave and before I can get there with a paper towel to open the door, their hands are all over the handle and the door itself. Why did I bother to wash their hands?

By this time, any patience I had in reserves is gone. I am stressed out. The only thing I have left to look forward to is getting to do it all over again in about an hour.

What do you wear when your clothes are picked out by a perky 4 year old who loves pink?

You guessed it. A pale pink button down short sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy boots.

She is exceptionally fond of the black cowboy boots. I don’t think Col. Panic’s feet are as fond of them.

I bet he was the best dressed guy in pink at the office that day. It’s a good thing he is secure in his masculinity.

I’m allergic to it.

Every August I sneeze, get stuffy and watery and miserable over all.

I have a “thing” about taking medication.  I try to avoid it as much as possible.  Just slightly insane that way.  Therefore, I wait until I am truly feeling terrible before I start taking anything.   This year, however, I have taken a more proactive approach.  In July when I first noticed stuffiness and sneezing I started taking a generic allergy medicine.  I have kept it up plus following some allergy advice from my Cousin.  I washed the pillows and have been keeping the sheets washed better.  Overall I have been doing better this year.   I was thinking it was silly to say that as so much of August was left but then I realized it was the 23rd!  Which means we are on the down hill stretch.

I have still had a stuffy nose and a little sneezing but overall it’s been tolerable.

I don’t know if it is the more proactive approach or if something is different this year outside.   But I’ll take it!