Charlyn’s Web

(See note at bottom of post.)

Question: What activities are “outside” activities?

1. Running, jumping, wrestling?
2. Playing with balls?
3. Riding bikes?
4. Playing with dolls quietly?
5. Playing with toy cars, quietly?
6. Drawing?
7. Standing on the porch?

Question: Which of those activities do my children consider “outside” activities?

If you guessed 4-7 you would be correct.

Question: Which of those activities listed do my children consider “inside” activities?

If you guessed 1-3 you would be right on the money. (Except the bikes aren’t allowed in the house)

They have it all backwards. I send them outside because they are running, yelling and wrestling in the house and they go outside to partake in a quiet activitiy.

Outside is not for running in. It’s for quietly playing with your dolls on the porch or sitting in the tree.

Yes, yes indeed. Maybe it’s not them that have it backwards- it might be me and my small brain that just doesn’t grasp the concept that the carpet is much nicer to wrestle on and run on than grass. It’s just that I lack edukaton that I can’t wrap my head around quiet and peaceful outside play in order to not disturb the ecosystem.

I guess I must get past my small perception of things and just throw caution to the wind and allow bikes in the house.

You can find The Col. and me living in the Shop, twitching.

Note: Today, and I didn’t know this until I posted this already, is Talk Like A Pirate Day. So in honor of that I changed the spelling of the title. Arrr Matey!

Alternative title: I Am So Classy.

Not.

I apparently wore the same pair of sandals out in the sun too much this summer.

It looks really classy when I try to act mature and dress up.

Note: For demonstration purposes only. I do know enough (barely) to wear matching shoes.

I was asked a question in the comments on this post and I thought I’d answer it in a blog post since it was going to be a fairly long, drawn out affair. I am good at making short stories long.

The question was:

“I’m curious… when Pixie refuses to wear the clothes she has vowed to wear, do you return them knowing that she will never cave in, or do you hang them in the closet to be “stashed” until you pass them on to someone else? I have often wondered the fate of Pixie’s rejects.”

I don’t take them back usually because it’s been too long before I realize that she has “issues” with it, or I’ve washed it first, or it was bought at a store far, far away in a another galaxy. In the case of the jeans, I had washed them in an attempt to set color and keep them from fading as quickly. I bought two skort outfits at the beginning of the summer that she swore she would wear- she’s worn one once or twice and the other not at all. I hope her sister likes them- which is usually my back up plan. There is also the chance, which does happen- see below story about the jeans, that she will change her mind.

Pixie just gets strange ideas in her head about things. She doesn’t want to wear some shirts because they are too long and cover up the waist band of her pants/skirt. I don’t want her having short shirts and flashing her belly ring to the world. (Just seeing if you are awake.) She finally wore her new jeans on Saturday, which is a long, drawn out story in itself but I am sure you are tired of hearing all the angst, she wanted them rolled up even though they are a great length. I don’t know what it is with her and short things- preparing for the flood that is bound to come, I guess. I refused and she some how managed to get through the day and now declares that she likes her jeans and has worn them everyday since. Heavy, heavy sigh.

Anyway, what should I do with the things she will not wear? One suggestion was to make her buy the clothes with her own money and return on her own what she doesn’t want. She is only 5- would that be a good idea? She tends to be very visual and I know we will have to work with her about “wanting” everything and blowing her money on all things pink. So would putting her on a clothing budget at this age be a good idea? Also, I often go alone to the great Mart here in town and pick things out of season from the sales rack at great discounts- she’d have to be with me on those occasions to help pick and pay for those items. Although, one could argue that even if bought very cheap, if she will not wear it then it’s of no value. There is a beautiful pink polka dot dress hanging in the closet that is just such an example.

What other suggestions do you have? Give her two choices daily of what she can wear instead of letting her pick? I’m open to suggestions.

I am getting tired of the whining and upset about what she is going to wear. I’m also getting sick of seeing her in her favorite outfit.

Even if she is pretty cute.

You know that you are getting old when the Oldies Station starts playing songs you loved when you were in High School….or after.

*****

Pixie said “I’ll be 14 when I grow up!”

Ah, I guess from the perspective of five- 14 sounds pretty old.

Well, I’m only 16- is that middle age?

I am allergic to August. (The month, not anyone who happens to be named that as far as I know)

I thought I was doing well this year. Whatever seems to bother me in August wasn’t causing me too much trouble. I thought I was doing the right things this year to hold off the worst of the symptoms.

Yeah. I do tend to get delusional, don’t I?

August came late this year.

No, I am not crying about it- it’s just my eye watering.

Excuse me, I sneezed.

Sigh. Let me know when September gets here.

Whoosh! Where does the time go?

(Warning: This photo has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the subject matter of this post. To view larger, click- at your own risk- on image.)

• My children get very excited when they get new underwear. They need to get out more, the children- not their underwear.
• Boxers are, apparently, a sign of manhood.
• We bought Pixie new jeans, even though I swore I was not going to buy her any new clothes. She was all ready for a flood so I caved. She tried them on, liked them, said she’d wear them, yada, yada, yada.
• She is refusing to wear them.
• Pixie comes alive while shopping and trying on clothes…. as long as they are for her.
• I canned 27 pints of tomatoes. My first time canning tomatoes- all of them sealed.
• I canned 14 quarts of peaches Sunday afternoon between church services.
• The pears are ripening while they wait their turn in the canner.
• We went to a parade on Saturday but we got there too late to get a spot on the curb which means the kids didn’t get hardly any candy. (The rules of the parade are that the candy cannot be thrown so only the people right on the curb get any.) The kids were disappointed. I tried to tell them it was fun to just watch the parade and not get candy. Yeah, I know, they didn’t believe me either.
• Sunday we joined other churches in a service at the park. We were about the last to leave- even the clean up crew was gone. Hey, there were people to talk to- who are slower to leave than us.
• We went back to town for evening church because there was a special singer there. Very nice.
• This weekend just flew by!
• I think we are all caught up now.

I know that many of you thought this was a nice, clean, wholesome site, but my next item may call our family friendliness into question.

After a recent grueling day at the office, I was mentally exhausted, nursing a headache, and “hearing” unpleasant things from some rather tight muscles in my shoulders. My family and I had just enjoyed a delightful meal prepared by a particularly lovely and capable chef, who just coincidently happens to be the official webmistress of this web site.

Before pushing back from the table, KJ generously offered to rub my aching back. I thought this sounded like a splendid idea, and proceeded to remove my shirt and stretch my tired carcass out on the floor, belly down, eager to feel the tension oozing away from my body.

Pixie climbed on, and began “rubbing” my back and neck.

Somewhat.

Kinda.

If you use your imagination.

A bit.

Ok, the word “rubbing” might be a stretch. Poking might be more accurate. Actually, she doesn’t do half bad at massaging tired backs sometimes, but this wasn’t one of those times. She was distracted, preoccupied, or perhaps just feeling more like the otter she is.

I felt her arranging a silk ribbon around one of my ears, fluffing it all up “just so.” She paused for a moment, then said something that I really didn’t pay much attention to. I was trying not to fight my body’s desire to lose consciousness, despite the abundance of child noises surrounding me, the ribbon tickling my face, the “rubbing,” and everything else going on. I must say, sometimes I am quite successful in succumbing to a power nap even in the midst of a chaotic environment. So, I wasn’t processing whatever was being said; that might mean that I would have to actually utilize valuable mental resources to distinguish noise and random words from attempts to make genuine conversation.

But there it was again. She repeated herself, and I had no choice but to hear it this time, for the phrase contained my name. She was talking to her brother.

“Papa’s being X-rated!”

Huh? *click!* *whir!* I’m being… what? At this point I verbalized nothing, but my mind was trying to get a handle on what my ears had apparently heard.

I guess the boy wasn’t paying sufficient attention either, for I felt Pix cup her hands on my back, and say, “See? Papa’s being X-rated!”

I’m being what?

“X-rated. So we can see what’s wrong with your shoulder!”

Pause… Ahhh! You’re wanting to see the bones inside my body?

She nods and smiles.

I smile back. I had no idea how pornographic our family massage parlor really was.

My baby is four. The last of the babies. She still says some pretty cute things- I know this too will pass. Here’s a few:

We saw a Chinook Helicopter flying around on the way to church Sunday. Sunshine saw it and got excited.

“We saw one of those at the, uh, uh, uh….”

“Airport?” her Papa offered helpfully.

“No! At the uh… uh….”

“Air show?” Asked in confusion because where else but the airport would the air show be held?

“Yeah! The air show! That’s where we saw the Chimook.”

***************

The kids have started the annoying game of copying each other- repeating back what the first one says. This, of course, causes great annoyance in the copyee. (I know, it’s not a word.) It’ll go something like this (and I am highly condensing- be thankful):

“I like it!” says Sunshine

“I like it!” repeats Pixie.

“Stop it!” says Sunshine with increasing shrillness.

“Stop it!” parrots the Otter.

“I said stop coughing me!” shrieks the four year old.

**************

She’s also a bat sleeper.

We were out driving around when the CD with songs from Vacation Bible School came on. The kids, especially the girls, really like it. TG kept murmuring something about the “Ashes” song. She asks me to turn up the music and then starts hemming and hawing and saying “Mom!”. So I turn the music down to actually hear her and then she doesn’t really have anything to say. It can be frustrating. But I did hear something about the ashes song again. I didn’t know what she was talking about.

We reached one of our stops and I waited to get out so we could finish up a song. She kept talking through it that she wanted to hear the rest of the song.

Gosh! If you’d be quiet then you’d hear the rest of the song! See me twitch?

So we get our errand done and start off again. One song has a chorus that goes something like this: “My actions meet my passion for what My God has done!” Then I heard that word again- ashes. Oh!

“My ashes meet my Passion!”

That puts a whole new spin on those lyrics.