Garden Envy

I've been gone for a week. Did you miss me? We had a sun and fun-filled week at the beach, and I promise that a photo-heavy post about our adventures will be coming soon. But until then, enjoy my latest tale from the home front.....

I am a terrible gardener. Really, really terrible. Part of it is that I just don't have a feel for plants. I don't really know how to take care of them, I never manage the perfect water ratio, I don't know when to cut them back to maximize their fullness, and I'm too lazy to learn. Really, my lack of horticultural success can be summed up in two words- I'm lazy.

I don't know if you've ever been to Georgia in the summer time, but I don't recommend it. It's roughly as hot as the surface of the sun, with the added bonus of humidity so thick you feel like you're suffocating the moment you step out the door. And our yard seems to be blessed with a particularly voracious breed of mosquito large enough to carry off small household pets. It's unpleasant. And the only truly sunny, plant-appropriate spot is really inconveniently located at a far, underused corner of the yard. It takes actual effort to get out there and water it, so I don't.

Every year I vow to do better. I plant stuff in the spring with visions of glorious herbs dancing in my brain. Then I water it good for a week or so. Then it gets hot and I slack off. Then it gets hotter and I give up all together, leaving the poor, parched plants to the mercy of elements. A few valient specimens manage to straggle weakly along with only the occasional rainstorm providing a much-needed drink. I feel bad about it, but only when I look at them. And since they're in the aforementioned underused corner, the guilt isn't strong enough to ensure their survival. Like I said- lazy. But yesterday, I went to visit my sister and her lush jungle of herbs, tomatoes and okra inspired me. It was awesome. I was jealous. I coveted her basil. So I decided to give the herb garden one more try.

Now, I'm not stupid. I know that if I plant them in the same place, they will die. So I decided to switch things up. I had some planter boxes filled with good dirt left over from last year's lackluster tomatoes. I hadn't bothered to plant anything in them this year, so I decided to put them to work. I transplated the basil, mint, rosemary and chives that were barely clinging to life. I also added some more basil, dill and a jalapeno pepper plant. And here's where I made the change that might, just might, allow them to survive. Rather than leaving them in the sunny Sahara of the yard, I moved the boxes onto the deck.

It's not as sunny, but I had a basil plant up there that a friend had given me, and it was doing beautifully. Well, until Mason sprayed it with a whole can of Deep Woods Off, it was doing beautifully. (He was trying to keep the bugs off.) Had it not been the victim of pesticide-based murder, it was showing great potential. And it was close enough to the air-conditioned house that I actually watered it, and used it in spaghetti sauce. And if I only have to walk onto the deck to water them and use them, and if they're directly in my line of sight so I can't ignore their pitiful wilting, I might take care of them. So I think the relocated herb garden might just stand a chance. We'll see. If not, I'll probably just have to give up my dreams of fresh herbs and accept my black thumb!

Proud to Be an American

I love, love, love the 4th of July. It's fairly laid back as far as holidays go, but it celebrates some of the best things in life- love of country, fireworks, and barbecue. And I can't help but embrace any holiday where a cookout is required fare! Being good, patriotic Americans, we hosted a cookout of our own. It wasn't anything huge or elaborate, just another family and our favorite bagger from Publix (long story), but it was fun.

The steadily dripping rain killed my plans for a cute outdoor setup. So instead of a cute tablescape under the party tent, we had grownups with cocktails in camp chairs staying dry while the kids had the run of the house and yard.

I don't think anyone minded the lack of a festive table too much. We managed to stuff our faces just fine without it! And it did nothing to diminish the awesomeness of the piece' de resistance- the cake...

It looked like a regular, kind of festive cake, but it had a hidden surprise. When we cut into it, we revealed........

An American flag!!!!!

That's right. Every slice was a flag. How freakin' cool is that?????

After cake, it was getting dark enough for sparklers. We decided to throw caution to the wind and give all the kids sparklers- even the twinados. Hell, if giving three-year-olds flaming sticks isn't good parenting, I don't know what is.

They loved them, and Hays only burned one finger a tiny bit, so I consider that a success. And the older kids managed their sparklers with nary an injury.

Well, there was a near-fatality involving Mason and a rubber monkey. But hey, if you give boys fire, somthing's going to get burned.

Once it got dark enough, it was time for Matt's awesome fireworks display. Okay, so it doesn't exactly rival the one at Lenox mall, but the kids sure were excited.

Everytime Matt would light one, Hays would dance the whole time it was sparking and burning, then Will would clap and scream "Yay!!!!!!!!" when it was done. It was hilarious every single time. As we were watching our kids cheer on the fireworks, I looked at my friend, LeAnne, and said, "This is so much fun!!" And it was. Seriously, it was perfect. It was so small-town Americana, and we talked about how wonderful it is to be able to raise our children like this. If days like this don't make you love America, nothing will. Hooray for tiny towns, good friends, happy, healthy children, fireworks, and flag cakes, and the men and women that keep our wonderful country safe!!

Living In Gangsta's Paradise

My house is in shambles. Not just the messy, stuff everywhere kind of shambles. The literal, falling-down-around-your-ears kind. Okay, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. It's structurally sound (as far as we know) but it's fairly decrepit, and growing more so by the day.

First of all, it's a fairly old house- built in 1969. (Sorry to those readers who were built in '69 or earlier. I'm not calling you old. 40 isn't old for people, just houses.) And it's not a terrible house. It's small, and it's fairly boring architecturally speaking, but it's okay. It was by far the best of the bunch in our meager price range when we were looking to buy our first house four years ago. And we were proud to get it. We were even more proud after we converted the carport into a snazzy addition, slapped on a new roof, and painted everything that would stand still. Then the bottom dropped out of the housing market and we watched all that lovely equity fly right out the window.

But we're (mostly) okay with that. Except when the tax assessment comes. Then we have to decide if we should cry, tear out our hair, or just get really, really drunk. But otherwise we don't worry too much about it. After all, what are you gonna do?? The big things we can deal with- it's the little things that are getting to me.

I currently have two big holes in my kitchen cabinets. They used to be drawers, but they completely fell apart, leaving gaping holes behind. My in-laws were going to replace them and install new doors on all the cabinets as a Christmas gift. But then the oven died, and since eating trumps kitchen appearance, they replaced the oven for us instead. Maybe next year.......

I also have a hole in the bathroom ceiling. Well, it's not really a hole, more just a completely open view to the non-working bathroom fan (and its 40 years of accumulated dust and grime). It went out on us a few weeks ago. Matt tried to fix it, but it's a bigger job than he can manage, so we have to leave that to an electrician. In the meantime, the clip holding the vent cover broke, so now the cover hangs down forlornly, giving us a bird's eye view to the inner workings of the bathroom ventilation system. It's lovely.

All the other appliances are working at the moment (knock wood.) But working doesn't necessarily mean they're functioning properly. Take my washer for example. There's something wrong with lid. It doesn't catch, so after it's done filling with water, it just sits there until you hit the top of it- then it goes into the wash cycle. Mason loves it. He came running in today when I was putting on laundry asking, "Is it time to hit the washer? I want to hit it!!" My sister says it reminds her of that show "The Middle." And while that show is funny, it's not really what we aspire to be.

And yet there's not much we can do about it. We don't have the money for major improvements, and the kids find a new way to destroy something every day. Just this morning, Will decided to make his time-out in his room productive by peeling a huge chunk of paint off the door. And my dog thoughtfully contributed to the science experiment that is the playroom carpet by puking on it not ten minutes ago.

So it's a constant shambles, and getting worse by the day. It makes me nuts, but I'm trying to focus on the bright side. At least we have a house. It keeps us warm in the winter, cool in the summer, and dry in the rain. It shelters my children, and gives them a huge backyard full of mud puddles to play in. And during those five minutes a month that it's actually clean, it's fairly cute (peeled paint and bio hazard playroom carpet notwithstanding). I guess we've achieved the American dream....

I Haven't Fallen Off the Earth, I'm Just Lazy

Why, oh why, is it so very hard for me to blog during the summer? It's not because there's nothing going on. It's actually been a busy, fairly interesting summer so far. Mason turned seven and the world's most awesome ninja-themed birthday party. We had it in the backyard, and I spent a month making props for games, decorations and party favors. It was seriously awesome- he said it was the best birthday he's ever had. It totally deserves a post of its own, but since it's probably won't get one, you'll have to settle for a couple of pictures.

I made the karate kid headbands for all the kids. Oh yeah, they were cool.

He got a real, honest-to-goodness ninja suit for his birthday.

Happy ninja family!!!

In the week after the birthday party was over, the twins spent as much time as possible outside. They love playing in their pool- especially if they can do it naked. Those boys LOVE to be naked. It frequently looks like we're running some sort of preschool nudist colony over here.

While they were finding as many opportunities to strip down as they possibly could, I was busy getting ready for Matt and I to go out of town. We took a kid-free trip for five whole days, not just out of town- out of the country!! Okay, so it wasn't much out of the country, but we did cross the border into Canada. We needed passports and everything!! Matt was attending a business conference in Toronto, so his awesome boss let me tag along. We spent a couple of days at Niagara Falls....

Then we went to Toronto and spent a couple of fun days there. I got to meet up with a friend who took us around the cool parts of town. And I got to hang out and relax while Matt did the boring conference stuff. It was a great trip. And the grandparents survived five whole days with the boys. They took 24 hour rotating shifts, and I left 13 pages of notes detailing anything they could possibly need to know, so they made it through relatively unscathed.

Since then, we've just been trying to survive the ridiculous heat wave. The kids had a week of Bible School. Well, Mason did. The twins struggled through two days before I finally gave up and decided that they just weren't quite ready this year. Maybe next year....

Mason is at cub scout day camp all this week and he's getting to do all sorts of cool stuff. He's become a big fan of archery. He'll probably want a bow and arrow, but I think we all know that it would have disasterous consequences in this household. He'll probably want a BB gun too, but that's not happening either. Around here "You'll shoot your eye out" isn't just a warning, it's a guarantee.

And now, we're just a few weeks away from beach week!!!!! Woohoo, I can't wait. As long as my sister's baby doesn't decide to make an early appearance, it will be a great trip. But I've already told her to make it very clear to him that he'd better stay put until we get back. If he messes up our vacation, I will dislike him forever, no matter how cute he is. So he'd better just keep that in mind......

Oh Summer, How I Loathe Thee

Well, we're two days in to the first week of summer vacation, and I can definitively say, I freakin' hate summer break. I hate it with a fiery fury. Don't get me wrong- I like it in theory. A couple of months to take it easy, sleep in, no homework, no afterschool activities to rush to. In theory, it sounds lovely. In reality, it is not.
Summer around here means twins that have suddenly decided to wake up a full 45 minutes earlier than they normally do. It is 10 minutes later than I have to get up on school mornings, but 10 minutes doesn't count as sleeping in. So we get a very early start to a very long day. There's 10 times more noise, 15 times more fighting, 65 times more whining, and 147 times more mess. I'm not sure how just one extra child at home all day can create so much more chaos, but boy can he. And it's already 97* outside and it's only going to get hotter. That definitely limits our playing outdoors time, and that is not good. Not good at all.
So I hate summer vacation. I know there are mothers out there that love it. I can only assume that they have older children, better children, or they're taking some really good drugs. But as I dragged three hyper kids through the grocery store, two of them roaring like lions at every person we passed, all I could think was, "How much longer until school starts back???"

Hide and Seek

This is the card I got for Mother's Day. From two people!! The two people, in fact, that know me the best in the world. Yup, both my mom and Elizabeth picked it for me, so I'm kind of wondering what it says about my mothering style. Obviously, it celebrates my love of the ironic 50's housewife. I love that stuff as you can tell from my kitchen wall.......

And my refrigerator........ (If you want to actually see the stuff that's on there, just click the picture and it should open full size)

So they definitely hit the nail on the head when it came to my style. But then I start wondering, what does personal style have to say about mothering style? Am I a tired housewife that loves cocktails? Absolutely. Do I sometimes long for a moment's break from the children? Uhhhh, yeah........ Have I fallen into the lows of the mom on another card (once again given to me by Elizabeth) who's telling her preschool age daughter "Monica, darling, mix Mommy another drink".....? Not yet....

But I definitely admit that I have a worn-down-to-the-point-that-I-can't-fight-them-anymore-but-I'm-calling-it-laidback parenting style. I definitely live by the motto "pick your battles." So when it looks like I just don't care, I'm just harnessing my yelling and punishing for the times that they do seriously bad stuff. Because they do a lot of bad stuff. Really. A lot. And I fought them every time, well, I think DFCS might have to step in.

I try to get them on the major points. Don't beat people up (I'd prefer you not beat your brothers up, either, but let's work on keeping our violence contained to the house.) Say please and thank-you, and yes ma'am and yes sir (So that even people that think you're hellions will say, "Well, their poor mother's trying. At least they say please.) And finally, the one we're working on the most- Act decent and half-way human when we're out in public. (For God's sake, I don't really care how you act at home, but don't embarrass us in public. This is a small town and your grandparents live here!)

And after fighting the big fights, I don't have the energy for the little ones. So if they pull the books off the shelves, climb on the table, sneak into the refrigerator and eat an entire pack of sweet peppers (happened this afternoon), I tend to take a light approach. Pretty much anything that won't kill them or cause me great public shame and humiliation is tolerated- at least until it gets too obnoxious or out of hand. And I'm fairly tough to shame and humiliate, so that really sets the bar low.

And even with such low standards, I still spend entire days fussing at them (I told you. Bad stuff. A lot.) So imagine what it would be like if I really ran a tight ship? I'd have to go that whole Captain Von Trapp whistle route. Scary.....

So basically, yeah, I fit into that whole days of yore parenting demographic that loved their kids, took care of their kids, but let them entertain themselves a good bit of the time. I don't think that's a bad thing. Kids need to entertain themselves. And I'm lazy. And there are only so many times in a day that I can read books, or play Little People, or blocks, or kitchen. Hide and seek is starting to sound better and better.......

Mother's Day aka Things We Lost in the Fire

My Mother's day post will come in two parts. First, the one I planned to write:

It's Mother's Day, and I hope you've all taken a moment to tell your mothers how wonderful and special they are. I'm not just going to tell the moms in my life how wonderful they are, I'm going to blog about it, and tell the whole world (or the 10 or so people that will actually read this) how wonderful they are!
Matt and I are lucky. We have awesome moms. The kind of moms that are there for you, no questions asked, through thick and thin. And boy, are we thankful for that. There have been many, many times in our marriage where things have happened that we looked at and went, "Uh oh, what are we going to do?" Appliances have failed, enormous unexpected expenses have arisen, the kind of stuff that keeps you awake at night wondering how on earth you're going to handle it- and Pat has rescued us. More times than I'd like to admit, she has saved the day. But she's not just good for bailing us out of tight spots- she does so much for us. She babysits our boys and gives us much-needed nights out, she's looked after our pets, sponsored home-decorating projects, and given our boys and our family opportunities Matt and I couldn't have managed on our own. We love her, and we are truly grateful from the bottom of our hearts for all that she does.
And then there's my wonderful mom, who is my friend, confidant, therapist, advice guru, wise sage in all areas of etiquette and child raising. I go to my mom with every question, worry, triumph and failure. And so do my sisters. Whatever she did raising us, she must have done it right, because not every mom is completely revered by their grown children. But my mom rarely goes a day without talking to all three of us, usually more than once. And when I've got free time on the weekends, I'm usually spending it with my mom- there's really nobody I'd rather hang out with. Not because I'm that pathetic, but because she's that awesome.
So yeah, when it comes to moms, we are seriously blessed. We really hit the mom jackpot. It sets the bar high for us to follow. If our children love us when they're grown like we love our moms, we will have done something right!


So that's the sweet post I intended to write. But here's the true story of what occured this Mother's Day......

Part II- Things We Lost In the Fire....

Sinner that I am, I don't make it to church that often. But I was going today to help my mom. She had to do fellowship (a fancy church term for setting out the doughnuts and coffee before church) and my dad was going to be out of town. Paige and I didn't want our poor mother to be alone on Mother's Day, so we went to give her a hand. Things were going along swimmingly- the coffee was perking, the doughnuts and mini muffins were nicely arranged on trays- then Mom tried to heat up some water for tea....
It shouldn't have been that hard. There was a kettle sitting on the stove. Mom filled it with water and flipped on the stove burner. I went to set some trays on the table, and returned to the kitchen to smell burning plastic. "What's burning?" I asked, and we all turned to see smoke coming from the kettle and flames licking at the bottom of it. Holy crap, the kettle was on fire. Mom panicked (I won't tell you what she said, but it was definitely not appropriate for the house of the Lord.), yanked the burning kettle off the stove and threw it in the sink. But it was too late. Clouds of acrid white smoke were billowing into the kitchen, and there was a ring of charred, melting plastic smoking on the stove. Turns out, it wasn't a regular kettle. It was an electric one that sat on a hot plate, not on a stove. So the hot burner had melted the rubber bottom and burned the electrical wiring underneath it. Awesome.
It was inevitable that the smoke detectors would go off, and boy did they!! Quite frankly, I was just relieved it didn't trigger the fire sprinklers! The minister and assistant minister rushed in to try to air out the room and stop the shrieking alarms, but they weren't having much luck. Mom refused to come out of the smoky kitchen because she was dying of embarrassment (and trying to scrape burned plastic off the glass-topped stove) About that time, the fire trucks showed up. Yup, that's trucks, not one, but two fire engines, lights blazing, showed up.
Once they determined that an arsonist in a pink dress wasn't trying to burn the whole place down, they shut off the alarms and brought in huge, industrial fans to clear out the smoke. About that time, people started arriving for church, and coming into the kitchen to see what the heck was going on. My poor, mortified mother claimed that she was going to have to leave town. Luckily, everyone found the whole debacle hilarious (especially Paige and me!)
The one remaining concern was the charred plastic-encrusted stove top. We were afraid that thing was a complete loss. Thankfully with a couple of plastic mesh scrubbie things and a LOT of elbow grease, we got it all off.
Once that stove was shining like new money on a bear's behind, my mom could finally start to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. No one was hurt, it was hilarious, and it certainly made for a Mother's Day we'll never forget (nor will any of the church members.) Best part- our town is so small that the police blotter lists any events where emergency vehicles are deployed, so this will be in next week's paper. I just hope they include her name....