6:29 am

If I don't get up at 6:29am....   my day goes to crap.

It's taken me from the start of school in September until now to really have that sink in.  And more than one time where I decided to lie in bed PAST 6:29.  

6:29 is my 3rd alarm.  

3 alarms, different tunes, some with Smart Alarm, which plays soft (but still terribly annoying) music that gets louder slowly over 3 minutes and then the alarm, some with Snooze.  They start before 6am and the last one goes off at 6:29.  

I actually do get out of bed.  Like a Zombie and most grudgingly.  But I do.  

And then, I do things for EVERYONE ELSE for the next 2.5 hours.  And then, only then, can I regroup and think about a shower, or actual clothing for the day.  Or maybe breakfast.  Another cup of coffee.  

Then the day goes by and I eventually go to bed, somewhere between 9pm and 1am.  And I dread 6:29.  

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Other Recent Highlights:

RJ sleeping at the wheel at Wegman's Market

Still trying not to sleep

My super-scary (and yummy) Pumpkin Cream Cheese Muffins.  They're stabbingly delicious! 

Last Tuesday the downstairs got cleaned, fully and completely.  Ceiling fan blades, dusting, mopping, behind the couches, all of it.  I took pictures because it only looked like this for about 30 seconds. But it was wonderful. 

Chase got two stubborn baby teeth pulled so the new ones could come in straight.  Ice cream for lunch?  No problem, Mom! 

Indy went to the school dance with a BOY.  She got FLOWERS.  Oooh la la! 

This Zombie Princess performed with her baton twirling team in a local Halloween Parade. 

Riley drew a picture, Mommy and Riley.  

Highlights of Yesterday

The morning was crazy, a little more than usual as we had to get out the door directly after the bus stop to get Roger to a doctor appt (more on that later, when I feel like tackling that subject).  The lovely Miss Rachel from next door was taking Ry to school and Captain Insano was coming with us.  Not that she couldn't handle him while taking Ry to school, but I know it's already a challenge for me to keep him in my arms while getting rammed, kicked and head-butted doing drop-off so I didn't want to put anyone else through that.  

We had an adventure.  Since the car (truck, really) has so big of a gas tank, when it says "50 miles to empty" what it really means is "50 miles IF you can get the gas to suck up the line from the very, very long and extended bottom of this gas tank."  We planned to gas up on the way, but a particularly steep hill on the way said, "Nope.  Stop here.  Stay a while." 

 I'll give you a sampling of this particular adventure:

      - Me:  "Expletive.  Expletive. Expletive."  

      - Him:  "Just shut up."  He says it nicely, he's not rude.  He's just concentrating.  And cranking the key, listening.

      - Me:  "Expletive!"  "I'll call the doctor and tell them you're not coming."

      - Him:  "Put the phone down.  Don't call anyone.  And shut up."  

                     Crank.  Crank.  Crank.

      - Me:  "What are yo trying to do?"

      - Him:  "Just shut up."

      - Me:  "But...."

     - Him:  "Shut up."  "I'm getting the air out of the lines."

This went on for a minute or two more, and low and behold, Roger gets it started. 

I shut up.  We slowly go through an intersection (on my gosh what if we get stuck here), down on onramp (oh my gosh now we are on the highway, with bridges and no shoulder)....

   - Him:  "Boy, it would really suck to get stuck here, huh?"

    I growl at him.  

We approach a hill, I pray, we go up the hill, make a turn and get into a gas station.  Holy heck, we made it.  

I swear he just runs on blind faith sometimes.  

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After the appt:

RJ and I went to visit a friend who just had a baby.  When I held said baby, RJ looked like this:

He just plain old FLIPPED.  Made noises that I've never heard before.  Sounded like someone had stuck him in boiling water. 

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Later in the afternoon in the office:

     - Riley:  "Mom. Mom.  Excuse me, Mom"
     - Me:  "Hold on onnnnnneee second, Ry.  Just let me finish this up."
     - Riley:  "But Mom.  Mom.  I need to tell you something."
     - Me:  "Ok, hon.  I'm almost done."
     - Riley:  "Mom!  Mom!"
     - Me:  "What Riley?!?"  in an exasperated voice
     - Riley:  "RJ is standing on the other desk, Mom."  

And he was.  Good grief!!! 

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So RJ, or Captain Insano, has become a mountain goat again.  Except this time he's bigger, taller and stronger and can now climb on.... everything.  For the past few days, all I do is pull him off of high places.  I usually don't get to capture any pics as its too precarious for that, but I did manage to snap a few of the less-dangerous shenanigans....

This was of course after he had climbed down...

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Skip to dinnertime, beef stir-fry with onions and peppers over white rice.  Roasted broccoli and cauliflower on the side.  Everyone loves the roasted veggies, usually.  Today Riley picks around them and claims she doesn't like them.  Roger says she has to eat the broccoli or she's going to bed.  Then he leaves, leaving me to follow through with that since its already been said.  

We sit for a while, she doesn't eat.  I tell her again she needs to eat the 3 pieces of broccoli or go to bed.  

She hops down from her seat and says, "Ok, Mom.  Put me to bed."  

She walks upstairs, goes potty, brushes her teeth (I didn't interrupt to help since she was being so independent) and lies down in bed.  

I said, "You're really going to bed at 6 o'clock just so you don't have to eat 3 pieces of broccoli?"

"Yes, Mom, I am."

"Ok, good night."

She didn't ask for a book or anything else.  I went up to fold laundry but turned on the monitor to spy on her.  She read to herself for 15 minutes, then I heard her music come on that she goes to sleep to sometimes.  

15 minutes later, she was asleep.

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And that's when I turned around and realized that the baby just shit in the bathtub.  

It doesn't get more fun than that.   

An Irish Poem From Myself to Myself

Alright, fine, the poem is NOT Irish and neither am I.  But they always seem (at least on the internet) to be the ones that start with, "May you, May they, May it... May something... "

So here goes:

Dear Niki,

May your home be loud and rowdy,

May your floors shine bright with dirt

May your children always be happy

And please may they rarely be hurt

May your crafting cover every surface

With glue and paper and stuff

You wanted it to look clean?

Too bad, oh well, that's tough

May your garden overflow with weeds

At least SOMETHING's growing right

May your kitchen smell fresh and clean...

But only if you cleaned all night! 

May angry siblings scream and shout

May crying loudly fill the air

Until you yell, "Just work it out!"

And children scatter everywhere

May your husband just once remember

Dirty boots go by the door

Or else may you enjoy the mud

That collects all over your floor

May little babes exhaust you

Until you're no longer feeling fresh

Oh wait, that's something else entirely

Showers are every 3rd day at best

May you learn to look beyond the mess

And know that childrens' happiness comes

Not from perfect-looking homes

But from chaos, fun and crumbs

May you play with your kids on the floor for hours

May you laugh with them, tickle and scream

'Cause there'll be time-a-plenty in 18 years

When your house can be quiet and clean!

From, 

Niki

Chugging Along

I know how that Little Engine feels.  Trying hard to get somewhere, huffing and puffing, just repeating, "I think I can! I think I can!" 

I'm not complaining, trust me.  

Just reflecting.

Things are good.  

But there is no way, I mean NO way, I will ever get done what I'd like to get done in a day.

I could.  

If I really wanted to, I could put the TV on all day and trap my kids in the living room and yell at them to stay there and find something to do and go play and leave me alone. 

I know people who do this.  And their houses are cleaner than mine.  (Their kids, of course, run rampant and display all kinds of rude behaviors.)

But that's not me.  

And so I don't.

And so the list remains.  

Along with dusty corners and scattered toys and the empty clean food containers that RJ throws all over the place and socks that never got folded (and probably didn't have a match anyway) and Nerf gun darts that he (thankfully) no longer tries to eat and kid cups that we can't seem to find when we're heading out the door and a single lonely towel that really shouldn't be downstairs but is deemed entirely necessary for when the baby is so messy that he gets stripped down and placed directly in the sink so that I don't have that oh shit moment with no towel and a wet naked baby who can and WILL climb out of the sink if I even step away for a split second.  

And shoes.  

I painted cute little chalkboard paint rectangles above each foyer hook on Roger's handmade storage unit that he made just as I asked for and assigned each of us a hook, to improve from the look we've had for the last 2 years:  the "how much can this thing hold before it falls off the wall" look.  

I told everyone that the hook can have ONE jacket or sweatshirt and a schoolbag and a lunchbag.  I told everyone that the baskets below can have TWO pairs of shoes for each person, the rest should be in your closet in your room.  

The hooks look good still, the baskets have about 47 pairs of shoes so obviously no one read the memo.... well, I take that back.... I think 38 of those pairs are mine.  But who really wants to walk up the stairs 12 times to get all those shoes up?  Ack.  

So yes.

Things are good.  

Roger scored me a second washer and dryer, which I'm loving.  I still don't love laundry, but at least I can shorten the time and then hopefully muster up enough motivation to fold it all.  

The family that was displaced by the fire is out of hotels and in a rental house that is close by.  There are fundraisers going on several times a week and we are close to getting started on the clean up.  

Have I mentioned that now that Chase is a middle-schooler, that my status has changed as well?  I am now, officially, Uncool.  There's not much more to say, I'm just Uncool.  

I do feel some justification of all the "extra" educational stuff we focus on in this house, and the canceling of cable and the limiting of screen time and the basic environment we try to provide for our kids... Chase scored in the Advanced category in all subjects on last year's PSSA's, is pulling all A's at mid-marking period and already scored Proficient in 5th grade material in a test they give in the first few weeks to see where students' levels are at.  Indy placed in the highest reading group again and scored well on her other placement tests that are not so in-depth as the higher grades.  They are both proud of their achievements and the words even came out of THEIR mouths... "I guess doing the spelling and math in the summer wasn't so bad and it helped a lot Mom!"  

Picture Updates

Stovetop S'Mores. 

Chase went paintballing for the 1st time now that he is 10.  Everything was great and fun.... 

.....Until he got hit... in the face and then the back of the head.  

He cried.  He got over it.  He's planning the next time. 

The dishwasher runs twice a day for 45 minutes.  I wish I was the dishwasher, cuz I haven't had time to run in weeks... 

That is RJ, who removed the air vent and climbed inside at Aunt Jenna's house.  

This is RJ helping me with the dishes.  Climb, pull, push, grab.

My new awesome accidental creation - wholewheat English muffin, toasted and topped with sliced avocado, sliced tomatoes from the garden, Swiss cheese, melted under the broiler for 30 seconds and finished with pinched Oregano (garden) and sesame seeds. 

So. Delicious.