The End of One Kind of Crazy Ushers in the Next Kind of Crazy

Have you bought a water bottle lately? It's like the cost of health insurance. It's way more than it used to be. The school girls wanted water bottles for school. I agreed. It was freaking hot in the non-a/c schools the first two weeks of school. So, while at the Target, we looked at water bottles. They are $11 - $16! Seriously? It's no longer cool/eco-religious/mother-earth-considerate to use the disposable plastic bottles of water that came out in the 90's and had us all thinking, "I will NEVER pay money for water in a bottle!" But now we all do. I suppose I'll be eventually using my own grocery bags soon too. I'm dragging my feet on that one for as long as possible. First of all, I don't want to pay for them. Second, I don't want to do something that everyone else is doing just because it's "the thing." And third, I don't want to walk into Winco , get half my shopping done, and realized I left the wad of reusable bags in the trunk of the car. Don't judge me. Yes, it helps the environment, but most days, I have other things crowding my mind and taking my attention. Why should environmental issues make me feel like a sinner? My religion does enough of that for me. *note to self: that is a good bumper sticker idea*

We survived the birthday week! Kate turned 9. For some reason, it seems like she's been around forever, and should be much older than 9. She enjoyed her day of being the boss, and used her authority well. I had a moment of honesty with my sister, Angie, about having two birthday's in a row. She has 2 boys with Sept 10th and 11th birthday's. I have Neal and Kate next to each other. We both agreed that it totally sucks. By the time you've done everything you can to make the days both unique and special and "un-lumped" together, you're exhausted. And sick of birthday food. Just imagine what it would be like if I celebrated my children's birthdays like some moms do. We're pretty low-key over here. No hired clowns, pony rides, or invited friends in this house. I asked Kate if she wanted a friend party this year. She mulled it over, and, in my hopes she would say "no," I encouraged her by saying, "Dad and I will be able to buy you more presents if you don't have a friend party." If that makes me a bad mother, then so does lots of other stuff I do/fail to do.

Neal's parents had to put their dog down last week. He wasn't doing good and was about 12 years old. It was sad. I was trying to explain to Abby that Maxx was dead. I said, "Maxx was very old and very sick. His body stopped working and he is gone now. He died."

A few hours later, we sat at Costco, sharing a burp-breath hot dog that lingered with me all through the day and into my trip to the temple that evening (sorry Sister K. for my hot dog burps. I kept a steady supply of mints going throughout the session). An older couple sat next to us at the Costco table. Abby said "hi" to the lady, then turned to me and said, "I said HI to the old lady!!" Slightly embarrassing, but funny. Abby didn't notice when the couple left. She turned to say something to them, and they were gone. Abby said, "Oh! Did the old lady die? Was she old? Was she sick? Did her body stop workin? Is she gone now? That's so sad!" I had a good laugh.

The other day, Abigail was perusing the pantry for something to eat. She found my malt. I love malt. It is from heaven. She opened it up and asked what it was. I told her it was my malt for my ice cream. She sniffed it and said, "Oooo! It smells like goats. It smells like goat's butts."

A little status update on the pregnancy: I have just over 3 weeks left. My doctor went ahead and scheduled me to be induced on October 20th. My doctor's have never let me go past my due date. After about week 32, my stomach doesn't grow. The rest of me does, but not my uterus. So they monitor and test and worry, and schedule an induction. It's nice to know that I will not be pregnant past the 20th. I look forward to leaving this crazy behind and entering a new version of crazy!

Gravy Train

Kate had her first day of 3rd grade last week. Kate's school rolls out the red carpet, literally, and plays loud music and the teachers line up for high-fives. It makes for a smiley morning. Of course, they pull out the gator costume, Abby's favorite.

Usually it's the other way around - the fun looking, huggable character is the one who gets caught molesting the children. Not in this family.

Abby started pre-school this week. Myself and 5 other ladies decided to stick it to the man and not pay for preschool. We're doing a co-op, which Abby seems to enjoy so far. I'm enjoying it too, although I haven't had the opportunity to teach yet. Perhaps I'll change my tune after I teach a few sessions. I asked the other mother's if it was ok if my lesson plans revolved around teaching them how to dust, sweep, mop, scrub toilets, pull weeds and do other household chores for me.

Her second day was today, and when I picked her up, she was in time-out for mowing down another child. It's becoming somewhat of a problem lately. Little bully.

Little wiggly bully who can't sit still for a first day of school picture.


Even when she's not blurring, she's staring of into the distance.

I'm so glad she's a good sleeper and still takes great naps.

We have a couple of birthday's coming up this week. Actually, just the anniversaries of birthday's. The real birthday is what's freaking me out a little. Just 5 more weeks. . .

Tonight I made bacon, biscuits and gravy for dinner. I love that dinner, and I'm making my favorite fatty foods as much as possible, because I know the diet train is coming soon, and I'll have to get on it again.

Anyway, I use bacon grease for my gravy. Neal got home from work and semi-complained. He would prefer a butter and flour base in his white gravy. We argued about it, and I extolled the virtues of bacon grease and practicality and pioneer virtues (even though I hate cooking bacon. And don't tell me to do it in my oven. Neal cries when I do that). We decided to have a cook-off.

*Neal is a patient, patient, thorough man, and I know him so well that I could just picture the slow, laborious process of him making gravy. Shoot this impatient woman now!*

I proceeded to finish the bacon and biscuits and bacon grease gravy, then watched him to see if he was going to finish anytime soon. It drove me nuts, watching him stir, then add, then stir, then add, then stir, then add. I just wanted to turn up the heat and finish it already. The bacon and biscuits were getting cold, and he hadn't even added the damn salt and pepper yet!

When the time came to eat dinner, we had the two gravies side by side. The kids didn't know who made what. They can be pretty biased. I think they could tell I was on the irritable side tonight, and they probably would have chosen mine, just so as not to disrupt the peace.

They chose Neal's gravy. So did I. It was superior, I admit. Congratulations Neal! Now you can be the gravy man, and I don't have to fry bacon and save the grease in the fridge anymore if I want biscuits and gravy!

Now THAT'S a Forest!

Everything is bigger in the California Redwoods. Including me.


Every grove of trees we saw, my kids kept saying, "Maybe this is the forest that Star Wars Episode 6 was filmed. I wonder where they put the power generator? I wonder what log Princess Lea was hiding under? I wonder if this is where they did the speeder chase scene. I wonder if this is where the Ewoks lived?"

A bunch a nerds, I tell you!



Moving to Oregon has turned my kids into tree huggers.

You really can't appreciate how big these trees are until you're in them. Pictures can't do them any justice at all.


Like I said, everything is bigger.




EVERYTHING.

Closer. . . .

Closer. . . .
Curiosity meets shamelessness. I whispered a little "blue balls" reference to Neal. Kate heard and said, "Yeah! He DOES have blue balls!" Good thing she had no idea what I was talking about.

As my children were admiring the sheer size of everything, Neal may or may not have said "That's what she said." Sarah heard that one. And she knows what it means. Lesson learned, Bishop! Keep your dirty comments to your wife only. I will laugh. The children will have a tiny part of them die.

At the Wild Life Park in Bandon, Oregon. The kids loved it. It was kind of "coast-ish," like run down, not classy, etc. Yet fun because you are right there with the animals. Sarah thought the website explained it best of all when it said, "An unsurpassed touching experience." Another laugh.

Here is Abby, yelling at the goats to "STOP EATING MY SHIRT!" Only she doesn't say "shiRt." She leaves out the R.

And speaking of "shirt" sans the R, just as we were entering the park, a little girl came walking past, crying and covered in monkey poo. I guess the monkey throws poo at people when he gets excited. Check that of the urban legend list. It was so sad, yet I couldn't stop laughing.

Yet another reason to hate monkeys.

It was nice to get away before school started and the baby comes. Just the 5 of us, crammed into a crappy hotel room in Crescent City, CA that didn't have a pool. How did I miss that when I booked the room on Travelocity? That is a HUGE no no. Bad mom.

Speaking of school starting, it started today. Oh, what a lovely day I had with Abby. Lovely, I tell you. Some Moms say they miss their kids when they go back to school. Not me after this grouchy, pregnant summer. Have fun with my kids, teachers!