First, let me link to this - because it sums up a lot of what we've found with our chickens. That and I'm plugging the blog because I love her stuff and the way she spends time with her kids. This also sums up the life I miss from our homeschooling days.

http://havingfunathomeblog.blogspot.com/2011/05/they-grow-up-so-fastan-update-on.html

So peruse the blog as you have time and keep it in mind for spending time with little people.

Today, we are taking things easier than I planned. I had Brian all geared up to help me attack the rest of TBC, but I woke up in a mellow mood (enough sleep and a lie in on a Saturday with one's husband make for mellow vibes). I woke up first (as usual) but having said that it was after 9. The kids stayed up after we went to bed last night and watched movies. B'cup went to bed with me and Ash was out about 30 seconds before. I'd expect them to be first up. Ash had wandered into our room around dawn saying he was having "weird" dreams. This is a massive step up from his night terrors of days gone by. Following the usual routine of either finding a space that doesn't push me out of bed or creating a space in the same room - he then made himself a pallet on the floor and started snoring.

The other 2 stayed up until only they know when watching movies together. They've really bonded over this whole going to camp together thing. They remind me more of when they were both younger and coping with being the oldest together when the other 2 were born. Suddenly, the two of them who had been squabbling all year against everything the other did are now falling asleep talking late into the night about how camp works and what they'll do and what the flight will be like.

When I crawled out of bed Buttercup was missing so I figured she was up, with her breakfast (she forages or has Celia make her something on the weekend days I don't wake up first) and will have found something to do. However, she wasn't at the table, or in the bathrooms. My camera is missing or I'd show you how I found her. She had come out and found the other 2 sound asleep on a mass of blankets they'd dragged from their rooms and she curled up between them and went back to sleep herself. They all stayed like that for another hour or so. Some days I like to let them wake when they wake - despite civilized schedules. As growing children I like to know - for sure - that they are getting enough sleep.

So the day didn't seem to have the urgency behind it that it had yesterday. Yesterday when I thought "I'm so close to finishing TBC - I'm so close!" It felt like an actual magnet, mental-struggle of a pull. Today, it seemed like the essential lazy Saturday - and who doesn't need and or deserve that from time to time.

I realized I'm a bit of a slave driver though because as and when they'd woken and eaten, each of them asked repeatedly what the chores were for today. "I don't care" I'd say. "Go to the park", "go pick cherries", "eh, whatever". This led to them all sitting and staring at me, in turn. They'd hover on the couch next to me and say "but what do you want me to do now?"

Eventually, Ash became overheated picking cherries, so I put him and B'cup in a cool bath (our new favorite thing with the endless sun and our swamp cooler under-performing). Then, it was time for the baseball party.

Ash had been waiting since his last game got canceled for his baseball party. He was so excited, and he was excited to the point he was worried he'd miss the party, or it would not happen for some reason. To aggravate the issue it was pushed back a full week for some reason (I knew, but forgot since it wasn't important to me what day it came).

At some point Ash became interested in Leif's game ball. Ash internalizes a lot so often it is hard to know exactly what he likes and exactly what he's thinking. What he was thinking wasn't fame and glory (like the kind that makes you MVP for a game so you get a game ball) what he was thinking was Leif had a tangible souvenir of his season as a baseball player.
Ash had spent a lot of time with these little 4-6 year olds and he decided they were his friends and he had nothing to remember them by. That's when he found the ball that we'd found lying in an abandoned field in the toy box. He began carrying it around for days and by himself started making a post-it note of the players on his team. I didn't know what he was about at first and I felt sort of sorry and sad for him when I realized what he wanted. I wasn't sure the kids would come to the party, or if the party would indeed stay scheduled. I felt intrigued that Ash felt moved enough to care about remembering his little friends over the course of his life. I told him to hang on to the ball and we'd take it to the party. This became an issue because I chose my words badly. What I meant was don't lose the ball - what he heard was -don't let go of the ball. So he carried it about and slept with it. This worried me because I was worried that he'd lose the ball surely by carrying it everywhere. Finally, I took it away from him, putting it up and assuring him we'd remember it today.

When we arrived at the field the coach gave a great speech about how valuable each child there was, and each child as a player. He said they needed to have fun and stop to actually enjoy the game rather than care about the game itself. Coach said a lot of things that made the kids look like they were really listening. Then, he gave Ash a sharpie and Ash followed all his teammates around until he had every last signature. This was another interesting development. Because they don't do game balls in T-ball, the other kids had no idea what was going on, or why they were signing the ball. They all agreed, in a confused way, and signed their names in huge sharpie - 4 year old writing. Then, Ash intently insisted he needed his manager and both coach signatures. The coaches seemed amused and pleased as they signed his game ball. Then, we put the name, team name and the date on and promised him tomorrow we'll go buy him a case and the game ball will go up someplace in the wall of fame.

Then, the coach called each child up, in a random order and gave each child a little talk as to what made them a special person and player and presented them with a trophy that had their name and date. We read the trophy to Queak and he just soaked it in, it had his name, on a plaque - his name, engraved. That turned out to be the biggest deal of all.

We stayed for the kids v parents game and everyone acted relaxed and happy. People asked who was joining fall ball and who was not coming back. Eventually, it was time to go and Queak clutched his little trophy and his little game ball all the way home.

Some days - lots of days - I think to myself, it's the stupid things, the tiny little things, that genuinely make or fill up a life. It's nothing this trophy, and it will probably mean less to him in 30 years than it means to me then. However, it means everything to him right now - tonight. Tonight, our house is all warm vibed and happy for the sake of a $5 trophy and throw away game ball. I like to think I will remember each child from this team.
I always like to think that but years later I know better. My oldest daughter's preschool picture is a mystery to me. I can name 3 of the 20 kids. I remember knowing them. I remember memorizing each personality and caring so much who threw sand at her and who had shared a toy with her. Those things filled those days and so they are still vitally important to me. However, it is throw away information that won't matter at all in another couple years, let alone now. Same for the names on the game ball. How many of them will I remember this time next year, or will Queak remember in 5 years? None, maybe.

That doesn't take it away from me now though. Right now, I care enough that I don't care how throw-away and random these little moments of joy are. I'm not going to pass them up or act callously toward them. They are my "the small things in life." Like hollyhock dolls or chalk drawings on a sidewalk. It might seem sad, or pathetic or even unambitious but that really is all I'm asking for. Just warm vibed, slow moving days and nights when my 6 year old boy falls asleep clutching a ball with other children's signatures on it.
Perfect.

Today, I realized the summer routine is kicking in. Buttercup has grown used to her brothers being home and while when they leave the room she still absent mindedly asks me if it is time to go get the boyses, by and large she's found peace with it all. She's enjoying the affection and attention they lavish on her.

The affection and love and attention is a signal also that they are finally in their summer routine as well. I'm seeing more of the behavior I associate with my children, and being home, and less of the stressed - high strung - school period oriented behavior. They have stopped waiting for the bell to tell them where to go next. They've started waking up when they are rested. They have stopped with the stupid 'verbal viruses' as my husband and I call them. A verbal virus being when one child discovers a sound effect, interesting word, or catch phrase and it spreads like wildfire through the rest of the child population of a school or play group. "cool", "awesome", "lush", etc..

They have stopped trying to out do each other and trying to one up each others school stories. They have settled into waking up to see how much more our seeds have grown, where they let their crayons, or if I've finished shelving the books so they can unshelf them as fast as possible. They are finding their coloring books and craft box.

All in all it is a huge relief now.
That's not to say they aren't still fighting or tetchy or they lose their patience with each other. People get tired, and nerves run dry after the fifteenth time of using someone else's green crayon without permission.
However, I come out to the living room more and more to find them laying cuddling with each other, sharing a book, or so quiet that I'm convinced they've left the house and snuck off to the park.

So - deep breath - knock on wood - bite my tongue - but we have summer as I envisioned it.

Now - for the letdown.

Does anyone remember the thing I wanted most out of this summer? The thing I've fixated on since about November? It was the garden. I wanted my garden. I had intended on building a hoop house but we didn't have the money to front it in the fall and then it was too late. Our winter was hard and windy and frustrating and tiresome. I longed for the plants I'd tried to save. I cried eventually, as they were all eaten away. Some things came back to my delight - others that should have - didn't. Our hibiscus, despite going in the ground in the spring, died totally. We had to dig it out. The artichoke didn't make it, the leek did (until the chickens found it) and so on.
This year I am both getting my hoop house but I am taking my garden back. This has pretty much nothing to do with the realities of social pressures or having the best garden in town. I won't ever. I will never take anything quite that seriously. I can garden but I am not obsessed. The man across the way spends part of every single day in his garden and it is marvelous, but I need to miss days - spend more time with the kids, or fixate less than that. Still I want my little planty plants. They make me happy and I talk to them. My next door neighbor (our favorite) upped his efforts to make his lawn greener than ours. Does he think I care? I planted grass because it is child friendly - and cooler in the summer - and small insect and bio friendly. I didn't plant the grass to start a pissing contest.
The back garden was my want. I wanted to be outside with the kids as much as possible without having to go to a public place. I wanted my hammock back and I wanted to see little lush flowers grow - and more thrillingly - by my own hand.

So does it surprise anyone that we've had the driest year? Or that we've had the windiest spring on record? Or that by now I am truly beginning to think that I did something to piss the universe off and give me incredibly bad garden karma? The Arizona fires - which constantly leave my heart going out to the people who are closer are still strong enough here that I can't be out for long in the smoke. My lungs are compromised and the smoke leaves my chest aching. When it isn't smokey it is about 300 degrees out, or 50mph winds.
Now - and I have a few theories on this - a mystery substance shows up in our yard. Right now, the only working theory is that either aliens came and deposited a mystery substance on our lawn or this is another attack by living with either a)socially anti-social and mean neighbors or b) across from a public park where we get a lot of low level vandalism at night on our property. The mystery substance is black and liquid. With chunks, very like crude oil. It smells of the worst kind of death you can imagine. Celia going out to water the plants comes in retching her guts out. I've seen her help me rebury a dead chicken that a neighborhood dog dug up, wipe up day old blood after the kids have household injuries, and deal with distemper cat sick and diarrhea - freshly ground into carpet (with a sponge - by hand) so this is a real statement when she comes in actually throwing up from the smell. First of all - what the hell is it? We dug under to realize it isn't coming from the ground, it is indeed topical. We tried burning it off and it isn't burning (so much for crude oil). We have been reduced to digging it out, bagging it up, and putting it with the garden waste for collection on Monday.

Which begs the question. I have had 2 days I have been able to get to my garden and we are fast approaching halfway through June. I started the endeavor of trying to reclaim the garden in January. Is this a joke? Grin and bearing it, smiling and trying to be good natured, zen breathing, are all things that can take me only so far. Some part of me is ready to just write the bastard garden off. I'm seriously having a hard time not taking this stuff personally anymore. I know, 90% of it is nature and who can be angry at nature? Until you remember that anger is a capacity of human nature and while I don't indulge in or roll around in self entitled misery I do stop to think that stifling my own nature is probably also not healthy. My nature right now is pissed at nature. I want my garden back (shakes fist at air) and I want it now. My planty plants will die soon if they don't get planted in the ground and out of their little seed pots. I invested my heart in these little suckers and wildfires, wind, sun, drought and mystery alien leavings can just freak the freak off. So there.

See - very yin yang. Childhood peace balanced by forces of nature rants. Whoever said I'm imbalanced?

Today I don't have a lot to say or add or impart. I haven't much lately. Sometimes late at night I come up with entire blog posts but then I fall asleep before I can get out of bed and type them.

Basically, the new routine of summer is still taking hold. I'm sad how long it is taking the kids to adapt to being home when I feel like a moment later they will have to adapt to being at school. It is a mental rock and hard place right now because I've enjoyed having them home enormously, to the point of missing dearly our days of homeschooling. However, I'm satisfied and happy with the school we've elected to attend and I like their school lives too.
Still, as I sort TBC (the big chaos), I come across school work we did together, or home schooling books and materials and I feel sad and wistful all over again. I had hoped maybe we'd do things together over the summer. First I want to get more of a foothold in TBC and I want to let them settle into their summer routine first.

As for TBC and the sort and how it goes, it goes. It has gone really well and I have done a lot, even if my house does currently look like a bomb struck it. My goal is to get to a point where I do not have to lose way every time I stop for five minutes. When I grow tired and sleep, or quit for a day the tide comes rushing in. In the same way a real tide destroys sand castles, TBC tide will rush in and cover every traces of my sorting or control.
I can't quite give in because while I'm happy with little chaos(es) I'm not happy with the way things are right now. I need just a touch more normality and clearance, space and paths even. The more space I create the more I wish we a) had a bigger house and b) had more space. I love seeing the space emerge.

I've been giving even more serious and less impulsive thought to tearing up the carpets. I feel they can't be healthy in this dust ridden place. Plus, they stain easily, cheap renter's carpet and I'm tired of feeling trashy. Plus, I could shore up the ant holes. Plus, I'd worry less about the day to day impracticalities of carpet, like screaming at my children to lean over the table while eating ice cream cones. I hate living like that, I hate caring more about the carpet than I should, I hate mopping up sticky ice cream stains in fabric based anything.

This blog isn't really about the house, but it isn't really about anything, so today it is about the house.

We spent about 11 hours now all told recovering the garden. As I may have mentioned before - before we bought the house the soil was sewn regularly with plant killers, weed and grass. When I placed sod in the back it didn't take. As a matter of fact it took almost moments to die, despite our efforts. This was actually, sort of shallowly, a good reason why we decided on chickens. I was so eager to make things grow I would welcome the chicken fertilizer and the eggs are a total bonus. We realized what we were spending on eggs and realized it would be more than chicken's monthly food by about a four times. Sometimes more since we get more eggs now than we were buying - they are free range and organic.
So when I got the chickens, after the weather heated up enough, I let the chickens have the garden. They dutifully pooped all over the place, a lot. Suddenly, in small places the sod began to come back and after a few days of encouraging by light sprinkling even more is coming back. Therefore, I will continue to sew the ground with chicken poo, water, and now I will re-seed.
In the meantime, we had what surely has been the windiest winter/spring on record. We had record cold as I mentioned toward the beginning of this blog and we have had outrageous winds, day after day.
The wind has put me off a lot. I plant things and they actually blow away, how bizarre is that? I shake my fist at the forces that be that coerce me to carve a living out of a place that was not necessarily meant to be tamed. I often wonder what pushes people to live in further extremes, like Phoenix or the Imperial desert in California.
The wind this winter blew over our sukkah before I took it down, it blew the chicken structures down so badly that things were permanently broken. The wind was cold and and it was bitter and I began avoiding the area. When I went out, like something emerging from hibernation (not a bad analogy given how badly this cold season affected me mentally) I walked into the whitest white trash scrap yard you've ever seen. I wanted to take before pictures by I couldn't stand to look at them myself, let alone put them on here. I mean I love you but you shall never see this side of my life - pathetic as it was.

So our first mission was clearing the scrapyard, even if a lot of it wasn't ours. That was also amazing to me, the trash that had blown in our yard from who only knows where. Things like half a screen door, a dozen dorito and lays bags, coke bottles, mail, newspapers, etc..

Finally, we drew up garden plans to give the chickens more space than we'd originally planned.

When we discussed chickens we had in mind a 15 chicken coop for 9 chickens. We thought that was luxuriant. Then, I felt intense guilt as our chickens were used to have the full run of the joint.
The coop we built is about a 20 chicken coop and my guilt is still raging. So Brian offered a compromise. We never go on the far side of the garden, and while it makes us feel land rich to have the space, we've never used it. So what if he fenced it off, and they had their own garden. The garden being about the same size as our whole entire garden was in England. This is about a fifth of what we have here. Then, we'd put their coop for them to hole up in at night, and we're going to cover the top with shade cloth, so the pigeons don't get in and so that the chickens don't suffer from being in the hottest part of the yard, in New Mexico.

This seems to be a perfect compromise and I can't wait to finish the fencing. Then, Brian decided to string tarp along the bottom to deter small rodents but also to stop the wicked, evil, straw from blowing onto my half of the yard. My only regrets being the chickens can't come sit in our lap when we're on our side of the yard and that they won't be here to help me keep the wood roaches down - of which they have been doing a marvelous job. I figure we'll let them out from time to time when I'm there to mind they don't push their luck.
The last time I let them out one by one they would come over and inspect the seedlings I was planting. Then, they began piling into my lap to get a closer look. After I shooed them off, all of them bum-rushed me and stole the entire pack of seedlings and I had to chase them through the yard to get them back. Therefore, they will only be let into my part of the yard under supervision.

I like the way the chickens put themselves away at dusk. I never anticipated that part of rearing chickens would be so easy, all I have to do is close the door behind them.

The other big push has been on the kitchen, the books, and the clothes.
I am almost too timid to say that the kitchen is 99% done. I'm bordering on satisfied. I have to finish drilling the holes to hang my porcelain mugs and I have to finish ousting the plastic. We agreed to get rid of plastic and coated things. I donated all our t-fal to a women's shelter and also plastics. We'll keep 2 plastic food storage containers until I can afford the start-up of glass storage containers and we'll keep a few plastic cups for traveling fireman (or small children who spill a lot whilst visiting). In the meantime I've decided it is not a huge step in our lives to teach my children how to use glass and the responsibility that goes with. The kids seemed a bit stunned the first night they all got glass but have since adapted and bite-my-tongue/knock-on-wood we have yet to have a break or spill.
So far in the kitchen we have scrubbed and lined the insides and outsides of the cupboards. I'd cleaned them before, but this was in an attempt to recover their original color -whatever that may be. At least until we can afford to replace them. I've taken off a lot of the drawer and handle pulls because not only are they disgustingly coated with grease nothing will get off they cut my fingers constantly with strange sharp edges. Massive design flaw.
We have re-done the kitchen order and drawers and I've re-explained to my family where things go. After so many conversations regarding tools that have handles and tools that don't I had given up for a while.
And I have removed a lot of the extra, spares and just waste. Why do we have 7 can openers and 4 wine keys? Why did we have 70 mugs?
This extra stuff and things I have owned but used like twice (things that sound cool at first but then how often do you need?) all went to the shelter. The cupboards are now not bursting and look almost normal.
My biggest peeve being when I sorted the tea and spices I discovered that the cabinets are too shallow to hold plastic tubs. I put the baking items in a plastic storage tub which will not fit in the cupboard because it is 3 inches too shallow. So all the items were to remain loose. How annoying. I might try another fix yet.

The books so far are just being moved into books I'll never read (shelter), fiction, non-fiction, children and Judaica. The children books will also be categorized into fiction, young reader, activity books and reference library. I can't express how I love seeing the children's library come into place. We moved the table out of the dining room and that room is now going solely to the children. I've put the cedar chest in there and that is the new toy box as the children have requested to not have toys in their room anymore. Toys just take up space, and get them in trouble when they are too tired to clear a path to their bed. The craft boxes will move in soon too.
The kitchen table moved into the living room between the couch and the fireplace. It makes this half of the room smaller but the flow is much better and it puts the table under a light.
The rest of the books will have to wait to be organized (considering dewy, not sure yet) until the rest of TBC is at bay.

The clothes have been hard. It has not been summer enough to put winter clothes away until exactly this week. It has not been clear where Buttercup is in sizes, she fits between a 2 and a 5. She's tall, so anything under 3 or 4 trousers have to go, but she's very very thin, so other things fit longer and 5 dresses fit her.
The clothes I never liked in the first place (many handmedowns) have gone to the shelter. Things I like but haven't had time to focus on have gone to ironing and sewing boxes. We have 3 laundry baskets full of socks to pair and or throw out and or make sock puppets with. In the meantime the system is the kids need socks, they grab a handful from the basket and put on whatever fits. Some of my children like mismatched socks and I'm too old and too long in the game for this to actually care. Whatever, seriously, whatever.
When the cats were ill (I think before I started this blog) they were ill on the clothes, clean or not and it amounted to so much laundry (and disgusting laundry) that words fail me. Catching up on the clothes has not been an easy road. Especially times the number of people living in this house.

This has also encouraged me to purge clothes and towels. Once everything was clean I decided I only needed about 3 changes of sheets for my bed and a couple each for the kids and the hide-a-bed. The rest have gone. It was sad to see some things I'd collected go but it is refreshing to have less laundry and less filling the cupboards.

Back to the garden, my seedlings have almost all sprouted. We got started late this year before my first lot of seedlings were claimed to a few disasters. I was sick one day and no one watered them, half died. They got left out one night when it was warm and half way through the night the weather changed, snowed and they died. That left about 2. Of which the guinea pigs found and that was as they say, that.
The seedlings are late, but I reasoned that a)this summer we build me hoop house, b) we have a long growing season here and c) they sprouted amazingly fast  -- so yay! It really does something good to my soul to see little things bloom. Especially little things I, myself, have planted.

I can hear the chickens crowing their "I want out and you're not paying attention to me" call.

That's about all. That's a lot, but I think it more or less covers why I've been so remiss in regular postings lately.

I might have to break down and admit that I have a seasonal disorder. This winter hit me really hard and I have felt like I've been waking up. Sadly. I was so dejected when the plants all died last fall and we'd not got our hoop house up. I've been so entrenched in the daily schedule. I've been so down that I haven't been able to do anything big on the house because of the weather. I just know I wish this summer will last months longer than scheduled. Though I doubt it will.
Part of me feels like TBC is me holing up for next winter already. Like storing nuts for my nuts moments in the winter. On the other hand, this is all stuff I've wanted to do and I have been held at bay for by one thing or another. I suppose it is subjective.

One of my children just shouted (from their library) "Mommee! We've got a map of the stars! Someone has mapped the stars and we have it! Mommee!!!" see - that's what it's all about.

Years like days are steadfast just as the boss felt it. Dad is jaded ask why dad why? Those were at least 2 typing sentences I remember from when I took typing in college. Yes, I took typing in college - don't ask. Or ask but don't expect an answer. Maybe I wanted to grow up to be a secretary -- ever think of that?

You took typing in college? Then why is your typing still so rubbish?
Ha! I knew you'd ask that question. The fact is that something that happened the better part of 20 years ago means nothing with the better part of 20 years of undisciplined madness in between. So there.

Anyway back at the ranch, as I go through boxes of stuff - yes I'm back to the big chaos, or the big sort, or the sorting of the big chaos ( I really need a term for what I'm doing) I realize that what happened only a moment ago is now years. Years. Years. Wait let me say that again. Years ago. Gah!
I want to ask how that happens, or keeps happening but that's a little like asking how one keeps turning up pregnant. I know the answer I just feel that the real answer is too ephemeral to get a hold of. I blinked, I missed it. Only a moment ago....

Some days I really like my day to day life. I like my moments with the kids, or breakfasts, or dinners, or trips to the park. However, sometimes I wish I'd wake up and see the bigger picture. Or at least have the mental decency to notice years slipping by.
This has slapped me in the face many times in the last few days. As the kids finish another school year. As I have a tendency to compare my youngest child to my oldest child on a daily basis and I'm realizing that my youngest seems to be catching up with my oldest. As I sort boxes, open one that smells of England and realize that life is so far away from me now it is like it never happened. Other than British birth certificates there are days when I feel like I can't prove England existed at all to me.
That's a mental hurdle for me though, because I spent so much of my life there, strew so many skin cells, and felt so completely and solidly trapped umm...permanently there I have a hard time waking up some YEARS later to discover that it is gone. It's not only gone, damnit, it is becoming outdated. It might even have changed by the time I get back. Though this is Britain we're talking about so I don't count on it.

Then, worse moments, like when I open a box that was actually packed in my storage before I left for England. Or most recently I opened a box (where the hell was it hiding all this time) that was packed before I moved to New Mexico the first time. That is now...umm - not good with mental math today...12 years ago? Is that right? Is someone else counting this for me so I can keep track of it? What the hell man? I left for a minute. I left America for England with the intention of spending a year. I left England for New Mexico with the intention of spending a couple months. Is this a joke?

But wait, I was there, conscious even. I remember days if you pin me down and ask me about them. So why is this so distressing? I should be able to say that a couple thousand days does indeed equal that amount of time and this comes as a shock to no one. Well at least not to people who buy calendars or can do math in their heads. Show offs.

I don't know, in answer to your/my question. I don't know, it just does distress me. It distresses me more when I hang out with my older friends who have grown children and think - this is me. The next time I blink this is me. That leads to some kind of mental panic. I want to wake up. Wake up now!
Where the hell is that lottery win, so I can focus on every loving minute of my life? Huh? How am I supposed to just trudge though this cold? Kinda cruel really, it really is.
Pretty sure that that was a sentence fragment but whatever.

I can't stop going through boxes. Some part of me hopes to have them all sorted soon so the past will stop sneaking up on me in a stalking manner. Like a stalking horse, or a kitten in stocking feet. I hope the next 12 or was it 13, years just slows the freak down though. I really am tired of waking up every few years in a Dr. Who bad tardis like fashion. Whoa - and where are we today? 1989 you say? Oh, whoops, got the nine and 8 mixed up. Oh - sorry no, that's 2009, no wait...

So to catch you up, in case you were wondering. The youngest is 3plus. The next is 6 (or 5 as I like to call him), followed by 8 (but wait he was only just 2 and so cute) and the oldest is going to be a sophomore in high school this fall. I remember when she was a baby, and more so I remember when she started school and I was the youngest Mom there. Well, at least I'm not the oldest at my youngest's classes, that'll be the day.
We've had 2 babies in each country in which we've lived in the last 2 decades and that's approaching that for the summing up. Sorry - I know I shouldn't blog when I'm tired. Maybe I'll go through and fix these some day.

I'm sorting through discs right now and putting old pop music on Leif's ipod as he has a love of that music. However, the kids weren't raised on classic television and I ask myself regularly if I've damaged them somehow or dropped the ball in historical accuracy on that count. Maybe if I get a lot of time off over the summer I'll torture them to cultural satisfaction.

I worry about the day they stop climbing in bed with me and saying "Mommee, I had a bad dream" or "Mommee, I just need a cuddle." Someone tell me that won't happen. Or at least when it does I'll be ready.
With any luck I'll get caught up on life and I won't be so sick or shocked the next time I look up and realize 4 years have gone by. As 4 years of life in America is fast approaching. Pretty soon I won't be able to use my "I'm not from around here" excuse any longer for why I'm so utterly clueless on a day to day basis. I'll have to think of a new one.

Anyway - more later, I do and or did, and or will, have other posts I've missed over the last few weeks. I'll catch up soon enough (sensing a theme here)

For no really firm reason I'm offline for the moment. Probably through the end of May. See you in June.