I've been told the baby looks like me.

I don't see it.

Calvin's getting to be such a big boy.

We may not have much breathing room in the house, but hey, we have really comfy grass outside.



I pulled a sleepy Miles from the car a few days ago and set him (on his feet) in the driveway. After moving all the bikes from the van to the garage, I found this.



"Miles"

"Miles"

"Seriously, Miles! Bugs are gonna bite your bum."

Nothin'.



Well, I left him there for almost an hour while I did homework with Tate. It's amazing how well a kid can concentrate on his math when his biggest distraction is snoozing on the lawn, so you can understand my hesitance to wake him.

When I finally got serious about getting him up, he was not my biggest fan.



"No! I like sleeping in the grass!"



So, I left him there, and we all played badminton around him.

Up Up and Away

We don't go to the movies anymore.

Well, we don't take the kids to the movies anymore. It costs $60+ just to get in the door without even getting popcorn. Afterwards, I always think, "I could have gotten two pairs of nice kid's shoes with that."

So, starting last year, we just don't do it.

We wait for it to come out on DVD, buy it, and then we can watch it as many times as we want, order a pizza, make popcorn, and have s'mores for dessert for less than the admission to see it once! Plus, we can pause to go potty, rewind, whatever.

Well, I've been feeling so rotten for the past month that my mothering has really taken a hit. Cereal for dinner, wrinkly clothes, lots of crabbiness, you name it.

I've decided to remedy this with a party.

An "UP" party.

The movie, "UP", comes out in November, I think, so I have plenty of time for this.

We will be making tiny hamburgers with ketch"up", drinking 7-up, getting dressed "up" (in our jammies), and I'm going to buy a few helium balloons for the living room.

Any other ideas for "up"?

My Favorite Bad-Mother habit...

"Hey, Miles. Come smell this baby and see if he's poopy."

I don't know, there's something perversely satisfying in watching his face crumple as he chokes out, "yep."

Oh the difference a day makes...

You know that second when you wake up and you can't quite remember what's going on in life?

That was the best part of yesterday morning.

Two seconds later, I remembered I'm sick. I remembered my kids are sick. I remembered one of my children did something horribly embarrassing and I can never show my face at church again. I remembered I went to bed without cleaning up. I remembered not remembering to get stuff ready for breakfast. I remembered I have an ultrasound at 1:00 and no babysitter because of sick kids.

Nothing terrible. Nothing tragic or devastating. Just enough to make for a really lousy day and not wanting to get out of bed.

The whole morning, I let myself wallow. I whined to my mom, I whined to a few friends, I laid on the couch.

By 1:00, my head had started to clear, Calvin was up from a nap and much nicer, I had the house starting to look a little better, and Jake came home from work to watch the monkeys while I went to the hospital.

The tests all went well, Miles and I made rice trispy treats, I picked up two very happy children from school, and Calvin played in the toyroom without me.

One of the people I'd whined to dropped off this out of the blue:



I scrapped plans for dinner, got out the paper plates, and ordered a pizza for dinner.

Oh, and I got lots of slobbery kisses from this one:



What a great day.

The Art of "Stopping by"

I have a friend named Cynthia.

I love and miss Cynthia.

She lives in Texas, but I still get to talk to her every so often. While I lived in Texas, she became my teacher. I learned cookie making, correct vacuuming, pottery collecting, how to serve someone who doesn't want to be served, how to say no to things I really didn't want to do, and my favorite: the quickly fading art of "stopping by".

You know, "I just stopped by to pick this up/ drop this off/ use your restroom/ kill 10 minutes before my next stop."

Not many people do it here. Maybe they're worried they're imposing. Maybe they think I won't kick them out if I need to. Maybe they like to live in a cave. I've had friends tell me I couldn't come in their house because it was too messy. Seriously. "Stopping by" just isn't done. I haven't figured out why, but I'm trying to bring it into fashion.

The only problem: You can't just stop by. It's an art.

Cynthia is a master. She would come by, unannounced, at any given decent hour, sometimes with no specific purpose. Sometimes it was, "I was just dropping off something down the street at so-and-so's and thought I would see how you are." It was lovely. She didn't care if my house was a mess. If she came and saw me lying on the couch, watching a movie, she'd join me. If I had a purse over my arm and a baby on my hip, she'd help me to the car. If I was cleaning the kitchen, she would grab a broom and sweep while we talked or fold all my towels. If I had company, she would say, "Oh, I just came to get a drink of water." and excuse herself effortlessly. No one was ever uncomfortable.

See, here's the key: She would gather clues. Is this person I'm surprising really busy? Does she need help? Is she on her way out? Does she keep saying, "Well, it was nice of you to stop by" and really wants me to leave?

I knew her well enough to be able to say, "Okay, I gotta really get serious about my afternoon list, but I'll stop by your house later (today, this week, whatever)."

And I would.

I miss stopping by her house.

I miss her stopping by mine.

My good friend, Julie, "stopped by" my house today. I was so excited. She came by to pick up some artwork but ended up staying for a couple of hours. Her boy played with mine and his already play-dating friend, we all had snacks, and I roped Julie into helping me on my project. It was a perfect day to be "stopped in" on, but I know if it had been crazy, I could have told her to scram and she'd be just fine with it.

I hope this means "stopping by" is making a comeback.

Oh, the talents that abound in this family!

Sidewalk Chalk

We never did this when I was a kid. Might have had something to do with sidewalks hot enough to fry an egg on. Thankfully, we are not in Arizona and my kids LOVE making a mess on the front walk.

They even let the little booger play with them.



He loves to hold the chalk, smell the chalk, bang the chalk on the sidewalk...



and taste it when he thinks no one is looking.



You're not fooling me for a second, kid. I see that big blue blob on your lip.



Just don't tell Miles. He kind of freaks out.



I guess he doesn't like his toys pre-tasted.

Fruit Pizza

Oh how we love Fruit Pizza in August!



The fruit on this was absolutely perfect and lovely. Don't ask me what's wrong with Miles. No idea.

New game at our house!

We have a new game at our house. It's called "Who can keep Calvin happy yet confined to a small space while we do something non-baby-proof in another room?"

So far, Tate is the winner.



This game came in especially handy two days ago while I was cleaning an entire spray bottle of Disolve-it off my kitchen floor. Miles had decided to "help clean the floor" while I was upstairs for about 30 seconds.


*********


The kids started school last week.



I can't believe I have a third grader. Tate has been a little "iffy" about starting school. He has quite a few doubts and fears, mostly having to do with bullies. On this day, however, he was excited to see who was in his class.



And Miss Lu has been driving us up the ever-lovin' wall with her countdown-to-school song. She has been counting the hours for a week. I hope her teacher appreciates enthusiasm.



And this little orange-shirted fellow? Well, the only reason he's smiling is because he thinks he's getting dropped off with them.



We've explained 'til we're blue about having to be 5 before starting school, but he insists on telling me, "But Momma, I am 5!"

He has one sad day ahead of him.

Actually, it turned out to not be so bad. Some friends decided to come brighten his day.