Christmas Clowns

Dec7

The best part? Clara and Ivy

Ivy insists she is crossing her eyes- “crossing them up.”

Ivy’s Schedule

Nov18

The evening before Ivy’s day off school she did some serious thinking and planning.

Then she wrote up her schedule and posted it on the fridge.

In the immortal words of Calvin and Hobbes, “The days are just packed.”

Happy 29th Birthday Calvin and Hobbes!

Fire Bricks

Nov16

Replacing the firebricks in the wood stove would have been a much less of a mystery had the replacements come in the proper size or with some sort of helpful hints.

This is my “mystery” picture for photo10 but I’d like it to be clear that I actually found these bricks to be confounding, dirty bastards rather than interesting and mysterious items.

Receiving nothing but a cryptic “map”, with what were eventually determined to be incorrectly sized bricks, the project turned into an entire evening full of…. entertainment.

“Uh-oh.”

Oct20

“Uh-oh.”

It is the phrase I have attempted (with help from Jim & Charles Fay and twenty billion reminders from John) to teach myself. It is the phrase that insistently lets the kids know they are in trouble yet gives me time to think what to do next. It is the phrase that can stop my mouth from uttering ridiculous edicts before my brain has a chance to think about them. It is the phrase that keeps me from saying, “That’s it! You are never getting a glass of water again!” when confronted with a mess purposefully made with a glass of drinking water. It is a good phrase.

But now I have a problem. Jane is beating me to the “Uh-oh.” Now I walk in a room and I don’t even have to scan for issues, I just listen. If I hear “Don’t say ‘Uh-oh’ Mom! Don’t say “Uh-oh’!” I know there is trouble in the making.

Yes, I can hear you laughing from here and you can stop anytime now. Because seriously. Seriously. Does she really think she can get away with all sorts of trouble just by talking fast and looking cute!?! Talk about an attitude guaranteed to make a mothers blood pressure spike!

After all, that’s my line! I get to say “Uh-oh!” I get to use that to pause, and breath, and refrain from issuing crazy threats or giving her to the next delivery man that knocks on the door. I say “Uh-oh.” Don’t be stealing my line Jane- I need it and unless you want to be shipped to Abu Dhabi ala Garfield, you do too!

Furthermore, frantically repeating “Don’t say ‘Uh-oh’ Mom! Don’t say “Uh-oh’!” while continuing to do the offending activity lets me know, not only, that she knows that she shouldn’t be doing whatever it is she’s doing but also that she thinks she can get away with continuing what she’s doing right in front of me if she’s a fast enough talker.

But the really big problem is that Jane is awful cute and listening to her panic as she tries to finish getting into trouble is, admittedly, pretty hilarious.

Which means that it’s true. She can totally get herself out of trouble and keep her mother smiling if she’s a fast enough talker.

I’m so doomed.

That Girl…

Oct7

When it comes to conversations of Clara’s antics, it always seems to end in one or the other of us shaking our heads while saying, “That girl…”

That girl has already accumulated more black eyes than I ever have.

That girl cries over the slightest injustice but doesn’t bat an eye at bloody injuries.

“Hey Mom!” Clara shouts, “Bet you didn’t notice…. THIS!” And she pulls up the leg of her pants and thrusts her foot out to show me the scratch on her ankle complete with blood smeared half way down her foot.

Me: “No, I didn’t!”

Clara: “Yeah! – Can I have a band-aid!”

Me: “Sure.”

Clara: “OK, I’ll get it!”

And off she runs, leaving me shaking my head and thinking “That girl…”

That girl is the best peacemaker in the family.

That girl has ideas and she can entertain herself with anything.

One day after seeing Jane and Clara engaged in overly suspicious activities with their bedroom window, I came running upstairs to kill the fun.

Me: “We don’t throw water out the window! “We don’t throw anything out the window!”

Clara: “How about rocks?”

Me: “What about rocks?”

Clara: “Can I throw them out the window?”

That girl…

That girl is my go-to “finder” of lost objects.

That girl often has to do with why they are lost in the first place.

Clara hands me a pair of poultry shears that she “found” and drops it between our bare toes.

Me: “Wow, that made my toes scared, how about you!?”

Clara giggles: “No, I knew where it was going to land.”

That girl…

That girl climbs trees and jumps out of them.

That girl can climb straight up a rope with just her arms.

That girl loves the beehives.

That girl collects her own duck eggs for breakfast.

That girl is never bored.

Yes, our conversations about Clara always end with one of us shaking our heads with half smile, as we say, “That girl…” with more than just a touch of pride.

Happy fifth birthday Clara!

I’m Jane.

Sep22

Life being life and me being me, my girls often are left to their own devices.

On a particularly busy morning I had been perfecting my imitation of a chicken with it’s head cut off while listening to Jane and Clara happily playing upstairs but hadn’t actually seen them for hours.

Also, life being life and me being me, I forget things.

I forget that Jane, is still of the age where things are taken literally. For instance, her name is Jane. Not Jane Catherine. Not sweetie. Jane.

Eventually, on that crazy morning, Jane and I did cross paths. I was letting Storm into the house and as I shooed the wet dog past her down the steps into the basement Jane looked at Storm and said in her best syrupy sweet voice: “She’s such a good dog!”

And I, proud of my little girl for happily playing and getting along with her sister all morning said: “And how about you? Are you such a good girl?”

Jane looked up, defiance and anger on her face and spat: “No. I’m Jane!”

Then she left me downstairs torn between giggling over yet another instance of Jane’s literalness and worried that I may have just received a clue as to what had been going on upstairs all morning.

Things to Consider Before Entering A Tough Mudder

Sep16

Two weeks ago John completed another Tough Mudder race. He loved it. However, I feel it is my duty, as his wife, to warn any potential Tough Mudders of some of the after effects of the challenge.

Inevitably, it has been one of the reasons we do a lot of laundry…

It was also the entire reason his foot was swollen up black and blue and he couldn’t walk normal for a week (it wasn’t broken he had it checked)…

And most recently, it has turned into the reason Jane refuses to let me cut her hair…

“But, I no wanna mohawk!” she cries,

So, if you are thinking about entering a Tough Mudder, get a bucket ready for those muddy clothes, try to avoid kicking walls and please, for the sake of their vision, trim your kids bangs before the big day!

The Sign

Sep15

(Sometimes I write entire posts and then for no good reason forget to publish them. This was written at the end of August as we were getting ready for the school year to start.)

Our three girls have been sharing two rooms divided up as a “sleeping room” and a “playing room.” It was a great summer arrangement. They read books to each other at bedtime and woke each other up early to play. It was like a perpetual slumber party and there was no way it was going to work when Ivy went back to school.

And so, with school looming, we have executed another big room rearrange to help insure that kids who need to go to bed can fall asleep and kids who don’t need to wake up extra early stay asleep. Of course, this means Ivy has her own room for the time being and she is very proud of it. Many times I have been called upstairs to see her new improvements.

Then I was called up to look at her door.

On the door was a sign informing me that it would now cost a dollar to enter her room. I chuckled, decided to wait and watch how that worked out for her and went to Clara and Jane’s room instead.

Ivy followed me in while gleefully informing me that I’d have to pay her a dollar if I wanted to tuck her in that night. I seriously replied that while I love tucking her in she’d have to settle for me blowing a kiss from the door if the charge was a dollar.

Ivy left.

Moments later she was back, “Now come see mom!”

If you wod like to com in my room you will have't to giv me a dollar quarter

If you wod like to come in my room you will have’t to giv me a ~~doller~~ Quarter

I laughed and went downstairs.

That afternoon John overheard the girls talking, looked at me in incredulity and said, “Is Ivy shaking her sisters down for quarters?!?” I explained the sign on the door and slowly followed as he went up to investigate. As I lurked upstairs I overheard him explaining mortgages, sublets and requesting cuts of the profit.

I giggled and went downstairs.

Soon I was called to look at Ivy’s door yet again:

Please Knock

At which time I happily knocked and was welcomed into the new room for the first time all day.

Relative Weirdness

Sep11

On this mornings drive to school Ivy requested number 14 on the CD. Personally, I would prefer to spend my early mornings in silence but that seemed unduly harsh, even for AM me. So earlier than I’d like to be conscious I listened to My Big Sister and heard all about the boy who didn’t want to wear his sister’s hand me down coat. While normally listening to children’s music inspires visions of smashing things (like colorful CD’s) and includes songs that stick in my head torturing me for the next three years until I accidentally sing it all on my own causing me to believe that I finally have lost it. This, fortunately, was Snacktime! by Barenaked Ladies and contains music less likely than most to drive you insane.

(Skip to number 13 to hear it for yourself.)

As the song finished Ivy giggled while declaring that it was “weird” that the boy didn’t want his sisters coat. Even my AM self knew better than to debate in the relative “weirdness” of imaginary persons. Instead I told her that we were lucky because girls can wear most all the clothes boys can but boys can’t wear all the clothes girls can.

Ivy: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, for instance, boys don’t usually like to wear skirts and dresses.”

Ivy: ” Uncle Jim does.”

Me: “Yeah…