My Valentine

He’s handsome and he does the laundry. I’m a lucky, lucky lady!

Did I Just Say What I Though I Said? VIII

Once again I caught myself uttering one of those phrases that I never would have thought:

A) needed to be said in the first place,

B) that I would need to be the one to say them and

C) that I wouldn’t just be saying them, I’d be yelling them.

Last week my good friend lent me a punching bag. We filled the base with water and then, because it was just a temporary loan and because full of water it was oh-so heavy, we left it in the kitchen.

The whole family was enjoying the novelty of it and it wasn’t very long before Ivy and Clara discovered they could climb up on top of it. Once they were up there it wasn’t very long before I saw Ivy infiltrate the last kid proof place in the house and the words:

“STOP CRAWLING ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE!!!”

came flying out of my mouth.

Jessie, thank you very much for the loan of the punching bag, I think we are ready to bring it back now!

Yet Another Reason I Hate Doing Laundry

Feb11

Six loads of laundry.

Ten socks of Jane’s.

Zero pairs.

A Line Drawn

Feb7

It’s official, the line has been drawn and it’s no proverbial line in the sand this time.

For months we have been fretting about the proposed plans to the highway we live on. Widening lanes, adding paved shoulders, better drainage, wider right of ways, it all sounded fine, until we looked at the plans. The plans that showed our house sitting on it’s own tiny peninsula of land in the right of way. After discussions, tears, e-mails, phone calls, public information meetings, hope, despair, plan changes, and septic system explorations, we were offered the option of moving the right of way line through the house. This option, the option we have chosen, comes with demolition plans, relocation specialists, appraisals, options to move or rebuild, moving reimbursements and more hope for our living location than we’ve had in a long time.

What it does not come with is hope for our house.

And while everyone who has ever lent a hand and helped with one of the many projects and updates we’ve worked on has cheered when they found out that our house will be reduced to a large pile of toothpicks I can’t help but be sad.

It’s true that our home has at times been a nightmare to work on, a hundred years of different owners fixing problems in their own “unique” ways. But the work we have put into the many upgrades that we’ve made- the almost finished projects that are doomed to stay that way – the ideas and plans only half realized of making our home just exactly how we want it – abandoned and unfinished- not for someone else to pick up and carry on – but to turn to rubble…

I find it hard to smile with the rest of them.

I know this is the right decision, I may be teary eyed at the prospective changes but the thought of leaving our house where it is is much worse. Soon we’ll have more meetings and e-mails, phone calls and appraisals, offers, and decisions and we’ll know the direction our lives will be headed. My mind will stop spinning in furious circles and I’ll be able to start to plan for our new home, where ever it may be. The excitement will build and it will be easier to close the door on this one.

But now, right now, as we wait and decide, I feel we have failed to finish what we’ve started and more than a little homeless.

Some Little Rotter

Feb6

Clara tiptoed down the stairs one evening after bedtime and had this very serious conversation with John:

Clara: Dad?

John: Yes?

Clara: There’s somethin’ yellow in my bed – I think it’s pee.

John: Is it wet?

Clara: Yes.

John: Did you pee in your bed?

Clara: No. – I think some little rotter pee’d in my bed.

John sighed and herded Clara back up the stairs while I tried to stifle a serious giggling fit.

Much sooner than expected John returned with is report:

No pee.

Nothing wet.

And it was true, some of the polka-dots printed on her sheets were indeed yellow.

Three Little Rotters

Apparently when the one more hug/glass of water/trip to the bathroom ploy failed to work Clara decided she needed to step up the creativity!

Six Candles On Her Cake

Jan31

Happy Birthday Ivy!

Pig Pen

Jan31

Yesterday I tweeted a picture of my dirty, dirty, dog along with my wishes that the cold snap we are supposed to get hurry itself up and gets here already. I woke this morning to discover that last night’s rain had turned to snow and I hastened to let my, dirty, dirty, dog out of his kennel and sent him out into the snow with happy thoughts of frozen mud and the cleansing power of running through snow.

Sadly, the mud was not frozen…

…and the cleansing power of running through snow was not all it was cracked up to be.

In fact on closer inspection… …I realized it wasn’t just snow flying through the air as he zoomed around the yard.

What do you think, is it too late to change his name to Pig Pen?

Ding…Ding…Ding…Ding…

Jan29

Ding.

My truck has a problem.

Ding.

It dings.

It does not matter if the keys are out of the ignition.

It does not matter if the lights are off.

It doesn’t even matter if the truck is running.

It just…

Ding.

I’m fine with the dent leftover from the deer incident.

Ding.

I’m fine with the spare tire permanently on the truck in all it’s rusty glory.

Ding.

I’m fine with the light that insists that we have low windshield wiper fluid when it’s full.

Ding.

I’m fine with the fact that half the doors don’t automatically lock.

Ding.

The rust – great.

Ding.

The dirt – fantastic.

Ding.

The rattle from the heating vent – music to my ears.

Ding.

Miscellaneous whining engine noises? A slow leaking tire? A great shift that doesn’t line up? It’s all fine.

Ding.

But we have got to fix the –

Ding.

It’s where I…

Ding.

…draw the…

Ding.

…line!

Ding.

Look Out World!

Jan29

I found Jane climbing the stairs with a roll of duck tape and a tube of toothpaste.

Look out world! With fresh breath, the desire to move up and duct tape for any problems that might come her way, this girl will be able to do anything!

*A note for those who worry: No, she wasn’t eating the toothpaste, it was very securely capped. Yes, I checked. No, she can’t get the cap off on her own.*

Rousseau and Other School Lessons

Jan24

Today Ivy came home from school and proudly showed me her latest art work. Fortunately for me, and my rusty art history, Ivy also identified it for me as Henri Rousseau’s The Sleeping Gypsy.

I took that as a good sign that not only has she been paying attention in art class but that it was going to be a good evening. Some days Ivy comes home bubbly and expansive with stories to share about school. But some days, tired days, we hear almost nothing.

The bubbly days are fun. We hear about the school drama, So and So “was this close to getting his B flipped!” and sometimes Ivy even shares what sort of skills they are working on in class.

Happily, Ivy had a great evening and shared all sorts with us about her day. In fact, for the rest of the evening she practiced another skill she learned today.

Ivy practiced while playing with Clara, reading books, eating dinner and getting ready for bed. She didn’t even need any encouragement from me to keep working at it.