Pictures from Southern France

Chateau de Longecourt

Jacob is tough to impress

Because livestock is what we came to Europe to see!

Colosseum in Nimes

Pictures from Paris

 At the Eiffel Tower

Arc de Triomphe

Close to the Jardin des Tuileries

Bateaux Mouches

Will Hates Voting

This is actually two posts, but I never posted the first and now it's not.

Living in a House of Illness for Two Weeks

Doesn’t that make you want to come over for dinner?  Ok, I’ll plan on Thursday then.

It started about three weeks ago.  I went in Lizzy’s room to wake her up.  She informed me that she wasn’t going to school because she threw up during the night.  The poor girl stayed home until Friday.  On Saturday Will threw up once.  I thought he was better so I sent him to school on Monday.  I felt bad when his school called and said he had a temperature of 100’.  I picked him up.  On Tuesday, Lizzy’s flute teacher got sick and threw up in the middle of Lizzy’s lesson at our house so I drove her teacher home and picked up the flute teacher’s husband from the train station.  On Wednesday Will went back to school.  But Bri stayed home.  And Jacob stayed home on Thursday.  Friday was a school holiday – which was just as well.

William hates Voting -- Probably Because He’s Unpatriotic

The Tuesday that Will was home because he had a fever on Monday I took him on my errands to get him out of the house.  We first went to the local library (That’s what they say on PBS so that’s what Will says.)  I made Will go upstairs with me first so I could look for a book before we went downstairs to the important Dr. Suess containing part.  I wasted his compliant time looking for a movie to watch and he was impatient during my “look for a book time.”  There was some pinching and yelling.  But since the library does not specifically ban yelling but rather focuses on whispering I figure that it was fine.

Will was in a delightful mood by the time we arrived at the elementary school to vote.  I got my ballot and walked over to the booth to mark it.  I glanced at Will in the next booth who was busily marking up the example ballot directions hanging on the wall of the booth.  (He also may or may not have written his name) I tried to stop him but he really wanted to fill in the empty ovals.  I was a little flustered and finished as quickly as I could.  I had Will in one hand and my ballot in the other and stopped at the desk to have me marked down as having voted.  

Will was completely done by this point and started to pinch me.  I used my modified Karate Kid Wax Off move to block him, paired with a “Quiet Hands” instruction.  Something I’ve frequently done in the past but this time it went horribly wrong!  Probably because I was still looking at the people sitting at the desk.  When I twisted my arm away from Will’s talons and brought my elbow around and down, my hand followed and my thumb hit Will forehead.  Usually that would not be a problem … however, this particular day happened to be one of the approximately 17 days per year that I haven’t ripped off my fingernails thus I had something resembling girl fingernails; and my thumb nailed Will in the forehead.  And there was a little blood and there was some crying and there was some apologizing and there was some more pinching.  And I had just told the people at the desk my name and address.  I slunk out of the elementary school pulling my crying 12 year-old behind me and waited for DCF to appear at my door.

But they never came.  I can only assume that someone recognized the Karate Kid Wax Off move as a purely defensive maneuver.  

Mother Meltdowns

Some studies show that married, childless by choice couples are happiest of all.  Ok, I can see that …  sometimes.  When I called someone (who shall remain nameless because I can’t resist typing up what she said) to complain about my children not doing anything they are suppose to, she commiserated with me.  “I’ve heard that children make you happier.”  I said, “but I don’t buy it.”

She agreed, “I bought that crap five times!”  And 40 minutes later we both felt better.

I came home and told my husband I wasn’t going to make dinner again for two weeks.  “What about Will?”  He asked. 

“Oh, I’ll make dinner for him, you and me.”  I said.  “How long will it be until the kids notice?”  I asked.

We made a bet but I think the bet is moot now because I sprained my knee while doing step ups at the gym on Friday and have been either in bed or on crutches since and I think my kids will attribute the lack of food to my injury rather than a consequence to their mother’s possible meltdown.

Thanksgiving and the Next Day

On Thanksgiving we had thirteen people over for dinner then we played games.  We played Agricola and now my friend Raskell is addicted to it.   “You’re welcome Raskell!”  (Really I’m just excited that someone else wants to play it with me.)  We are so much fun that some of our friends didn’t leave until midnight.  (Not that I blame them of course!  Reason 1:  I’m fantastic, Reason 2: Agricola is fantastic.)

Then Bri and I decided to go shopping Friday morning.  I set my alarm for 7.  I was tired but got up.  Selfishly I love the whole open at midnight thing (not really I think people should be able to spend Thanksgiving day and now the night with their families) because other people can wait in line and go crazy and Bri and I can show up at Target at 7:45am, get everything I want except a $15 handheld mixer thing and have to cashiers ready to ring us up.  Then we went to Old Navy where again the line wasn’t too long and then we went to Kohl’s.  Bri found a wonderful present for me to buy for my husband.  I cannot mention what it was because he reads my blog but it is fantastic and he really wants it (or at least he will once he gets it!).  Bri said she gets to use it while he is travelling.  Then we went to Payless because Bri couldn’t find any shoes at Kohl’s or Target.   I spent a frightening amount of money. Hmmm … oh well.

When we came home everyone else, except William because he was busy watching TV, was cleaning out the garage because a possum had been living there because the cat who sleeps in the garage apparently took out an ad for a roommate.  I explained to the cat that she is not allowed to get roommates, sublet or have loud parties in the garage!  She looked at me and walked away.  I decided to take that as agreement.

Sadly my kids had asked me if they could spend Friday not cleaning and I agreed forgetting that I had already agreed with their father that we would spend the day raking and/or cleaning out the garage.

Sad Face.

So when I got home I started blowing and raking up the five inches of pine needles that covered up my back yard.  We had already filled up 27 leaf bags so we were forced to take the additional 20? bags of pine needles and  dump them in our back, back yard behind our fence.  Hopefully we never decide to use that land for anything because it is 3 feet higher than it was when we moved in and I really really don’t want to bag that many leaves and needles.

I was raking so vigorously that I didn’t notice a blister the size of a grapefruit form on the bottom of the inside of my thumb until it popped.  (FYI: popped blisters sting when you do dishes.)  I mentioned to my husband that I probably have another ten hours of raking to do and he helpfully suggested that I have time next week when our children are in school.  So considerate, my husband.

My back and shoulders are quite sore. 

A couple of people wished me a happy 29th birthday except for one over achiever who chose 27th

But I’ve earned 41 years and I claim them all.  And since I have a 15 year-old I’d rather be significantly older than 29!

I got the loveliest birthday card from Elizabeth.  It said, “First of all don’t open this card.  Second of all you’re the best mom in the world.  Third of all you can open this card.”

I did … and homemade confetti hearts fell out.  And a clue to a scavenger hunt.

My kids think that scavenger hunts are THE. FUNNEST. THING. EVER.  So often I will see them figuring out clues and running around the house.  My scavenger hunt was about fourteen clues long.  And at the end was my gift.

In Elizabeth’s painted wooden treasure box was a paper heart with William’s name on it.  One with Brianne’s, dad’s, Jacob’s, Lizzy’s, a Lizzy heart balloon and a paper “I heart You.”  It also included three chocolates, a sucker, a Hersey’s Kiss, bottle caps (because I know you love them) and a dollar bill.

It is seriously the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.

And Brianne made me a cake.

I walked into the kitchen in the middle of it and was promptly sent out with protestations of ruining surprises and being a stinker and at least you don’t know what flavor it is.  When I smelled burning I opened the oven and saw that Bri had decided to bake me a heart birthday cake.  Adorable.  Unfortunately the heart pan is smaller than a 9x13 inch pan and she had poured all the cake batter into it.  Cake batter had overflowed and was burning on the bottom of the oven.  I put a pan under the cake and shut the oven.

My cake ended up being cake balls.

I stuck a candle in one of them, lit it and let William blow it out.  (Because it is a tradition in our family for William to help everyone blow out their birthday candles because it makes him so happy!)

Our church choir sang Happy Birthday to me.

And Marcy and Cheryl took me out for a birthday lunch.  Yummy!

I blocked the TV

I’ve decided to have a TVless summer because I’m a super good mother who feeds her children 5 servings of vegetables a day and cares deeply about her children’s behavioral repertoire being filled with reruns of Phineas and Ferb on Netflix rather than reading, math drills, etc. because they were watching so much TV and not doing their jobs and homework and it was pissing me off. 

Two days later I realize I need to put a code on Will’s iPad to keep Jacob off it because apparently the very real risk of getting pinched by Will for touching precious (his iPad) is outweighed by Jacob’s media addiction!  And Lizzy agreed with me that she had a problem was watching too much TV.

Apparently I need to sign up my children for a ten step media addiction program!

I am so very, very proud.[i]

---

[i]Why do I feel that I need to withdraw my name for consideration for Mother of the Year?  I really felt I had it in the bag this year … and now this!  It’s really frustrating because I’ve been a mother for 15 years and I still haven’t won.  (I suspect the judges are biased.  Just sayin’.)

Guess what sucks about giving yourself a migraine?

Obviously, not being able to blame anyone else.   Last Friday I double scheduled myself … twice.  On Wednesday Bri told me her teacher didn’t like her thesis.  Since this paper is worth two test scores I suggested she stay after school on Friday to get help.  She did and I forgot I needed to pick her up.  So it was tight picking her up and I was late getting Will off the bus.  Forgetting threw off the rest of my plans because I still needed to go buy food for the scout campout and I didn’t have time to pick up Jake from school.

Then later that evening Lizzy asked me, “mom, do I have flute (pronounced fa-lute) lessons today?”

“Yes, Lizzy you do.  Thanks for reminding me.  We have to leave in 15 minutes.”

“Mom, my piano recital is in 30 minutes.”

“Oh.”

So, I drove Bri to her piano recital and dropped her off.  Will was really upset we left her.  He ran to get her when we left but I explained we’d be back and pick her up later.  Then we dropped Lizzy off at her fa-lute lesson, luckily her teacher let me bring her over late and fed her dinner too.  

Will and I made it back to the recital in time to hear Bri play then I dropped them off at home before I went to get Lizzy.

Predictability

My husband took Jake fishing early this morning.  Yesterday, when I told him to do his Saturday jobs, because he wouldn’t want to do them when he got home at 6:00 today, he complained about going.  Lizzy said, “Jake you can trade places with me I’m going to thtudnwmtb and working.”

“No, I’ll go with dad.”  Jake replied.

Lizzy was serious about trading places but ok with helping me because I’d already told her I’d take her to McDonalds for lunch.

Yes, I bribe Lizzy.  No, I don’t care what you think.  I’m thrilled I found something to motivate her.

Teaching my children the value of work

Is really hard because they may not know how to work, however, their mouths still function and are capable of issuing complaints.  Their brains still work and are capable of conspiring together to create work stoppages.  I tried to explain to the children they do not belong to a union and that their membership in my little slave community is what I like to call “forced” to work.  Unfortunately, they outnumber me, have pouting skills and are really suborn.

I love this – they cost me a lot of money and I don’t even get the equivalent in forced labor from them.  Perhaps I should have thought this through earlier before I had so many.  Oh well, too late now.  I shall in the future revenge myself on them by feeding their children energy drinks and sending them home late at night.

What was I saying about a return on investment?

Ah, that’s right, I was complaining about how each of my children was the equivalent of a money pit.  I said that occasional payback happened when MPI babysat MPIII.  I shall rephrase.   

On Tuesday, I came home from Jake’s tutoring session to find the sink that previously held only one dish, filled, the stove covered with dishes, a messy floor, towels in the garbage … and my bathroom, well, suffice it to say I cleaned and disinfected it.  Keep in mind nothing was cooked while I was gone.  But Will had started making banana cake.

At this point I would like to ask the internet “why does he always start with eggs?”

What was the response of MPI, you wonder?  Oh that would be, “well, I did my homework and practicing.”

The Money Pit

Years ago I watched the movie The Money Pit.  Today I came to realization that that’s my life.  But instead of spending money on my house with the expectation that eventually I’ll have a mansion with lovely furniture and artwork to live in; I spend it on my children.  With only the expectation of payback being that eventually they’ll let me move in with them, wait on me hand and foot and provide grandchildren for my amusement.   Currently, aside from listening to Bri play the piano, William talk, and reading a paper written by Jacob there’s not a lot of return.

That being the case, I’ve decided to rename the children MP I, MP II, MP III and MP IV – the Roman Numerals just make it classier don’t they?  I do have systems in place to benefit from monies already expended.  Examples:  1. Since I have already spent enough money to build a hovel in some part of the world on MPI’s piano lessons, I pay her $5 a lesson to teach her siblings.  2.  MPI and MPII babysit MPIII.  3.  MPIV empties the dishwasher.

However, the costs keep increasing.  MPI talked me into letting her go to Quebec with her French class (mom, it’s educational – sure it is), getting her a cat aka Mini-MPI, and paying for a lot of crap.  MPIII … well, anyone who knows … knows the amount of money spent on him.  MPIII pays me back with the occasional pinch, but also lets me give him butterfly kisses.

That’s it!  They can’t move out until they pay me back!

… Uh, wait. 

Delicious Irony

Will had a birthday party a couple of weeks ago.  He went to one just before that and is invited to two more.  Ahhh, ironically it seems as if Will is the most popular of my children.

Update:

Lizzy was invited to two birthday parties within two weeks.  Will is still ahead but she is breathing down his neck.  Bri forgot to go to a party last night so she has forfeited the competition.  (I haven't reminded her because at this point it doesn't do her any good.)

Update on My Plan for World Domination

I already detailed my plan for world domination here.  Except for chocolate, my plan is falling into place.  However, I fear, I may not have the stomach for it.  I took the kids and their friend Dave skiing on Saturday night.  Lizzy and Bri, with the benefit of four lessons, “flew” down the hill like the little speed demons they are.  I banned them from the jumps after seeing another kid wipeout.  They weren’t happy with me -- but life is tough sometimes.

Jake, who has only had one lesson because he was in a school play (he was a jock in Grease – typecasting you know), practiced on the bunny hill.  Ironically, he mixed up his skis with another kid who had an identical pair and skied better.  I think I better take his skis back to get adjusted.

I ran into a Special Olympic team there and I might hook Will up with them.  Will and Pete on a team, wouldn’t that be fun!  However, if Will on skis is anything like my girls I might have heart failure.  Because they are fearless and like speed!

I should have figured

Bri and Lizzy loved skiing!  Will and I hung out in the lodge.  Will was a pretty good sport even though I refused to buy him more than one serving of French fries.  He watched Wallace and Gromit while I read.  I dragged him out 15 minutes before the kids finished because I wanted to see them.

Lizzy’s skis kept falling off because she’s so little and she couldn’t hang on the rope pull.  I think she tried for 45 minutes to go up the hill before I got there.  She eventually walked up the hill and tried to put on her skis up there.  After ten minutes I walked up the hill to help.  I held Will’s hand and carried my purse and a big bag filled with DVDs, books, and a portable DVD player up the hill while wearing tennis shoes because that’s the kind of thing I do.  I helped Lizzy get her skis on and pointed her in the right direction.  Then Will and I ran down the hill.

Will was interested in the skis.  He tried to put them on his snow boots.  I’m going to ask one of his old therapists to give him a lesson because he might really enjoy it.  His friend Pete skis.  Possible play date?  No, probably not, as neither Marcy nor I ski and it would be too funny to have both of us chasing our sons down the hill.

This will pay off in a couple of years

I know I cooked more than Bri does when I was thirteen, perhaps because I didn’t spend all my time texting or on facebook.  Last week she “taught” Jake how to make chocolate chip cookies.  They were yummy but they made them backwards.  I asked her yesterday if she wanted to learn how to make peach cobbler.  She didn’t.  So, I decided to teach Jake.  He is more interested than Bri is in cooking and is more likely to say yes if I ask him.  He agreed to help even though he doesn’t like cobbler.  Since we were on a roll I taught him how to make spaghetti, too.

 

Bonus:  Jake tried the cobbler and liked it.

Teaching My Children Humility

After swimming backstroke at B Regionals last Saturday, Lizzy ran up to me and very excitedly said, “I beat someone, I wasn’t last!” In many ways that statement sums up the best of my children’s swimming season.

Bri hasn’t had lessons in two years. Jake has had a tumultuous relationship with swimming. He needed 10 group sessions and 9 private lessons to get him to level 3 in swimming. Then he stayed in level three for about four or five sessions. Lizzy was doing ok in swimming until she went to full day kindergarten. At which point she stopped taking lessons.

It’s difficult to take the kids to swimming lessons. Will gets really upset if he sees the pool but doesn’t get to go swimming. For a while I would spend several days mentally gearing up for swimming lessons. I would take the kids to the dressing room. They would head off for their lesson. I’d walk Will outside the building with him screaming the whole way. It was not pleasant. As a result, my children have taken fewer lessons than I would have liked … and it shows.

Will is a better sport now, but still wants to go swimming if the other kids get to. (I know. He’s so unreasonable!) The one time I took him to watch the kids practice; he took off his shirt twice and tried to jump in the pool. At which point we went outside and waited in the car for it to end.

What’s the most surprising thing about swim team? Well, Lizzy and Bri want to do it again.

Swim Team

I signed up Bri, Jake and Lizzy for the town swim team. I thought great, it’s a three-for-one activity. But it’s Monday through Thursday, overlapping, two hour marathon and I can never take Will there because he would do his best to go swimming too. And he’s a big 9 year-old! (I’m basically saying that if he’s truly motivated you should put your money on him.)

So, my husband dropped off Bri at piano and took Will to MyGym. I took the kids to the pool for the 5:30 parent meeting, left to pick up Bri from piano, took Lizzy and Jake part way home, went back to get Bri from swim team and returned home at 9:00.

I’m starting to rethink swim team.

Whose Fault Is It?

Jake and Lizzy were playing outside when I heard Lizzy start to cry, Jake yell something and then Lizzy started running up the stairs to the deck. Jake told me he hit Lizzy with the (foam covered) bat. Taking a deep breath because I figure it could be bad, I check her out. I’m happy to see that there isn’t any blood or even a bruise. (We’ll see how it looks tomorrow.) “Did he hit you on purpose?” I ask her.

“No,” Lizzy sobs.

“It’s not my fault.” Jake says.

“Oh, yes it is.”

Then we say the same thing again.

Jake stops, glares at me and says with anger and hurt, “I can’t believe you think I’d hit her on purpose!”

“I don’t,” I respond. “But it’s your fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Lizzy says. She’s stopped crying and is ready to defend her brother.

I try to explain that even though it was an accident it’s still Jake's fault. They don’t believe me. I ask her if it would be my fault if I walked around a corner and accidentally knocked her down. She has no idea what I’m talking about.

I try again. I turn on the water and put Lizzy’s hand under the water. “Whose fault is it that your hand is wet?” I ask her. She looks at me obviously puzzled. She doesn’t say a word but I can tell that she thinks I’m deranged. And she’s really confused about why she has a wet hand. Then they started laughing at me. Eventually, I give up trying to explain. Five minutes later she asks me why I think it’s Jake’s fault. I said that even though it was an accident he was still responsible.

“Oh.” She says.

School House Rock

I took Lizzy and Jake to Bri’s school musical last night. It was pretty cute. Lizzy and Jake both bought money in the desperate hope that concessions would be available. Both Bri and I told them there would not be, but Jake and Lizzy did not let our knowledgeable pessimism stand in the way of their desire for overpriced candy. There wasn’t any candy for sale but they did have some show tee-shirts. Lizzy decided that she wanted one and spent ten bucks on a tee-shirt that reaches her knees.

Perhaps one of these days I’ll remember to bring her flowers like the other moms. Don’t hold your breath!