hello.
insanity has taken on a whole new meaning here in northeastern Washington. where I got the idea that I could work 40 hours a week for the federal government, 36 hours a week for Stevens County, spend time with 4 children and still maintain contact with my extended family is a mystery to me. that of course excludes grocery shopping, bill paying, job hunting for fall, and the remaining 87 hours a week of sleep that is a great idea when I don't get paged out for a local first response call which happens once or twice a week as well. of course, the 87 hours are really divided between sleep and play, but unfortunately, while die hard unattached singles like Sarah don't mind watching movies at 11 pm it isn't the best time to call family members and catch up on the latest gossip. last week i called in sick for a day, but after the trip i got from my all too knowing crew the next day, this week I had to come up with a more respectable excuse and scheduled a funeral. so today i am home with my kids, who have begun to become strangers, but have loads of interesting (and not-so-interesting) stories to tell. so we're having fun. yesterday was kizzie's birthday and when i got home from work i took her out to dinner and birthday shopping. we had fun. she got a new nightgown, flip flops and a little portable doll house. she was happy. i was broke. all was right in the cosmos once more. the girls all seem to be doing ok except for natalee. you have experienced her will of iron and streak of vengence, but I think the combined factors of mom and dad being gone a lot and she is the only coherent one that isn't in summer school or anything exciting has produced an attitude something akin to the one that I seem to remember flaunting in my youth. she has a facial expression that is hauntingly reminiscent of uncle Ben, which she exhibits quite regularly. it is my sneaking suspicion that grandma donna's disciplinary tactics are ineffectual to say the least as her response to the spanking i just gave her is to sit and wail her need for grandma, whom she has been with incessently for weeks now. it wouldn't be so bad, but david is doing some horse event in spokane and rather than taking time off work to do it he has gone down on weekends and evenings and left Donna with the kids. I realized what was going on and scrambled to clear as much of my schedule as possible and round up fresh babysitting recruits to give donna a break. it was kind of stressful and frustrating for me, but it will work out. i wish i could take nattie to work with me. she needs something different. i talked to emily for a few minutes yesterday morning, the only communication in weeks. i think we'll all be at a kizzie birthday BBQ tonight. Katey's future husband, Gavin, is going to stop by, the kids have taken well to him as an addition to the family, and being a NAU man (David's alma mater), he is golden. I have yet to contact Katey and inform her of her good fortune. maybe I'll do that right now. anyway, I should go read to the wailing 4 year old on the couch.
just wanted to let you know that I am alive, mostly well and getting by. hope all is good there.
Me
Sent: Friday, January 28, 2005 9:53 AM
Subject: hi
I'm having a bad day. I shouldn't be, cause it's Friday and really, things are all pretty good in my life, so I am hoping that it's just PMS. I am sure my religious friends would tell me it's warfare. So my bank account is overdrawn and it's because stupid car insurance didn't change the post date of my automatic payments, and if I want to change it I have to pay double in a month or something, which now I am already doing anyway with stupid overdraft charges. I think I'll sue them. I hate them. I'm gonna cancel the auto pay. It's easier for me to pay all my bills at once on the bank website, right away when I get my check. Then I don't forget about all the weird peripheral stuff.
How's the pattern business? I have a bunch of stuff I need to list, but I just don't know if it's worth the time. Maybe I'll just take it all to R-Anns.
Did Aunt Tracey tell you I am going with them Sunday night to Couer de Alene for the Banff Mountain Film festival. I am really excited, except now I am gonna have to bum some change off Leroy or something to pay for my ticket. I guess they'd probably float me. My tax return should come through any time. That will be nice, because I am gonna put $3500 right off the top on the car, and then order a 3rd row seat which will be safer than the front seat for the kids.
Dr. Shannon put me on topical and oral antibiotics for my breakout... he said if that doesn't solve the problem we'd go hormonal - orthotrycyclin, which I am game for because he said it can actually reduce the risk of female cancers later and it would make my period symptoms less. talk about killing birds with stones. he's also giving me some proton inhibitors for when my stomach flares up to see if it is acid. We're running the full line of STD screens, HIV, clamidia, herpes, etc. Lovely. He said he would recommend all of that to anyone that was uncertain of where their partner had been, and knowing some things, he would definitely recommend it.
I sure wish Em would have her baby with him. He's such a good doctor. In fact, Shawna, the dr. debunker, finally got in to see him (did you know that he's a fibromyalgia specialist???? which she probably has) and she absolutely loved him. she said he was hilarious. usually she sees a new doctor and tells everyone how awful he is if he doesn't give her 37 new prescriptions. Poor Shawna. I am glad and relieved that she liked him.
I have sad music on.That's a bad thing because I am already in the mood for a good cry. I spent most of the morning yelling at kids. I am just crabby today.
well, I gotta go find aspens slippers - her toes are cold.
-me
Sent: Saturday, October 08, 2005 9:30 PM
Subject: check this out
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town,
The lights were all dark ‘cause the power was down.
The Melzers were settled all snug in their bunks,
With cats, dogs and horses, racoons and 1 skunk.
The quiet that crept from the Ram’s peaceful home
Was made up for over yonder in the Carleton zone.
The Gunnells were eating, old Middlesworth snoring,
For all one could tell, the evening was boring.
When out in the dark there started such clamor
That every one checked to see what was the matter.
Paul in his wife beater, Sabrina in two coats,
All of the Creaches and three Cazanevette goats.
Binoculars (infrared), flashlights, a torch
All shone upon Trent, standing there on his porch.
His hat, it was black, his union suit red,
And he looked like a nightmare roused out of his bed.
Underdressed for the weather to his bare size 11
The gun barrel shone in the moonbeam from heaven
He said not a word that could be repeated
But fired ‘til his paintballs were nearly depleted.
The trash was strewn out all across the Smith’s yard
And clear over the road to Kathy Phelps’ car.
The Whitings were spared from the mess by his quickness
A heroical act which everyone witnessed.
As he turned from the scene and went back in the cabin
The Carletons and Warrens called to see what had happened.
Before very long the glow of the dog
Had illuminated the Lisenbee’s street and moved on.
As he passed all the neighbors the translucent light
Of the paintballs shone brightly out there in the night.
And the Christmas that started unusually dark
Was brightened that night with a yelp and a bark.
We heard someone yell as that mongrel passed through:
“Looks like he checked out the Smith’s garbage too!”
27 Oct 2005
All in a Day’s Work
When we got the assignment to find a place to do some volunteer work for a service learning experience in my college success class, I thought: “hey, no sweat.” In truth, however, perspiration was only one of the evidences that my volunteer time had a definite emphasis on the service part of the learning. My regular job is actually a volunteer position. Steven’s County reimburses my gas to town, and if I am lucky, money for the babysitter when I commit to a 12 hour shift in town on the only ambulance that serves a massive rural area. Since I do this regularly, I thought I should tackle something different for a service learning assignment. There is also the volunteer fire department that I work for, completely at my own expense, as a firefighter and medical first responder, but that seemed too easy for me as well. I needed something totally radical to really feel like I had stepped out and helped somewhere, so I volunteered for an afternoon as a teacher’s assistant in my daughter’s kindergarten class. It is now my professional opinion that school volunteer positions, along with requiring the usual background checks and liability waivers, should offer some manner of readiness guide for the hazardous attitudes and toxic bodily substances that may be encountered, along with a mental health disclaimer and resource booklet with counseling services and local spas. Really, if I learned anything, it is that kindergarten teachers are some of the toughest, bravest and most highly underpaid professionals in the world.
I have been a part of volunteer agencies and organizations since I was a young teenager, but the experience of an afternoon with 28 five and six year olds is something I may never recover from, much less forget. It was my job to ride herd on a collection of post lunch, pre nap, pseudo toddlers who were all theoretically potty trained and hypothetically interested in craft time. Maybe they were more interested in playing with scissors and glue than really creating anything, but as they scanned the outdated collection of Better Homes and Gardens to tear out pictures for their collages that represented their favorite things, I was enthralled. From the tough redneck kid in jeans that were more holes than whole who really just like pictures of flowers, to the tiny mouse of a girl who covered her page with every edible thing imaginable, to watch these little humans express themselves in a swirl of dripping Elmer’s and decapitated models from the perfume advertisements was thrilling and hilarious.
The most brilliant and amazing thing to observe, however, was the unending patience of the teacher. After 15 minutes in the classroom I was on the verge of begging for a potty break myself , and I realized that she does this for 8 hours a day - every day! What a woman. Unphased by the nose picking blonde and the gymnast contorted around the legs of his desk, she sweetly wove her way through picture books with complex plots such as “Look What I Can Do,” and the thrilling novelette “The Little Engine that Could.” By three o’clock I was fantasizing about the beer in my refrigerator at home and the merit badge I would be getting from the devastated students when they found out that I wouldn’t be back to make their kindergarten experience an ethereal bonding time – ever again. At the same time I watched Mrs. Plum hug the children (even the nose picker) goodbye and reassure them that she would miss them too, until tomorrow, and maybe then Johnny could pick the story, and that yes, there might be a better volunteer next time…
Sent: Friday, November 11, 2005 5:20 PM
Subject: updates
Today, Halle made apple butter with the apples from our tree. To compensate for this act of productive brilliance, she also taught Aspen how to color her whole body with markers. As punishment, she was banished to the bathtub with said exhibitionist to scrub the multicolored torso and face. Thank heavens Aspen had never been dressed today and we avoided the total catastrophe of a ruined wardrobe. The bathtub is the only casualty so far… MacKenzie made Banana Bread. With chocolate chips of course, as we are not a nutophiliac household. There was no school today, in some cruel and devious plot to steal the sanity of all responsible parents, they stacked conferences back to back with Veterans day. They are all secretly laughing at us now. How are we supposed to take care of our children? Isn’t that their job?
Speaking of conferences, today I got to sit as two teachers gushed praise about how well the girls are doing, excelling in most everything, which is quite an accomplishments considering the academic and social setbacks they’ve experienced. The third teacher, who corresponded to a nameless 3rd grade redhead, conducted the conference with a few less glowing adjectives and a few more throat clearings and restarted explanations. It seems that while spelling tests, reading comprehension and phonetics are all being eaten alive in a series of 100% scores and edible prizes, the dark abyss of math has become the perfect haven for a stubborn display of temper, frustration and a slew of victimized excuses, or none at all and just blatant refusal to even try. (does that sound a little familiar, mom?) And apparently the homework that is done and verified at home most evenings by one or the other of the consenting adults in the household has been sucked into the bottomless vacuum of nowhere that is synonymous with Kizzie’s backpack. So we have a little work to do. Since it is math and I still have the same sentiment about math that I did when I was 8, I sent the parent packet home with her dad and lectured him on his failure to pass his technical inclinations on to his offspring, as I had benevolently and OBVIOUSLY contributed richly all of my talents and abilities. At any rate, I guess we didn’t skate by completely, and in spite of all of the natural intelligence and precociousness of the girls, we’ve got a little remediation and attitude adjustment to do. 2 for 3 ain’t bad, though! Both Halle and Nattie’s teachers said that if all their students were like those girls, teaching wouldn’t be a job… (Is that just a line, Peg?) Mr. Sales even sent Halle home with an extra project for the weekend so she wouldn’t get bored, and now she is overrunning Lee’s precious “man time” in his shop building a detailed to-scale model of a man of war complete with sailors falling off the crows nest to their grisly death and a lecture on the tradition of drinking at sea and the dangerous of occupational inebriation.
Lee and I survived his first buck with only a few major attitudes and blowups, all on my part, I will add. I never volunteered to help butcher and I never pretended to want to, so why he would expect a good attitude is beyond me. I tried to explain my exemption status from chicken butchering and how that must inevitably carry over… but he kept forgetting. Oh well, it’s in the freezer now, no thanks to me, although Halle is coming along nicely in the slaughtering department. Anything for an anatomy lesson. I did manage to cook some backstrap steaks the other day that were pretty darn good, which everyone says is hard to do. (Why do we feel the need to hunt?) Lee was disappointed when I only rated it a 5-6 out of a 10 for best steak ever, but honestly, compared to prime rib, it was still venison. If our range is cube steak – sirloin then wer’re Ok, that’s gonna get you at least an 8.
Well, the apple butter is burning, the pork chops are still frozen and the banana bread smells divine. I hope the chucks of egg shell are big enough to pick out. Better run… The bathtub needs a good scrubbing. Sounds like a job for super halle.
Always here and always crazy,
Liv
Sent: Monday, January 16, 2006 10:49 AM
Subject: a "hallway"
Nattie called today a “hallway” instead of a holiday. But she knows all about Martin Luther King Jr. Oh well. You win some, you lose some. It’s snowing. Light, spare snowflakes that are getting thicker every few minutes. Lee is on his way back from a very unsuccessful trip to Republic where he didn’t find any work that he could do, at least any that paid. I just got home from three nights on call, picked up the girls and came home to listen to Lily sing me a song about how scary it was here alone outside all weekend and what hard work it is taking care of “her” two puppies (that we are babysitting for my sister). Now she is curled up asleep in one of “her” chairs and her babies are crashed out next to me. The girls are playing in their room with all of their newly rediscovered Christmas toys and I am doing online surveys and listening to my favorite songs in a custom made playlist on my computer.
Aspen got out of the car this morning chanting about “elo’s brrrmm brrmm (truck)” and elo’s mommy coming. We are all very excited. She was a little perturbed that elo wasn’t here to greet her and harass her.
Today I have at least 15 loads of laundry to get done. I am in a little bit of pain after I fried myself in the tanning booth in a gross overcompensation for the lack of sunlight in my life. I am wearing as little clothing as possible for the next couple of days. Fair warning to any surprise visitors.
I really need to go down and start a fire since the electric heat has been running all weekend to keep the hermit crab warm in his delicate pink undergarment while he grows new skin. It’s a lot to pay for a crab, but he’s so cute. Not really. And if I don’t have a fire going I’ll never hear the end of it from the man-child who will also be slightly put out if I do start a fire because that is an indicator of my ability to survive without him (somehow the fact that I made it through 26 years on my own escapes him completely).
Anyway, hope your “hallway” is going well. We are all good.
Sent: Wednesday, May 24, 2006 3:56 PM
Subject: hi
sorry about the long silence. I was on call for 60 hours over the weekend, then worked mon/tues at the school and with t-ball and soccer I had almost forgotten there was an internet. but I am back now, ebaying and emailing with a vengance.
as for my top secret never to be duplicated marinade, the other night for the "best steaks ever" it was just beer, montreal steak seasoning and garlic. I usually use either beer or wine(whichever I have managed to not finish off), the m.s,s, garlic, some lea&perrins, a splash of soy sauce and maybe a little bbq if I'm bored. I let those particular steaks which were particularly good because they were T-bones and flanks from our home grown organic freezer beef marinade from about 3 pm on mothers day 'til about 6 pm the next day since our mothers day b-b-q was interupted by the unequivocally important fire of Leroy's.
anyway, today we have had thunder, lightening, downpours and 80 degree sunshine bursts, one of which we are experiencing now... oh wait, here comes the rain again.
Lee is working somewhere close by, but far enough that he can't experience Aspen's screaming fits...she is going through an anti-disciplinarian mode where it's a test of wills to see who will hold out the longest... and Natalee's post school fall apart routine when Kizzie beats her to the bathroom after they get off the bus...and Halle's panic stricken hunt for her soccer shorts which no one else touches but she can NEVER find... and darling macKenzie, who was put through the ringer so thouroghly after spending two hours in detention yesterday that she is positively angelic today. (Lee had her write letters{very LONG letters}to all of the teachers and staff that she had been disrespectful and disobedient to. we'll see if it made her think)
anyway, I need to get dinner in the oven and switch the laundry (where the sinister soccer shorts probably are) and administer another round of positive behavior enforcing attention to aspen who is still screaming in my bedroom, before we leave for soccer. ahhhh. maybe I'll just check my new ebay auctions so I can revel in the peace of SOMETHING accomplished before Lee gets home and stomps disapprovingly around and huffs and puffs his way through picking up the house that I so obviously and blatantly disregarded all day long.
yes, Halle is asking about the shorts. predictable. and MacKenzie is asking to wear a dress to soccer and if there are any high heel soccer cleats. I am assistant coach, which I thought would consist of hollering from the sidelines and monitoring orange consumption on the sidelines, but no, we have one of those talented pro-active coaches who expects me to be out passing and dribbling (and pretending to teach 8 and 9 year olds how) and keeping up with the team. it's embarrassing, but fun. even though aspen and natalee have taken to sneaking over to the nearby mosquito infested creek complete with black mud banks that are positively irresistible to kids in white shorts and the last pair of flip flops that the dog hasn't chewed.
oh shoot. I need to get to the post office!
bye
Liv
Sent: Tuesday, October 24, 2006 10:14 AM
Subject: a day
So, did I tell you that the girls are learning Spanish? It's very cool, actually, for homework they have to set the DVD of the Incredibles on the Spanish setting and watch the whole movie in Spanish, at least once a day. And then they have these little white tags that have english on one side and spanish on the other that the girls are putting all over the house. It was OK until I opened the silverware drawer and individual forks and spoons were labeled. (ALL three girls have thier own set of tags). there was a tag on the toilet, the doorknob, the mirror (right at face height) most of the pictures in the house, and as I did a 360 around the kitchen looking for a 6 inch space with no spanish tags, I noticed Clementine staring at me with tag hanging between her eyes. I went to the couch to lay down and close my eyes for a second and when I opened them, there was the spanish word for ceiling, directly overhead. To add insult to injury, MY very personal ebay/computer chair was labeled, and to top it off... did you know that computadora is Spanish for computer? Can I punish children for being overzealous in thier learning? Personally I think Aspen is doing just fine with the few words she gets from Dora the Explorer. I mean, who needs more than azul and able (ahhhbbley)? especially when you don't even know what they mean. (actually it's blue and open.) I suppose Bano is nice to know, which should never be an issue again since the w.c. is labelled in trio. We had company the other night that told us he felt much better after a visit to the "bano", and how nice it would be to have one in his house. The fun comes to a screeching halt when I wake up in the morning to fine "madre" taped to my forehead.
Sent: Tuesday, November 14, 2006 7:52 PM
Subject: Fw: another day... continued
IT all began innocently enough... Lee, in all of his benevolent good-deed-doing, decided to clean out the litter box, which, unbeknownst to me, the cat had actually decided to use, in addition to the dirt floor in the basement and a pair of once clean sox that some how wound up back in the sock basket after feline use, contaminating the entire 27 lbs of clean, if not mated socks. So as he tossed the chunks of litter coated poop over the bank toward the open field, little Ralphy, the hound dog imposter, met each flying clump with a graceful leap and devoured the foul matter, scented clay inclusive. If it was an omen of things to come, we may never know, but as the day evolved, Lee's gagging was revisited several times fervently as the gray water line in the basement apparently decided to hold a sit in against the injustice of anything more than 10 loads of laundry a day. A quavering voice over the phone gave away what his words did not:
..."um, nothing serious, but... well, the washer apparently backed up and the basement is flooded.". My reply was casual, as I sledded my way back down the mountain from hockey practice: "Oh that's all right, Leroy, don't worry about it, I'll fix it all when I get home." (loosely translated:"WHAT!!! %&()*& ^&"%(*# THAT WAS A *&^(%*$ BLEACH LOAD!!!! GET ALL THE OTHER CLOTHES OFF OF THE ^(&*%*$( FLOOOOOOR [SLIGHT WAIL INFERRED].) Of course the fact that the load that had overflowed the drains on the floor contained copious amounts of bleach since at least one family member had had a momentary potty training lapse in a sudden outburst of diaretic incontinence would not have been terrible if the $250 worth of brand name ebay sales items were not laying in aforementioned bleachy poop water.
Somehow, with a lot of pinesol and a little more swearing, catastrophe was averted and the day continued without mishap... until I went to town and ran my errands, and on the way back was overcome by the previously mentioned diarreal virus. Intent on not compromising my as yet perfect potty training record, I was in a frantic rush to get to the bathroom, which seemed nearly innaccessible through a sea of dogs and three year olds with toys and a couple of oversized packages from the post office. It could have gone smoothly, but first aspen forgot to take her left arm out of the seatbelt, and while wearing a puffy down coat may be appropriate for the 20 degree weather, it is entirely unhelpful when trying to dislodge a toddler dangling from one arm from a poorly fastened car seat in a large SUV. After she was extricated, I made an impassioned effort (request to the audience to remember the absolutely compelling reason for my hurriedness has moved me at this point to the verge of tears) to herd the child, with a stuffed snow white doll, and the GIANT box of christmas legos toward the door while tripping over wiener dogs that are apparently as frantic to get inside to poop as I am. Mo and Lu didn't help either, knocking Aspen to the ground in an all our Coup so that Ralphy could steal the Snow White doll and put his cat poop mouth on it. Having chased him out to the horse pen and retrieved the toy (not bothering to wipe of the specks of what look suspiciously like kitty litter), I grab aspen by the remaining arm and claw my way through the door, dumping child, toy, boxes and wiener dogs on the living room floor and making a mad dash for the toilet. I could not have been sitting for more than 30 seconds of euphoric relief when I realized Aspen was standing in front of me in an odd position. " I CAN"T HOLD IT!!!!" she squeals.... a phrase I had no idea she knew, but flashing back to the plethera of times I had asked her if she could "just hold it 'til...." when we were halfway to nowhere in the car. Being the dutiful parent I am, I relinquished my throne to the child, who did, for all appearances, absolutely NOTHING on it. I refrained from removing her head for the moment and settled for putting her down for a very long nap.
Finally relieved, I spent the rest of my afternoon packaging my ebay items that sold for just enough to justify going back to goodwill to Leroy, picking off Edgar hairs and what appeared to be bit small bits of aromatic clay, praying that my buyers weren't allergic to cat poop.
When Aspen finally woke up (I guess benadryl only has a 4 hour effective zone now), she came to me begging to watch the Pony movie. I decided for the first time ever to try to be a good mother and tried to divert her away from the TV for a change. "Why don't you go find your My Little Pony's and play with them?" I suggested, in the best good mother voice I could muster, Feeling proud of myself for knowing the copyrighted name of the favorite toys. Aspen gave me the three year old version of the death look - Lee calls them my "crazy eyes." Eyeing me suspiciously, she asked "why did you call them your little ponies?" in a psuedo you're-so-silly voice, edged with protective jealousy. I quickly mumbled something much too grown up about copyrights and actual names, and she came back with a confrontational, hand-on-hips question, voiced raised at least 5 decibles. "Why did you just say 'They are MY little ponies'?They are NOT your little ponies." I recanted profusely and put the movie on.
When Lee got home from work, surprisingly, the aroma of the backed up gray water still clung to him. He says that he changed his clothes. but I am afraid sometimes he has this rationale that argues the underwear as a full-fledged piece of changeable clothing and doesn't like the feel of cold boxer briefs unless the previously mentioned potty training lapses strike. So, whether it was gray water or unchanged underwear, or both, after he showered, he showed me the giant glowing purple thumbnail he had earned at work for his effort in the Darwin award competition that I believe all male workplaces hold at least weekly. I offered to fix it for him, and when he came to, I think that the hole I had drilled in his nail with the red hot needle had alleviated some of the pressure, and confirmed my suspicions about his pain tolerance. He was unconscious just long enough to get the surgery done, which was nice, but his claim that it was the flame heating the needle that made him faint is still questionable in my mind.
Anyway, now I am on the couch, and Lee is reading this over my shoulder, so I should probably say something nice about him, but since I can't think of anything that would be funny, I'll refrain 'til next time.
later
me
Sent: Monday, January 08, 2007 10:56 AM
Subject: things I learned yesterday
1. having three children in three years is not a good idea
2. neither is having friends who have three children in three years.
3. inviting them over for dinner is especially a bad idea.
4. living in a cult for 10 years and being less damaged than someone who was there for 2 years is weird.
5. some three year olds aren't potty trained.
6. some almost two year olds don't talk and are obsessed with toilets.
7. permanent marker does not come off of painted surfaces.
8. spilled goats milk may be the only spilled milk worth crying over since it stinks even after it's been cleaned up.
9. permanent marker does not come off of stuffed animals.
10. my children are angels.
11. Lee is a saint
12. pens, tortilla chips and tootbrushes will flush down the toilet.
13. permanent marker comes off faces (after two or three days).
14. having friends that work graveyard over for dinner is a bad idea. they are just waking up and asking for more coffee when you are ready for bed.
15. ALWAYS keep extra toothbrushes around for emergency replacements.
16. you can never have too much toilet paper stocked up.
17. Lee's home brew stains carpet.
18. rubber dolls, hair bands and tortilla chips fit nicely through the vent grates.
19. my three year old is a relative genius.
20. sometimes we grow apart from people for very good reasons.
big sigh. time to vaccuum.
:o)
Sent: Wednesday, January 10, 2007 1:26 PM
Subject: monopoly with young children - revised
So last night I made an ill-fated attempt at earning a good mom brownie point or two, and instigated a game of Monopoly with the kids.
Kizzie could be an excellent banker, except that every time she has to figure out change from a $500 bill she throws game pieces across the room and refers to herself as a stupid-head.
We discovered that Natalee is a ruthless, hard-core, win at all cost player, complete with sneaking past landlords and playing stupid when she tries to pay $105 instead of one $500 bill. Who could make that mistake? I mean, a hundred and five is the same as five hundred, right? She still can't admit that mom beat her, even though it was by $300 and several key properties. Red is so much prettier than blue anyway.
Halle doesn't care about much as long as she keeps her overall dollar balance over $100. anything less involves hysterical panic and a few well-placed tears. At one point when she didn't have enough to buy a property that she landed on, she slipped into a full-on depression, complete with mood swings and sleeplessness.
The best part of the game was when Aspen, who was terribly bored and entertaining herself by running full-bore into mom's side every few minutes, let all of the dogs in and squealed in delight when they, of course, decided that the best place in the house to come in and flop down would be in the middle of the monopoly board. It wouldn't have been so bad except that MacKenzie was $10 away from having the exact change in small bills for a property sale to Halle. The small bills were sadly scattered and mysteriously absorbed into the ever expanding Natalee zone, who was chuckling maniacally and making strange sounds under her breath. Halle was thrown into a panic since the deed she was in the process of procuring got lost somewhere between Mom and Kizzie and Elo, never to resurface, even after the dogs had been carried, individually, hind legs dragging with toenails dug into the carpet, to the door and thrown out. Adding insult to injury, Lee's coffee was spilled all over Halle when Lu hit with her scratching foot in a rapid backstroke. Clemetine and Edgar were thrown out too just for good measure. Truck would've gone out too, but he was busy peeing on the carpet.
It was about this time that I remembered having foolishly given Aspen several ounces of Dr. Pepper earlier when I didn't want to finish it. I commented on this being the probable reason for her behavior and she gave Lee a high speed drive by thumbs-up, as if to say, shouldn't it be like this every night at bedtime? I realized that part of the noise issuing from Natalee's spot next to me were the sound effects for her "cheerers" which were all of the unadopted monopoly peices that had apparently opted to sit and enjoy the game from her very soft pile of money, rooting her dog around the board.
We gave them all a brownie to calm them down, and Nattie's underbreath noises suddenly got faster and louder. I keep telling Lee not to put chocolate chips in the brownie mix. The chocolate seemed to save Halle from a suicidal slide, and she rallied to procure another railroad and collect copious ammounts of rent from Leroy, who up to this point had managed to land only on other people's property and the income tax spot repeatedly, but somehow he still had a large pile of cash - I am wondering if it had to do with the cash scatter when the dogs disrupted the game. Anyway, it took some time to figure out where everyone had been, especially since Halle was really supposed to be four spaces past St. Charles place because she rolled doubles and landed first on chance, pulled the advance to St Charles, and then rolled a 4. Interestingly, she only read the "if you pass go, collect $200 part of the card and was so excited about the prospect of getting the $200 (which she didn't anyway) had rolled the 4 without advancing to aformentioned property. By the time all of this was sorted out it was pretty much past bedtime, but Leroy begged for another round so he could have a chance to buy at least one property. Just before he landed on the luxury tax space, he bought MacKenzie's railroad off of her for $400 and lifetime immunity, which he claims is a Stecker rule and the girls all voted in.
After Lee paid taxes on his railroad we all went to bed. This morning the Monopoly iron was sneaking out from under the futon where it had been hiding from the mayhem. I found it and put it away after I wiped the blood from my foot off of it.
hey mom, do you have the princess monopoly game? Kizzie says its way shorter and easier. maybe there's no $500 bills.
Sent: Monday, January 29, 2007 5:47 PM
Subject: the calender errs.
SO I have formally decided, or decided to formally change my week so that Friday, Saturday and Sunday are officially mid-week days and mon-thurs are my weekends. It seems that all of the craziness and activity gets high-centered from friday afternoon to sunday morning, and it's silly to waste my mondays and tuesdays which are quiet and serene, on weekdays. Hence forth and forever more they shall be my weekends. Until things change again, i.e. hockey ends (Mar. 3) the play is done (Mar 18th) and I can sign up for shifts on days other than weekends when David or Lee can watch kids. (that will happen about June 15th when the kids move into Davids for the summer and I become the weekend babysitter.)
SO, this weekend, in addition to Natalee's hockey tournament in Castlegar, I was on call for 36 hours, at reahearsal for 12, and driving for about 30.
Sorry I've been out of touch, but whenever I sit down at a computer, my time seems to be completely absorbed with ebay and stressing out about whether the bug has actually sold (which would be awesome) or if it was some cosmic accident that someone bid over the reserve and really the whole thing is going to result in bad feedback and a scar on my otherwise really really good ebay career. Or at least OK ebay career. Ok, so it's not really a career and Lee would argue that it's just a hobby that justifies my mouse clicking passion. Who would have a mouse clicking passion? Lee thinks it's my all time favorite thing to do. Obviously the boy has not been shopping with me, or made it all the way through an episode of Grey's Anatomy. (don't watch it mom - you'd hate it)
The good news, for anyone who hasn't heard it: not only did MacKenzie win the bug award (best kid in her class for the month), but I got a special phone call from her teacher, the principle, and the "solutions" lady, (which I almost didn't answer, dreading another discinplinary intervention) where they cheered on speaker phone for her tremendous change of heart for the entire quarter. She even made it to the monthly otter pop party since she had no discipline slips AT ALL!!! WOO-HOO!!! So what if it took her 4 years to figure it out. An entire school quarter with no classmates blood shed is a landmark! Halle and Natalee cleaned up at assembly awards this quarter (Kizzie only got one), apparently Halle made a 57% improvement in her math, which Mr. B. says is unheard of and almost humanly immpossible. We always knew she had superhero potential. It was definitely the cape. I did discover, however, that she has been sneaking her cap to school on "no hat days" when I tell her to go without, and wearing it regardless. She looked as surprised as I was to see me there in the school yard when I wasn't supposed to be. I had no idea my child was capable of deceit. Is it too soon to look for drugs under the bed? Or where do they hide those????
Well, when I am not excersizing my superhuman skills and aiding local law enforcement in tasing young drunks, or madly listing billions of auctions that end for barely enough to pay the ebay fees, or wowing everyone with my stellar acting abilities, I spend my time avoiding the perpetual sink full of dishes and mountain of laundry in the basement. Today, however, I am an overacheiver. Since I have rehearsal every night this week, I spent the day cooking. I now have four dinners lined out and Leroy proof (lord willing). Kizzie even made blueberry muffins and drop biscuits today. I am supposed to be starting a job with the local Farmer's Supply store, but that is hanging in the good ol' boy "i'll give you a call" category. In the meantime, since I am pretty bored, Or broke, I have a test in Spokane next Monday with Customs and Immigration for a border guard job. We shall see. Dad says all those people are nice in a militant way. But they do carry tasers. I think tasers are cool. Do you think they would know if I tased my kids? I wonder if they inventory shocks delivered or something? The little barbs that stick into your skin don't leave much of a mark. Hmmm.... We could have used a taser yesterday in Dairye Queene (Canadian) in Castlegar when a big "volunteer firefighter" that watches too much Spike TV confronted a couple of methed out punks in line and made them turn down their boom box. They of course, delivered a few obscenities and aquiesced only enough that everyone around them could say they had sort of complied, when really we all wanted to see them get pounded. There was a lot of chest puffing on the part of the older guy and slithering on the part of the kids. It was really uncomfortable. Natalee was all decked out in her hockey gear and ready to take them out... if she had had a clue what was going on. She was pretty preoccupied by the freezer full of dilly bars.
tonight is chicken noodle (seashells since I needed to use them up) soup and Kizzie's biscuits before we rush up to hockey. Somebody just dropped in to pick up one of the three extra kids here a minute ago and commented on how amazing I was since there was soup bubbling on the stove, hot bicuits on the counter and the vaccuum out in the middle of the room looking for all the world as if it were poised for impending use... I didn't bother to tell her it's been there since last Tuesday, Kizzie made the biscuits and the seashell pasta wasn't really homemade. We make our own reality, right???
gotta go eat soup.
later
me
Sent: Monday, February 12, 2007 10:29 PM
Subject: Re: address
it is my one night of the week home. after making valentines, taco salad and a destructive game of scrabble (wherein I decimated the opposition - which may or may not say something for my spelling abilities since I was word-building for half of them anyway[as if Natalee really knew what a vicar was]), I managed to get all three older and dirtier children bathed, allowing Aspen's cuteness in spite of filth to sway my decision to forego her shower (not to mention I needed some hot water for my own), medicated for lingering coughs, complete with vapor chest rub and triaminic nightime grape flavor which made Natalee throw up into my water that she was trying to chase it with, and into bed. I washed all the dishes, rotated the fifth load of laundry since I got home at 5:00 into the washer and vacuumed the living room. Oh yes, and cleaned the bathroom from the multi-shower fallout. Now it is my moment. The moment I have been waiting for since Thursday night. The moment that has been averted by ambulance calls, computer-hogging shift partners, hovering, micro-managing employers, 4.72 hours of sleep, 14.9 hours of rehearsal and approximately 2.5 days of driving, has finally arrived. And it is 9:14, which means any minute Leroy could pull down the driveway and walk through the door into my clean house and either: A) huff and puff indignantly that I am watching Grey's Anatomy online again - "you are pathetic"; 2) collapse on the floor sobbing about the sniffles he has had for three days and ask for a neck massage or C) ask me if I appreciated that he had done the dishes for me and did I happen to get his carhartts washed; all three options which ultimately distract and preclude my undivided attention from being spent in the ultimate bliss of tuning out to become caught up in the world of Seattle Grace.
I forgot to throw in that I also put one of those 8-10 shampoo wash out colors in my hair called "shimmering spice" which Kizzie thought was certainly with the intent of matching her shade perfectly, and mentioned how I was probably disappointed that it really didn't change my brown hair very much. I was just relieved to have a break from the roots of mousy, blase brown that I have been staring at since two weeks after I used a less temporary hair color that grew out nearly as quickly as it set in. And I also failed to mention the philisophical conversation we shared over the dinner table about infantile memories, which somehow led to someone's memory of Natalee pooping her pants, which led to her remembering when Aspen pooped her pants, which, lest anyone should feel badly about themselves, brought up the occasional time that Halle and MacKenzie had themselves been caught with the telltale mess, and, that in all four cases, invariably, I had been the one to clean up. That struck them all as very funny and I considered feeling sorry for myself until one of them poised the question as to my youthful continence and decided it probably would be best to find out from Grandma Stecker if mom in fact had ever pooped her pants as a child. I diverted that phone call with the mention that at least we aren't gross boys like Elo who probably still poops his pants occasionally, which brought a hearty round of agreement from all present. Such excellent mealtime conversation.
Now the drier is buzzing and it is time for load six and I must get to my show before he gets home. For once I am thankful he is such a slow driver...
later
me
Sent: Tuesday, November 06, 2007 10:20 AM
Subject: Lee's throwing up rules
1. kids will always intitiate vomiting when mother leaves
2. vomit will always look like the last thing you ate
3. carrying a puking toddler to the bathtub with her face wrapped in a blanket is a suffocating danger, but the risk is justified
4. the higher the Mr. Bubble to Water ratio, the less puke you smell and the fewer floating chunks are visible
5. bowls are never easy targets for four year olds
6. removing cushion covers, vacuuming in, around, under and on the couch, spraying an entire can of lysol disenfectant everywhere (including down the vaccuum tube) does not make it feel cleaner
7. dogs are NOT thorough vomit cleaners
8. cousins are ALWAYS the disease spreaders
9. feeding sick 4 year olds cookies and juice and bagels with cream cheese is a bad idea
10. carpet is a bad idea.
11. kids are probably a bad idea.
Sent: Monday, October 22, 2007 10:51 AM
Subject: train ride
So we survived a fun, family holiday outing yesterday. Ione, Washington (population 44), is home to a Train ride hosted by the lions club that meanders from what I presume to be downtown, to an even smaller town called Metaline, for about 45 minutes each way along the Pend Oreille River. Karen thought it would be a festive thing to spend $10 per person on since the last train ride of the season is all holiday themed, with (as we discovered) free candy and no heating. The free candy contributed to the constant rotation of children in train seats that I think offened the tourists that sat directly across from the kids since the parents had taken a defensive stance at the very back of the car. I think the conductor was mildly perturbed as well when they were trying to fill in the seats since the ride was sold out and a chair next to Halle had mysteriously developed a large puddle of what I suspect was bluberry-pear-current juice from a bottle that apparently belonged to no one, but that remarkably resembled the ones all of our children were tossing back and forth across the aisle. Whether it was the candy, the cold or just being overwhelmed by the sheer holiday joy of it all (that was Lee's bet), the girls all developed impressive pouty faces along the ride at various points. I think it was a relay-pout that started with Halle when we refused to buy her a train whistle, then handed off to Kizzie who was gruesomely mistreated by Ashtyn and Nat for no apparent reason. Aspen then picked up the torch when we forced her to sit in her own seat (vs. a warm lap) for a minute since we paid for it and didn't want some "random weirdo" (as Karen calls all strangers) sitting next to our kids. Natalee finished off the circuit when Kizzie returned to her seat and flipped the Ashtyn clique against her sister. It was a landmark day for the Glanville girls. Karen and Andrea both found sitters for their youngest which meant we were 2 down from our ten count and also meant that I had twice as many children as anyone else there. Twice as many, who were twice as old, twice as opinionated, and twice as demanding, which resulted in the three older girls jogging about 1/2 mile up smackout pass behind the Tahoe in search of an attitude adjustment. I don't know if it made a difference for the girls, but Lee was certainly happier. Natalee and Aspen both bit the dust on the long and winding road home and Halle tried to avoid throwing up between emotional sobs since no one loves her or cares and she was profoundly carsick. MacKenzie wisely sat in the back back and made not a sound but smiled serenely the entire 68 minutes home. All in all it was a fun day and really nobody developed any lasting scars. except maybe leeroy... but he's tough.
Sent: Tuesday, November 27, 2007 10:22 AM
Subject: ta dah!
It's official. Finally. For real. I have legally adopted Lee. Now I can claim him as a dependent and garnish his wages for his child support.
Just kidding. Actually he took me for a ridiculously long 3 wheeler ride and beat around the bush for about 2 hours and finally dug a big old diamond out of his carhartts and dropped a knee. Then he threw up. And passed out. When he came to I said yes. And he threw up again. But we're good now. And I have a beautiful spaaakly ring. And Mackenzie is SOOOO relieved to not have to correct the kids at school who call Lee her dad anymore. And Aspen says it's OK as long as she gets a wedding dress too. Halle just thinks it's gross when he kisses me and Natalee had to tell a long long story about a book called too many tamales that had to do with losing wedding rings.
So... engagement FAQ's:
1. we aren't planning a wedding til after we buy a house, so assume a couple years
2. it will be on top of a mountain, location to be disclosed at a later date
3. yes i love the ring and no i couldn't have imagined a better proposal. (ok, the puking I could have done without, but the fainting was a nice touch)
4. The girls are excited and Lee asked their permission before he (re)proposed to me in front of them
5. Halle requested NO pink dresses (nothing personal josh and lindsey)
6. We promise not to elope and then cash in on a wedding. we'll make the expensive wedding worth it.
7. we will be registered at harbor freight, lowes, home depot, sears, the dewalt store and costco
8. etc. etc. etc.
PS - feel free to forward this to whomever you deem worthy and edit any unacceptabilites. I will not invoke the copyright laws.
Sent: Friday, February 01, 2008 11:58 AM
Subject: the bain of unemployment.
They may tell you that the worst thing about not having work in the winter is the way the bill keep piling up and the paychecks don't, resulting in financial chaos and mayhem, anxiety, depression, blameshifting and bitterness which then becomes one of the leading causes of divorce in the nation, but I am here to testify that it is not acutally the financial ramifications of wintertime layoffs that are so devastating and destruction, it is the amount of time one is forced to spend with a male who is suddenly thrust into a world of uselessness and self-doubt that is the killer. As if having no substantial income wasn't bad enought, unemployment adds insuly to injury by compelling the laid off male to do ABSOLUTELY nothing, at risk of being reminded that they are not gainfully employed. Other than the merciful distraction of video games and the occasional discovery channel 36 hour marathon, the poor lad is forced to surf the web or sleep, or in extreme cases of boredom, haul firewood from the shed, a chore which clearly is beneath him and in any normal, healthy family, would be done by the kids. So in a drastic attempt to save his hands from the unavoidable softening from the lack of use, they will undertake noble projects of humanitarian aid, like rebuilding a 62 year old chain saw that really becomes a brand new saw after 82 hours of work and $300 of parts, one (small) shop fire and an unfortunate episode of 2nd degree skin burns from the food grade (35%) hydrogen peroxide (that has been in the fridge, carefully protected and labeled with severe warnings about the caustic hazards) that he uses, with bare hands, all over his new carhartts, to clean out the carburator that just won't stop leaking for all of the money and time he sinks into it. The aftermath of such an episode becomes a 4 hour argument about whether or not he had actually been warned many times about aforementioned substance, and if crotchless carhartts are actually going to be a new fashion trend. Even in erotic boutiques, I have my doubts. And really, we all know the argument is actually just one more attempt on his part to cure his endless boredom, since the pain from the burns has worn off, and also, to reassure himself of his intelligence and usefulness in society, as he throw every trick in the book at you to convince you that the fire, the burns, the destroyed pants, are somehow ALL your fault. As if I poured the gasoline over his shop bench and I subsequntly lit his propane torch to "clean out" the extra fluids from the carburator. Sigh. At least we can take comfort in the new carhartt material we have for patching the next pair to lose a crotch. And we can gently apoligize for ever owning such a hazardous material, much less leaving it unsupervised in the refrigerator. And we can repent for not installing a gas fume detector, or an idiot alarm in the shop for such moments. Yes, we have failed in our neverending responsibilities as we have continued to work at our NON-seasonal job, toil away at our ebay listings, shuttle kids and friends from one end of the county to the other, babysit for all the other moms who can't leave their kids with the babysitter because they have the virus that they are sure their kids contracted from mine anyway, and cook 6 course hot meals three times a day because, after all, he is home now and we should make the most of it and he gets SO cold working in the shop, or taking the kid to hockey, and special compensation must be made in order for him to not spiral into a downward spin that takes everyone within a 50 mile radius beneath the depths of the underworld with him to bask in a dark oblivion of nuclear waste.
This is our winter. The ones who love the season workers. And the ones who wonder, every winter, why. We are the ones who tolerate being told how lazy and worthless we are, because as we sit on the computer, listing our auctions and emailing his mother, he assumes that this is ALL we EVER do and wouldn't it be nice if HIS life was so posh, but no, he has to actually WORK for a living, and we should be grateful that he supports our lazy habits of endless internet shopping and instant messaging, which somehow miraculously transform into money in the bank and new work boots on his poor cold feet. Somehow he actually manages to pause his medal of honor game and turn to point out, with great feeling and emotion, how unfair it is that we get to be warm and comfortable at all times while he wastes away in the cold and miserable outdoors, MOST of the time. How I long for those days again.
If anyone hears of odd jobs open - Alaska, Wisconsin, etc. OR cheap airfare to fly him anywhere but here, let me know.
thanks
L
