Shoot me Now!

This is where my twelve year old and my eight year old will be spending their summer vacation next year - St. John's Northwestern Military Academy. They have a summer camp program! Forget Super Nanny. Bring on Lieutenant Colonel Jim Kebisek, B.S., M.S., U.S. Army Engineer (Ret.)!

What prompted this decision? We're going camping again this weekend so we're (and by we're, I mean my eleven year old, Nana and I) doing laundry, packing up, grocery shopping, cooking, etc. Know what Aj has done to help? ::: sound of crickets in background ::: Know what Boo has done to help? He shucked one ear of corn for me. One out of twelve ears. Know where he peeled this ear of corn? On my couch. Know how long it took me to vacuum all those silk fibers off the couch? Too long. Know how many times I've heard one of them scream, fight, cry, or otherwise bug each other today? A number large enough hasn't been discovered as of yet. Thus military school.

As far as camping - the air conditioner in our camper broke and the part my husband ordered to fix it hasn't come in yet. It's supposed to be 480 degrees this weekend. I'm camping with my in laws. I'm packing rum. Lots and lots of rum. See you Monday.

Camping for Large Families (as long as your family isn't too large)

We were going to go camping this weekend at a place called Happy Acres. I mean, Happy Acres! What could be bad about a place filled with acres of happy people camping? I perused their website and was impressed with the fact that they used the word "family" nine times on the first page! Wow, this place is really geared toward families. In fact, their website states - The modern concept of "family camping" has led to the success of many campgrounds. It also has given many families, especially large families, an opportunity to go out camping at an affordable price.

However, a little farther down that same page, they write - The camping rates are based on family units. One site equals one family, one family equals Dad, Mom, and up to 4 dependent children. Anybody else is considered a visitor or an overnight guest and is expected to register as such at the camp office and will be charged $12.50 per person, per night. Those who fail to register are considered to be trespassers, and may be prosecuted.

Ohhhh. OK, so let me get this straight. You offer affordable camping for large families, but if the "large" family has more than four kids, then they must pay $12.50 per child, per night or you'll prosecute them for trespassing. I see. Yep, that sounds pretty family friendly to me. I never realized that a family with four children is considered large and having more than four children is considered grounds for legal action and punishment.

Although an extra $25 a night may not sound like a lot of money, we will never camp at this "family friendly" (and I use the term lightly) place. It's a matter of principle! Instead we will be spending our weekend at Holiday Acres where you pay one price for your family no matter how many children you have. Maybe there aren't acres of happy people there, but there are sure to be people on holiday and holidays are good. Especially when you can bring ALL your children with you.

Twenty-one More Days! (not that I'm counting)

I went to Target yesterday to buy some diapers and somehow managed to ring up a $100 bill by the time I left. Target does that to me. I go in to buy one thing, but manage to leave with two dozen things that, despite the fact that they weren't on my list, I decided I needed.

So I'm walking up and down the aisles of "Carget", as my 3 year old calls it, and I behold the most glorious sight! The store filled with doves, a choir of angels sang and a light from Heaven shone down illuminating the display of ::::drumroll:::: BACK TO SCHOOL SUPPLIES! Yes, it's almost that most wonderful time of the year and it can't come soon enough. I ran into a teacher friend of mine while at the store and she asked me if I was ready for school. I glanced at my baby trying to stand up in the cart, my 3 year old old running down the aisle laughing like he just broke out of an insane asylum, my 6 year old telling me that she'd somehow broken her glasses again, my 8 year old interrupting me to ask if I'd buy him some baseball cards, my 11 year old chasing my 3 year old in an effort to get him to stop and my 12 year old hitting my 8 year old for no apparent reason. "What do you think?!" I retorted.

She told me that she was definitely not ready for school to begin. Ahhh, there's the difference between parents and teachers. I'm a huge proponent of year round school. The kids attend school the same number of days, but those days are more spread out during the year. The advantage is that the kids' brains don't turn to pudding during the long summer break, teachers don't have to spend the first two months of school reviewing all the things that were sucked out of the kids' memories during the summer, parents and students get more frequent, much needed breaks throughout the year. And although the kids still have a nice summer vacation, they're back in school before the "I'm bored"s set in.

My mother-in-law, who works at a food pantry, called to see if she could borrow my two oldest kids to help her with some volunteer work tomorrow. "I'll pick them up at 8:00 and bring them back around 4:00. Is that ok?"

"Is it ok? Is it ok??? Hell yes! Take 'em for the whole day! Take 'em for two days! In fact, I'll throw in the other four kids as well! No charge!"

I'm looking forward to a little peace tomorrow. And I'm looking forward to a lot of peace in twenty-one days. Oh wait! It's after midnight! Woo Hoo!!! Twenty days!

A-Camping We Will Go

Well, I'm home, showered, and rested (as rested as a person who slept on 2 inches of the bed because her 3 little kids climbed into bed with her and hogged 99% of the mattress can be), and ready to tell you about camping last week.

We got to the campground Monday evening after a quick, uneventful ride. We set up camp and sat down to relax around a fire with the kids. Not five minutes after sitting down, a truck pulled up at the site next to ours. A family got out and began to unload the truck and pitch a tent. As they made many trips carrying loads of supplies from the truck to the tent, they apparently lost track of their baby as he had wandered over to our site. Well, I completely understand how this can happen. Your child is standing next to you one minute, you turn around to grab something and in mere seconds, he's taken off for parts unknown. I understand how that can happen as I've been there and done that, but I have no idea how a one year old, wearing nothing but a dirty diaper, I might add, can leave a parent's sight for twenty minutes without them knowing. This mom and dad continued to set up camp seemingly oblivious to the fact that their one year old baby, barefoot and half naked, was toddling through our campsite and onto the road. This pattern pretty much continued the entire week. Now I don't know about anyone else, but I was not interested in babysitting their kids while I was on vacation. I have six of mine own to watch, for crying out loud.

The kids were pretty good all week. I only yelled at my dh once when the bowls he was looking for didn't jump out and bite his butt and he whined to me that he couldn't find them despite the fact that they'd been in the same spot in the camper all week. Spaz was attacked by mosquitos, Boo was stung by a bee twice, my dh got two flat tires on his bike, Spaz dumped the whole salt shaker on his eggs, we goofed up and accidentally parked in the wrong site necessitating a game of musical campers Friday night, and our air conditioner broke the last night we were there. In an attempt to fix the air conditioner, my husband, rocket scientist that he is, moved a picnic table over to the camper, then stacked a couple chairs on it, Wiley Coyote style, and climbed up the wobbling tower onto the camper. The kids made a sling shot out of the old inner tube from dh's bike and used it to shoot rocks across the campground (one guess as to who taught them that). We learned what Goji berries were, and that you don't have to go to England to see bad teeth - just go camping. We got to visit my best friend from high school and her husband and boys who live out that way and they generously treated us to Chicken George and Catfish Charlie (apparently they like to name their food in the small town in which they live) and let me use their washing machine. They invited the kids to play at their home while we chatted and loaded us up with firewood when we left. Thank you SO very much, Julie and Ron! We met a shirtless old man with a British accent who drove around in a golf cart asking people if they wanted to pet his puppy. We swam at the pool and went down an old fashioned twelve story high, metal slide of death at the beach. Our close friends, and camping buddies, joined us Friday through Monday and made the trip more entertaining. We've been camping with these friends since 1994 we always have a wonderful time together.

I got to read, a pastime I truly enjoy, but don't usually find time to do. I finished How I Write by Janet Evanovich, a book my good friend, Gin, gave me for Christmas. She insists I should write a book, but she has much more faith in me than I do. I finally read The DaVinci Code. I also read Cypress Point by Diane Chamberlain and Sea Swept by Nora Roberts. Lastly, I read the directions to get to the campground because, let's face it, if I left that task to my husband, we'd have never made it there.

I make fun of my husband, but really he does a ton of work when we camp. He oftentimes washes dishes, he dumps the gray water and starts the fire every night. He even gets up with the baby who insists upon rising at 7:00 every morning (she obviously doesn't understand the concept of a vacation!) so I can sleep in a bit. And when we left, he cleaned out the holding tank, which is a polite way of saying the poop tank. As he dumped and rinsed out the toilet, he informed me that I was very lucky that he let us go in the toilet instead of making us use the campground's facilities. He said that his father never let the family use the camper's toilet.

I stared at him for a minute and replied that "lucky" was a relative term. "I'm sorry I'm not more excited about the fact that we can poop in the camper's toilet, but consider this, hon. When you were bummed out that you weren't allowed to use your camper's toilet as a kid, I was bummed out when we had to stay at a Holiday Inn as opposed to a Hilton. You're lucky I ever agreed to go camping because honestly, my idea of a vacation is laying in the sun on the deck of a cruise ship as tanned men with accents bring me rum drinks with little paper umbrellas."

In the end, it was an enjoyable and relaxing trip and I'm thankful for the time spent with family and good friends and hey - our truck didn't even break down this time!


My best friend from H.S., her husband and one of her little boys (the other one was napping) in front of their beautiful new home

Her son giving my baby a kiss. Awww so cute!

Just relaxing with a popsicle after a long day

The old fashioned, 500 feet high, burn-your-butt-off metal, "slide of death"

Part of the gang making a tidal wave

Car Shopping & Laundry

This is what Baby did while I was packing up the camper today.
Just hanging out in the sink with my toothbrush. What's the problem?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There comes a time when, after having a child or two, you decide to turn in your dream car for a minivan. Well, we've long since passed that stage and are now thinking of turning in our minivan for a bus. OK, well maybe not a bus, but a really big van. Right now I have two bench seats in my van. Each bench holds two children in car seats and one child squished between the seats. I have only one sliding door and let me tell ya, I could be in the circus with the contortion act I do every day trying to get the kids all buckled into their car seats.

So, we went to a car dealer yesterday to take a look at a ten passenger van we'd seen advertised. Since this dealer was over an hour away, we called first to confirm that they still had this particular van in stock. We were assured that they did indeed have it. Guess what. They didn't have it. The salesman insisted he could find us another car that we'd love and led us to a Mustang. Ummm hello? Do you not see the parade of kids behind us? Maybe we could put a few kids in the trunk? Although it would undoubtedly be a quieter ride that way, I don't think it's especially legal.

CAR SALESMAN: Oh, no problem. I understand. I have another car that will work. (as he leads us over to a Ford Freestyle)

ME: This only has six seats.

CAR SALESMAN: Yes.

ME: Can you count?

CAR SALESMAN: Huh?

ME: There are EIGHT of us. See? Eight. A vehicle that seats six passengers won't really work for us. Do you understand?

CAR SALESMAN: Ohhhh (still looking completely dumbfounded)

Needless to say, we did not purchase a new vehicle yesterday.

OK, I'm off to finish up some laundry. Speaking of - it absolutely cracks me up when my sister or my mom says something like, "I have to do laundry today." Today? Today??? That always makes me fall over laughing. I do an average of three loads a day. Every day. I don't mind doing laundry. Really, laundry rates way higher than changing poopy diapers, cleaning the toilet that my sons can't hit to save their lives, and, God forbid, cleaning up vomit. The only thing that makes me insane is when my children take their nice, clean, freshly folded laundry and instead of putting it away in their drawers and closets, they plop it on their floor. It sits there a few days only to be thrown back into the hamper when, after I've threatened their very lives, they clean their rooms. Not that I don't just adore being their maid, but something about washing perfectly clean clothes before they're even worn makes the blood vessels in my head explode.

Sorry, I digress. Now, I'm going to finish folding the laundry for my kids to throw on their floors. Have a wonderful night!

In a Funk

I've been in a funk the past couple days. It started on Thursday, which just happened to be my anniversary. Fifteen years I've been married to Mr. Wonderful. Know what he did for our anniversary? He called me from work to let me know that he was going to be working all night and while on the phone, off-handedly mumbled out a luke warm "Oh, by the way, happy anniversary." This got me thinking about mother's day when he did nothing because "you're not my mom." And then there was my birthday when he did nothing because, well just because, I guess.

Then last night, I watched Bridge to Terabithia with my kids. Have you seen this? What a horrible movie! I mean, it was actually a movie worth seeing with believable acting, some fun special effects, and an overall, wonderful story of friendship, but there should definitely be a warning on the DVD - "Caution - the sweet, intelligent, compassionate girl you'll grow to love in this movie, suddenly dies at the end! May cause uncontrollable sobbing, sadness, and snotty noses. Do you not watch if you have PMS, or are in a bad mood because your husband blew off your anniversary." I personally like to see movies that are light, entertaining, and don't require too much thinking. There is enough drama in the real world and I have no need to see more of it on the silver screen which is why my all time favorite movie is The Princess Bride :)

OK, enough of my depressed funk. On to other things. We're gearing up to go camping this week. Wait, let me rephrase that. I'M gearing up to go camping. That means, I do forty million loads of laundry, I pack clothes and toiletries for eight people, I grocery shop and cook, I basically move three quarters of my house in to our camper. I'm sure I'll have some stories upon my return as we have yet to go on a camping trip where we don't run into car trouble. One time, a bracket of some sort broke, leaving us stranded at a K-Mart for six hours, one time the truck caught on fire, another time the alternator went out, a different time, the truck kept overheating necessitating the use of the heater in ninety-five degree weather, and yet another time, the camper flipped over, taking our truck with it and rolling it into a ditch. Sheesh, after reading that list, you'd think we would have long since abandoned camping in favor of safer vacations, but we're just gluttons for punishment. Well, that and the fact that there isn't any other kind of vacation where a family of eight can stay for $35 a night!

I don't have a laptop and if I did, my kids would probably bury it in the sand on the beach, use it for a fishing lure, or put it in the campfire to see what would happen, so my blog won't be updated until Monday or Tuesday of next week. I know it's basically just my mom my who reads this, but just in case someone else stumbles upon this by accident, you know why there won't be any updates for a few days.

What's for Dinner?

I have good news! I no longer have a nephew without a name. His name is Dominick. Well, it's not exactly Dominick. It's actually Samuel Dominick, but he won't be called Samuel. Or Sam. Or Sammy. See, my brother-in-law is Sam. He's actually Samuel the 48th or something like that. He wanted a Samuel the 49th. My sister did not. They compromised. He's Samuel on paper, but Dominick in real life. Does any of this make sense? Despite the fact that my sister didn't take any of my kids' name suggestions (Monkey, Lightning McQueen, or Jellybean), she and Sam picked out a good name for their little cutie-pie!

I have some more good news! Baby pooped out five staples this morning (don't ask me how I know exactly how many she passed!) She's none the worse for wear either. When I took her back to the hospital for a repeat x-ray this afternoon, I got to take a look at her x-ray. I wish I had a copy to post on my blog for posterity as it was rather interesting to see yet more staples still in her intestines somewhere. Hopefully, those will make an appearance tomorrow.

And now, for a little dinnertime conversation before I go watch Bridge to Terabithia with the kiddos....

MOM: What did you guys do in school today?
AJ: I don’t like chicken.
MOM: We’re not having chicken.

BOO: Oh! I love chicken! I want a leg!
MOM: This isn’t chicken. We’re having pork chops.
AJ: I don’t like pork chops.
MOM: Since when?
NANA: Oh we’re having chicken?
BOO: I get the leg!
MOM: We’re not having chicken tonight.
BABY: dadadadada
PRINCESS: I just want milk.
BOO: You can’t have milk! We’re having chicken.
SPAZ: My butt itches!
AJ: What is that brown stuff in the rice? I don’t like that.
MOM: There’s no brown stuff. Eat it. So what did you guys do in school?
NANA: This doesn’t taste like chicken.
AJ: It’s not chicken, duh!!! Mom, what’s 483 divided by 14?
MOM: I don’t know, Aj. Put your homework away. It’s time to eat now.
SPAZ: WHEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!!
PRINCESS: Can I have a fruit snack for dinner?
MOM: No, you can’t have a fruit snack. Eat some meat. Spaz, settle down. Princess, tell me what you did in school. Why did you get that stamp on your hand?
PRINCESS: We were, um, in the room, ummm…..
BABY: dadaaaa baba
NANA: Stop kicking, Aj!!!
MOM: What room, Princess?
AJ: I’m not kicking you.
BOO: Can I have more chicken?
PRINCESS: We were at school. Mrs. Milton, ummm, gave us stamps, ummmm, because…..Is that corn?
NANA: Mooom, make Aj stop kicking. He’s kicking the table.
MOM: Nana, pass the corn to Princess, please. Aj stop kicking the table. Spaz stop drinking all your milk and eat. Why did Mrs. Milton give you guys stamps?
NANA: I already have corn.
MOM: I know you do. I asked you to pass the corn to Princess.
SPAZ: TWINKLE TWINKLE LITTLE CAR!
BABY: DA DA DA!!! (as she flings a piece of bread across the table)
AJ, BOO, PRINCESS, SPAZ and NANA: HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! Baby threw her bread! HAHAHAH!!!
MOM: Stop laughing. Don’t encourage her.
BABY: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! (as she throws another piece)
MOM: No baby (as I take her ammunition away)
MOM: So why did you get a stamp, Princess?
PRINCESS: ummm, because I, ummmm was a statue.
MOM: You were a statue? Did you play a statue game in gym?
NANA: I didn’t have gym today.
AJ: She’s talking to Princess, not you!
BOO: Can I be excused?
MOM: No. Finish eating.
PRINCESS: Ummmm no, not in gym. In, ummm Mrs. Milton’s class. We were statues.
MOM: OK you got a stamp on your hand because you were a statue in Mrs. Milton’s class?
PRINCESS: No.
MOM: (under breath) I give up.
AJ: Nana’s chewing with her mouth open and I need $5 for our field trip tomorrow.
NANA: Oh yeah, I need an empty coffee can for a project we’re doing tomorrow.
PRINCESS: Can I have a fruit snack now?
BABY: woof woof woof (as she throws a piece of corn on the floor.)

BOO: Can I have some more chicken?
MOM: Spaz eat, Baby stop throwing food, Nana chew with your mouth closed, Aj, quit kicking the table, Princess, you can’t have a fruit snack, and WE’RE NOT HAVING CHICKEN!

Stomach Stapling

I was talking to my mom on the phone this morning, asking her if my sister had come up with a name for my cute, little nephew when I heard Baby choking in the other room. I ran in, grabbed her, flipped her over and whacked her back. She swallowed whatever it was she'd been choking on and seemed none the worse for wear. She got down and ran off to play like nothing had happened. Just as my pounding heart started to return to normal, I noticed a pile of staples where Baby had been sitting. She must have gotten them out of her older siblings' room. I started thinking that maybe Baby had been choking on staples! I had no idea, but it was sure a possibility since she's one year old and puts everything in her mouth. I called the pediatrician who told me not to give her anything to eat or drink and to get her to the ER immediately. My mind started racing with horrible visions of them having to cut open her tummy to get the staples out. What kind of mom was I that I could let my baby swallow staples?!

So, we went to the ER where they took x-rays and lo and behold, they found many, many staples in her stomach (I half expected them to find Barbie shoes, Polly Pocket clothes, maybe a Lego or two and some pennies as well, but thankfully it was just the staples.) Anyway, they surprisingly don't do anything for swallowed staples. I'm supposed to watch for them to pass and take her for a repeat x-ray tomorrow to see if they've all come out. I thank God that the doctors didn't have to remove them and I'm glad they didn't get stuck in her airway. For now, I just need to get up close and personal with her bowel movements. I can do that.

This gives new meaning to the words "stomach stapling".

I think with this most recent bill, we've officially financed the new wing of our hospital. I think we should have a room named after us.

I'm an Aunt!

My sister just had her first baby! I'm so excited for many reasons!

1. I finally get to be an aunt!

2. It's her and not me this time!

3. Much to my surprise, my kids didn't scare my sister out of ever having kids!

She had him this afternoon and I rushed over to the hospital as soon as I could. That is, after my husband got home from work and we loaded our six kids in the car. Like most hospitals, this one doesn't allow children in the maternity ward unless they're siblings of the newborn, so I went in to see my sister, brother in law, and their brand new baby while my husband "watched" the kids in the main waiting room. I use the term "watched" loosely because apparently they were all kicked out of the hospital by a security guard for being too loud while I was visiting my new nephew. I came out to see them all outside climbing trees. Princess tore up her new skirt and Boo flipped himself over a concrete wall and hurt his back. Then my husband took a turn and went in while I tried get the kids to all calm down and behave after their father had them all wound up.

Anyway, my sister looks great as always and my nephew is so cute! He smells like a little baby and makes those cute little baby sounds and hasn't started talking back yet. I miss that. My kids smell like sweat and dirt and they definitely don't make cute little sounds!

The only problem is that my little nephew doesn't have a name. After nine months, my sister and her husband haven't come up with a name for the poor little guy. So, for now, I'm the VERY PROUD AUNT of little Baby No Name!

(Congrats Web!)

Is it Time for School to Start Yet?

UGH! What a fun few days I've had here. Spaz knocks over my neighbor's motorcycle, the kids are constantly fighting, yelling, and crying. And I've been doing nothing but following them around with a broom. Baby poured a bottle of baby wash on the carpeted floor of my room. Spaz grabbed a bag of Chex Mix by the bottom and dumped the whole thing on the floor. The baby proceeded to slurp the pieces up off the floor like a dog as I swept. Spaz also saw my iron setting out, picked it up, dumping out all the water, and asked me what it was. In all fairness, he was curious since he'd never seen the iron before, as I only iron maybe once a year. Really, who wants to drag out an ironing board? It's much easier to hang the clothing in the shower and blast the hot water to steam the wrinkles out, or even get out your hair straightener to put a crease in your clothes, or better yet - wear nothing but jeans and t-shirts and you never have to worry about ironing.

The baby did nothing but follow me around crying all day and Princess just took out toy after toy leaving behind a veritable mine field of playthings. The older kids fought with each other over the dumbest things. "Huh uh! Spiderman could fly way faster than Harry Potter." "You're wrong! Harry Potter has magic and he could kick Spiderman's butt!"

"No way!"
"Yes way!"

"Mooooom, who can fly faster, Harry Potter or Spiderman?"

Leave it to Spaz to lighten the mood a little. Just when the last little thread of patience was gone, Spaz came walking in my room with a little, pink, plastic Barbie purse over his head. He informed me it was stuck and he couldn't get it off. I pulled on the purse. It didn't budge. Aj pulled on it. It didn't budge. We both started yanking at this little plastic purse, but to no avail. It was totally stuck to Spaz's head. Aj gave it a last ditch effort and pulled so hard on the purse, that Spaz came up off the floor! Aj is standing there holding onto the purse that is so welded onto Spaz's head, that Spaz was lifted off the floor and still the purse didn't move. I grabbed a pair of scissors prepared to hear Princess whine as I cut her precious purse off Spaz's head when finally it came lose.

All I know is that I definitely do not get paid enough to put up with this stuff! And Back to School time can't get here fast enough!

All I Need is my Security Toothbrush

This isn't the best picture, but if you look closely you'll see that my bedspread really needs to be replaced, but that's not what I'm talking about. If you look closely enough, you'll see that my daughter has a lovely bruise on her cheek from falling off the chair on which she was climbing, but that's not what I'm talking about either. If you look very carefully, you'll see that my daughter fell asleep holding her prized posession - a toothbrush. Who needs a blankie or a pacifier when you have a trusty ole toothbrush? Only my kids. @@ The only problem is that the toothbrush belongs (or belongED) to her brother. Ew.

So, I went to the store to buy a replacement for my son. Why are there twenty billion different toothbrushes from which to choose? Why? Is brushing your teeth really such a science? Why exactly are there toothbrushes with little pieces of plastic spiking out from the bristles? Why are there toothbrushes with scrapers to clean your tongue, spinning mechanisms to give your gums a massage, flashing lights and sound chips so you can listen to a tune while cleaning your teeth? Is all that really necessary? With all the money put into toothbrush development, marketing, and advertising, I bet we could wipe out cancer, find a cure for alzheimers, feed the world, and develop a boarding school for toddlers.

Thank God for Rum!

I didn't have time to blog last night because I was too busy researching boarding schools for my three year old. After a nice cocktail or two or fifteen and a good night's sleep, I'm back to tell you about the wonderful day I had yesterday.

First, I must say that my kids have actually been very pleasant this summer. I've only heard "I'm bored" a couple of times, they've been getting along for the most part and they've done an admirable job helping me keep the house clean. All in all this summer has been swell. I knew it would all come crashing to an end soon, but I wasn't prepared for it yesterday. I think there were about ten minutes yesterday when there was no screaming, fighting, or crying. That left the other twenty-three hours and fifty minutes filled with a cacophony that could wake the dead.

The boys decided to take the mattresses off their beds. They proceeded to prop them up on the top bunk and "sled" down onto the floor. This fun game went on until I got wise and realized what they were doing. By then, they'd somehow managed to tear down the curtains and crack the window. It was one of the only windows in the house that's still glass; the others having been replaced by Plexi-glass. At this point I found myself thinking that it wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing if they broke a leg or two, as that would keep them sitting still in one place for a few weeks.

That isn't what had me upset though. What really sent me through the wall (funny I should use this term) is what my three year old did. He and my six year old were outside talking to our next door neighbor, a fifty-something year old man. My six year old loves to have tea parties with him and he dutifully, if less than happily, humors her.

So yesterday, both my three and my six year olds carried loads of play food and dishes outside and arranged them over at his house for the grand soiree. Meanwhile my neighbor ran to the store, leaving his garage open when he left. My three year old, Spaz, with Princess looking on, decided to hop up onto my neighbor's motorcycle. (Yes, this is the same kid who drove a golf cart into our camper.) Anyway, the motorcycle fell over and hit the snow blower which knocked a hole in the garage wall and scratched up the bike. Thankfully my son wasn't crushed beneath the bike.

I tried to keep in mind that he is only three and doesn't know any better. I should've known that he was over there, but I was playing tic tac toe with Boo and helping Nana sew a pillow and I didn't even realize those two were messing around in his garage until my neighbor came knocking on my door a little later.

Well the good news is that my neighbor is a very nice, understanding guy, Spaz is still alive and I still had some coconut mudslide left in the fridge. The bad news is that after all my researching last night, I've discovered that there are no boarding schools for three year olds. Someone get on that, will ya?