The Puddles

After speaking with my sister Debra tonight, she vetoed any idea of posting what was going on with Miss A.  Something about how this would come back to her when she was older and embarrass her.  (It hate it when the third child sticks up for the third child!) So let’s just say that Ainsley has not been feeling good lately in the lower region of her body, but she saw the doctor today and we have a plan of action to deal with it.

Whew!  I will be glad when something happens with my children that is absolutely normal.  I remember as a child that every year my mom would fill out the medical form for Girl Scouts and there was never anything interesting on it.  I never went to the hospital, never had any major illnesses, wasn’t allergic to anything . . . boring, boring, boring.  I would wish for something interesting to happen so that I had something to write in on the “medical history” portion of the form.  My children will never, may I repeat, NEVER have that issue.  Our issue will be whether the form has enough space to put everything on it or should we just hit the highlights of their medical dramas.  All three of my children have had every weird disease known to man.  Rashes that no doctor can identify.  Fevers of unknown origins.  A dozen or more emergency room visits between the three of them for things that weren’t terrible or bloody but just plain unusual.   When I worked as a school administrator in Ohio, I had a poster in my office listing childhood illnesses with information about each one.  If that was a list of goals to accomplish, we would have officially succeeded in completing the list.

But as much as I lament about our frequent trips to the doctor (you know it’s bad when the entire staff of the clinic greets your children by name when they come in), I know that this too shall pass.  Childhood is so fleeting.  Besides . . . as my grandpa likes to tell me, “Katherine if you didn’t have a story to tell, you wouldn’t have anything to say.”  And my children have given me plenty.

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Tonight while we were reading books in the living room before bed I smelled something funny.  Not wanting to interrupt our nightly reading I continued without stopping.  Ben on the other hand pinched his nose and said, “What’s that beer smell?”  Thinking that having Ben equating beer with a bad smell was a good thing in the short term, I did nothing to dissuade his opinion.  But by the end of the last chapter, I was beginning to think the smell was not just my imagination but that there was something truly wrong outside.

I figured that the offending skunk was probably not still in the backyard since Rosie never once looked upset while she sat next to us the living room.  (And trust me she is very territorial.  She would have said something if she saw it.)  When I opened the backdoor, the smell was there.  I called Chris to warn him to come home through the front door.  He, of course, wants me to go see if the skunk is in the garage.  Are you kidding me?!!  I’m not going to actually TRY to find the skunk.  That is a recipe for disaster!  Chris is worried that if the skunk is in the garage that we have now purchased a skunky smelling double oven, and we won’t be able to return it tomorrow as planned.  So that line and that line only convinced me to go look.  I am too frugal and upset about the oven to have some skunk mess with my oven plans.

Luckily I don’t think that the skunk is in the garage.  But the smell is.  It is a cold night.  I think that the smell is more acute because of the cold.  That skunk could be anywhere.  But I think that I will wait until morning to find out where it is.

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Our Girl Scout troop made extra cinnamon ornaments to give to a nursing home.  We didn’t have time to make too many extra gift bags so my cherubs volunteered to decorate additional gift bags.  They pulled out the glitter glue and went to work.

We had to delay the delivery date of the gifts in order to allow the glue to dry.  Let’s just say that the kids were a little enthusiastic with the glitter glue.  24 hours later and some are still wet.  But they sure are pretty!

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See my nails! Aren't they pretty?

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

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My two sweet angels were angels in the Church Christmas Program on Sunday.  Ainsley truly “hammed it up.” A star in the making.  The ironic part of that story is that for the hour prior to the program she wanted nothing to do with singing.  She went from one loving set of arms to another lamenting her woes and claiming that her tummy hurt.  I told her that if she sang I would let her climb into my bed at home and watch Disney channel all afternoon.  I would like to think that that did the trick.  But only when all of the other kids were up there did Ainsley decide to go.  She truly put on a show! Where was that sad little girl with her tear stained face?  She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to amaze her audience with her talents!

Madie enjoyed herself too but was slightly preoccupied by the fact that no one mentioned her birthday that morning during Sunday school opening.  It is her birthday on Friday (in case you hadn’t heard . . . I am pretty sure that she put an ad out in the newspaper) and she has only obsessed about it since her birthday last December.  She has been looking in the mailbox every day for a week looking for mail with her name on it.  So of course, no mention on Sunday was not good.  Many reassurances from some caring adults at church that we would do it next Sunday made her feel a little better.  She too loves the stage.

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My new double oven arrived from Sears today.  It is pretty.  The nice gentlemen from Sears brought it into my garage and we examined the oven together to make sure that it was the right one and that the stainless steel wasn’t scratched.  After the nice gentlemen left, I thought to myself “I wonder what the inside of the oven looks like.”  Then it all went downhill from there.

You see, I purchased the oven the night before Ben went into the hospital.  I had thought that our current avocado green oven had died (which is, by the way, another hilarious story of stupidity on my part)  and that I needed an oven by Christmas.  I was under a lot of pressure from outside sources to hurry up and get a new one ordered.  So on a whim (even though I had done a ton of research), I stopped at the Sears store an ordered an oven.  There are not any floor models of the size that I was looking for (24″ double oven), so I purchased the item via a book along with my great salesperson.  I made sure that the oven would fit in our cabinet.  I measured and remeasured.  So when I bought the oven, I looked at the cutout dimensions and all of the other dimensions but . . . I never paid attention to the inside depth dimensions.

In other words, half of my pans and ALL of my cookie sheets DO NOT FIT inside the new oven.  The experience of finding this out left me stunned but not speechless for I taught Ben a new word today . . . “son of b—“-.  I quickly informed him that Mommy was wrong and don’t ever say that word.  I was mad.  Chris would tell you that that is an understatement.  I wanted this oven project to be finished.  But now I have to deal with the bad oven.

So . . .

1.  Returning a 200 lb. oven is not easy.   2.  There is going to be a lot of paperwork involved.  And most importantly . . .  3.  Don’t assume that your new oven is going to have the same measurements as your 30+ year old oven.

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for Madie.  First off, last night was officially the “best day of her life.” (Her words.)  Her Aunt Debra (and Uncle David helped by watching Gordon) took her to see “The Sound of Music” last night at the Hobby Center for her birthday.  This was a huge deal (she got all dressed up with “real jewelry and pantyhose”) and ever so special for our little Miss Madie.  She feel asleep with a huge smile on her face.

Now she is chanting, “Nobody loves me! This is the worse day ever. You only turn 8 years old once in your life.  I shouldn’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do.”  Then go back to the beginning and repeat.  Granted she is tired from last night’s event. But good gracious. This is dramatic even for Madie.  I had to send her out of the room while I giggled to myself.  Is it cruel to videotape her right now in order to show her this tape when her daughter is going through this? It is so serious for her,  but it truly is hilarious.

I have shut the door to the office and told the children that “Mommy needs a time out now.  Leave me alone for five minutes.” I just need to be by myself for a few moments and let out a good smile and hearty laugh while I try to maintain decorum in this crazy life of ours!

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We were not going to see Santa this year.  Ben can’t be in public yet. But . . . Santa came through the neighborhood riding the firetruck with the sirens blaring.  We all had to go now.

So we loaded everyone up and headed to the gazebo where Santa was.  Chris stayed in the car with Ben while the girls and I waited in line.  When it was time, Chris and Ben joined us to talk to Santa.

Madie wrote her list down for Santa.  There were 18 items on the list.  The elf told Madie that of course Santa would get it all for her.  The elf and I need to talk.  I think that Madie will be mostly satisfied.  Hopefully.  Ainsley asked for a Barbie truck and barbies (there is a crisis story there about Santa’s helper looking until 2am at 7 different store for the item without luck.  Don’t worry the story ends well.). Ben wants a double action star wars light saber.  Luckily I think all of the children will be happy.

I wish that Ben didn’t have to wear a mask to talk to Santa, but Santa saw a lot of people and we were already breaking the rules big time by taking Ben to see Santa.  So give us a spanking and send us to bed without dinner because it was worth it and I’d do it again.

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After we visited Santa, Daddy began talking to the fireman who brought Santa to the gazebo.  He walked away with a glint in his eye.  I think he’s hooked! It would be good for Daddy to have something non-church to do.

I took Ben and loaded him in the truck when Daddy started to talk about how many calls that fire department run every year.  Time for me to go.  Ben, Ainsley and I sat in the truck and waited for Daddy to finish talking shop.

It was good to see Chris excited again about being on a rescue squad.

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I was working on baking on Saturday.  The kids were quiet.  You appreciate the quiet for about five minutes and then you begin to worry.  I went looking for my cherubs/devils, and found them in the closet under the stairs.  They were playing house.  They were having a good time.  They played in there for hours.

I don’t know how they even all fit in there.  They all had assigned spaces. Yes . . . that is Ainsley tucked in there. I was starting to feel claustrophobic just taking their picture.  How did they stay in there for all that time.

I love the fact that my kids have wonderful imaginations.  They had a great time!  Even if it was in a closet.

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