The End is Near

Art Camp

The title might lead you to believe I'm talking about the whole gloomy 2012 Mayan Calender/end of the world thing. Nothing could be further from the truth; it's a rallying cry to all you stay-at-home moms who have trudged through NINETY, sweltering, endless days of summer vacation and never once had Child Protective Services called to your home.  School is just around the corner! Summer is almost over! The finish line is within sight!  Make it your mantra as the little darlings bicker about  who actually saw the slug-bug first, or when they're disputing precisely what would happen if we were sucked into a black hole, or what Santa might or might not deem acceptable on a Christmas list.  Congratulate yourself for having been a successful cruise director on a seemingly interminable voyage with surly, impatient, egomaniacs as your passengers.

 I  suggest you nonchalantly have your kids reminisce with you all the fun things you did together (chalk drawing, making cookies, going to the matinee, water pad, pool, picnics etc).  Seriously.  Get out a big poster board and write it all out, then have them color  pictures by each event.  Why?  Because on the first day of school, the teacher is going to ask them what they did for summer vacation and they are going to draw a blank and write something like, "we didn't do anything except watch TV and play video games."   It doesn't matter if you took them on a voyage to the space station Meir, they.will.NOT.remember!   Forewarned is forearmed, people.

4th of July Parade

Cub Scout Camp

Lemonade Stand

Dallas Trip

Sprinklers

Critters

We've been living in these here parts for well over a year now so we've had time to learn a few things.  First off, deer are protected and therefore very prolific in our neighborhood.  We toss all our fruit and veggie peelings in the back yard and within 30 minutes, we have at least 2 or 3 deer nibbling away.  Sometimes, we even hand feed a few of the tamer ones.  When we have guests over, they get all giddy if they go out Mama the doe eats right out of their hands.  It's really awesome until you realize that not only will they eat your watermelon rinds in the summer and your jack-o-lantern leavings in the fall, but everything you might plant all year long.  Rats with hooves every.single.oneofthem.

In the spring, we have March of the Tarantulas.  Apparently they migrate every year RIGHT PAST OUR HOME.  Really freaky until you find out that  they aren't poisonous (much), nor  aggressive, and they will kill scorpions--who are about six notches higher on the creepy scale than tarantulas.  What, you didn't know there was a Creep-o-Meter?  It varies from region to region, but in Texas lake country it looks like this:

  

10. Wolf spiders (they're big but not big time poisonous)

  9. Cockroaches (you know, the really BIG ones-*shiver*)

  8. Tarantulas (big and hairy, but the only ones on the list that kills another item on the list)

  7. Ticks (courtesy of the deer)

  6. Mosquitos (the whole West Nile hysteria)

  5. Wasps and Africanized bees  (very grumpy and stingy)

  4. Centipedes (they've been supersized and measure between 8-12")

  3. Scorpions (Satan's little minions)

  2. Rattle snakes (at least they give you a warning)

  1. Water Moccasins (who are aggressive and territorial which makes swimming in the lake an adventure every.SINGLE. time)

On the domestic side of Critterville is the pooch.  He's fluffy on the outside but all ninja on the inside.  He'll take on anything from a Great Dane to a tarantula.  We make sure he's inside come nightfall so he doesn't become a cougar hors d'oeuvres.  Yep, there's been sightings of the big cats here.  So though he runs off the local yokels with ferocious glee (squirrels, deer and the occasional cat), he never fails to welcome all humans as long lost pals. It's embarrassing, really.

One of the newer additions to our family is a Fancy Russian Dwarf Hamster named Misty.  She's so soft, you want to have 3,000 just like her so you can skin them and make a nice fur coat...but you wouldn't of course because that would be vile and inhumane and ooooh soooo plush...

Also, as of last month, we have two she-rats.  They've got names, but I just call them Poopy Pants and Not  So Poopy Pants.  Because they poop. On you.  Repeatedly. While you're holding them.    They're not pictured here because they are quick and inquisitive--a bad combination when trying to take pictures. Ask any parent of a two-year-old.

I know the kids will give this entry poor reviews if I fail to mention we also have two Japanese Fighting Fish. In separate tanks, of course so all you PETA gorillas can stand down.  You can Google it if you want to see them.  Oh, never mind, here's a link because you and I both know you're not going to look it up:
http://www.petco.com/product/113356/Red-Male-Crowntail-Betta.aspx

It is my sincere hope that there will be no more beasties added to our menagerie.  Hannah would very much like to keep a gecko and a lizard but has grudgingly conceded to a "catch and release" program.  I wouldn't mind a gecko loose in the house since they prey upon bugs, but I draw the line at salmonella. I know...  I'm heartless.

Unabashed Plagiarism

I've really been trying to find something to write about, but we have no entertaining stories to share. I blame the children. They're not trying hard enough to amuse me. Lucky for you, Hannah's teacher had the class write letters from the point of view of a fairy tale character back in January, so I'm just going to pass Hannah's writing along as my post.

Dear Granny and Red,

I am the wolf that ate Granny and I have a few things to say. First of all, I have a name. It is Winston, not "The Wolf". Also, I was extremely hungry that day, and you Red, took a perfectly good meal away.

Another thing, was it really necessary to bring the rocks into the whole process? I mean it's bad enough you had to give me SURGERY without an ANESTETIC. But filling me up with rocks? Really?! Do you realize how LONG it takes to DIGEST those things?! You could have just told me about the burger joint 3 blocks away. I didn't even know it exsisted until I fell into the river, then a passing turtle family (the same ones who rescued me, mind you) told me about it. But after surgery by non-certified doctors, half drowning, and being dissed by a FISH, I wasn't in the mood for a burger. So next time you see a hungry wolf, just tell him about that joint. Saves a lot of trouble.

Sincerly,

Winston the Wolf

The first time I read it, I was subbing at the kids' school and Hannah's teacher let me have a sneak peek. She showed me two other of her "top" stories and of course, my daughter's was the most cleverly written. Unfortunately, the teacher didn't post the grade on it nor leave any remarks. I leave that for you to do in the comments section:

The Eighties

In a movie we were watching, there was a reference to Budda being unavailable. I explained to Logan that it was funny because Budda had lived thousands of years ago and was therefore, dead--which was why he was unavailable. He wanted to make sure he understood and asked, "Budda lived hundreds of years ago?"
"Yes, hundreds and HUNDREDS of years ago," I confirmed
"So, did he lived back in the '80's?" he asked. With a chuckle, I agreed, "Yeah, back in the '80's."

So all of you born in the '80's or before,---welcome to being classified as ancient history.

Family Dynamics Defined

Recently, we've been trying to encourage Logan to speak more, which means Hannah is required to give him more opportunities to speak. Imagine trying to get a girl to quit talking so she can ponder what a boy thinks... As you can see, it's nearly an impossible task.

Logan best illustrated this while I was helping him learn his spelling words last week. On one particularly ticklish word, he was having trouble sorting out which vowels to use first in the word "fuel". I explained that we could hear the long U sound, but that U needed another vowel to help him "say his name". I trotted out the well worn reminder, "When two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking...and the second one says nothing at all." He watched as I circled the letter U and softly crossed out the letter E to indicate that E says nothing at all. Pointing to the U, he said, "That one's Hannah" then he pointed to the E, "and that one's me."

Gingerbread House Set Backs

I love the tradition of having the children decorate a gingerbread house during Christmas. The only part I DON'T love is trying to get gingerbread (which I don't even like) to stand up and behave while we're trying to decorate it. To avoid the seething and cursing brought on by gingerbread architecture, I've used a wooden-type structure for EONS and just stuck candy to that. Sadly, I can't find it this year. It's AWOL after our last move from Cheyenne. No worries, I'll just use a small cardboard box as the house, construct a roof, cover it with gingerbread and let the children stick candy to it. How hard could it be?

Using my long lost Bosch mixer, I started assembling the ingredients. When I got to the part about two tablespoons of vanilla extract, I knew I would have to open the new one I had bought a few months back. It's not premium stuff, but I reasoned that by the time we get to eating this cookie after Christmas, it's going to be pretty stale so why bother? I grabbed the plastic bottle it came in and cracked the seal of the cap. As I poured the first tablespoon into my lovely butter/sugar mix, I was shocked to see it was RED!! Who's ever heard of red vanilla extract? I looked more closely at the bottle and realized I had grabbed the little bottle of red wine that I got on my flight back home from England! SNAP, do I throw away three cups of sugar and two cups of butter or do I carry on? My frugal side (which is very bossy) reasoned that I wasn't planning on eating that stale ol' house anyway, and besides, even if the kids ate it, the alcohol would have cooked out...

Raise your hand if you think I just added the proper amount of real vanilla extract to the bowl and carried on.  If you're even contemplating raising your hand, you're right.


Once everything was mixed in their proper proportions, I greased a 9 x 12 jelly roll pan and filled it with the dough...twenty minutes later (about the time I'm typing the part about the wine), I smell scorching cookies. Completely unaware of the disaster I was about to discover, I scurried into the kitchen to investigate. The cookie dough had risen, and RISEN! Then it spilled over the edges of the jelly roll pan, then it accumulated at the bottom of the oven where it continued to bake, and then scorch. Yes, it's very trying being me. And this is the easy part, I remind myself. I haven't even gotten to the part where I try and make this stuff stick to the cardboard.

Maybe I'll just go have a peek in the garage for that gingerbread house form...




UPDATE:  Because I'm me and used to improvising due to my own mistakes, we eventually DID complete a "Gingerbread" house for Christmas.  When my supportive, loving husband walked in the door from work that evening and saw the unfinished house, he crooned, "Oh, it's like a little sod house!"

Sod Christmas Cabin

Tarted up Sod Cabin 

"Much Too Good For Children"

I've never felt any kind of guilt in denying my children top shelf stuff. For example, when having a barbecue, I don't hesitate throwing on some hot dogs for the kids while the grown ups have rib eye-steaks. At restaurants, kids order from the lame children's menu which invariably offers wooden-like chicken nuggets, overcooked mac and cheese and possibly a limp "cheese" pizza as their choices while we adults sample their $15 a plate specialties. They can have the Yoplait fat free yogurt and I get the thick, creamy, Australian yoghurt. Yes, it's even spelled differently, it's THAT good. I know that sounds like I'm a bad parent, but I was given carte blanche to continue in this vein earlier this week.

Our lovely friends from England, the Martins, sent some Hotel Chocolat for the kids. For us peasants who've never heard of Hotel Chocolat (please say with me, "Ho-tel Sho-ko-LAUD"), it is not made in a candy shop. Noooo, the artisans who create these edible miracles are bona fide "chocolatiers"... I know, fancy. Allow me to put this in lay man's terms, it is like high grade crack to those who know their way around premium chocolates. Anyway, I handed over these confectionery masterpieces to the children and Hannah came back to croon, "These are SOO good! They're just like Hershey's chocolate."

Bam. I'm in the clear. I could have kept the high dollar, black label chocolat for myself, handed over a Hershey's bar and they would have never. known. the difference. So parents, keep the steaks, the expensive entrees, the gourmet yoghurt to yourselves and give the kids the sorry substitutions, they are completely oblivious.