Secret Evil Foot

So, I know you're dying to know about the foot thing. (Um... or not.)

Well, it's been a full seven days without any foot complaints. Could be coincidence. Could be the "magic" bar of soap. Could be the placebo affect. Could be that we'll hear about the foot again tonight.

We did measure the children though, and since April, E has grown an inch and a half (which might explain why she's shot from size 2T to 4 in less than four months), and D has grown an incredible three inches!

For posterity, a conversation with E:
E: Mom, so... if you don't have a chimney, how does Santa get in your house?
Me: He goes through the keyhole.
E: Oh. What if you don't have a chimney or a keyhole?
Me: Everyone has a chimney or a keyhole. (Reconginizing now that the correct response was, "Magic." I maintain a B- average in parenting.)
E: What if a bad bad witch comes and she flies away with all of the chimneys and all of the keyholes?
Me: Well, Santa always finds a way.
E: He does!?!?


Can we take a moment to notice that this is JULY?

Not Breaking News

Damn, Anderson Cooper is hot.

That's all.

Shhh...

So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I'm reading Harry Potter and Harry Potter doesn't keep.

(Adapted from Song for a Fifth Child by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton)

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Hello everyone.
I think I've neglected one major duty to you all when I moved Neno's Blog to it's new home.

For those of you unable to get her news feeds please resubscribe to them in a manner suitable to your preferred news aggregator.

My apologies to Neno for leaving her and her readers in the dark!

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Damn. Foot.

Again.

Desperate.

Enough.

For.

This.

For Christ's Sake

I tried to take the children to church last night. Why? Because I'm freakin' brain damaged, that's why. It's all the reality TV. It has made me dumb.

Also, because everyone else is capable of taking their children to church. And I should be able to do what everyone else does, right?

And this is how it went:
No!
Shhhh!
Sit!
Stop that!
Turn around!
NOOOOOOO! You! Can't! Color! In! The! HYMNAL!
If you can't sit down, you won't get to have quiet time before bed!
(repeat ad nauseam)

So. That was fun. Also, D drew a big blue crayon line down the front of my skirt. What am I supposed to do with that?

Look at My Bloomers!

Well, in case you feel the need to delve even more deeply into my personal life, I have a new blog. It's about how poor we are and how we're trying to get out of debt and also live la vida gluten free. (Okay, sorry, that made no sense. A little Ricky Martin is still WAY. TOO. MUCH.)

http://glutenfreefrugal.blogspot.com/

Not for everyone. But some of you might care. Or not.

More

I grew up alone. I was a caboose baby, 10 and 12 years behind my siblings. My parents worked and travelled a lot. My sisters were busy all the time being teenagers that played sports and were in band and oral interp and drama and cheer leading and flag corps and worked part time and...

Even though I had three siblings, I wished desperately for another. How very much I wanted, for all the annoyance and struggle of it, to share my bedroom with a sister. I wanted matching Easter dresses and whispered secrets and someone who walked the same path to the same school.

Instead, I had three extra mothers in my sisters. People who babysat me and were annoyed by me and sent me outside to play when they had boys over. And who were gone by the time I was eight anyway, when suddenly, so suddenly the house was too quiet.

I can't really describe how happy it makes me to see how close my kids are. Not just in age, but they are so very connected to one another. They play and share and their experiences are all colored by the other having been there.

Any time they are separated, they miss each other. E isn't so sure she wants to go to school in the fall because she'll miss us, including her brother.

And it makes me want to have another baby. But I know that, no matter what, there will always be a last baby. And there will always be the baby we didn't have.

And how very, very blessed we are to have choices like these.

Assphemy

Neno: (Catching husband up on episode of Nip/Tuck) Okay, so she has the stigmata and her feet just started bleeding even though she didn't have anything to use to stab her own feet with and then they tested the blood and it WASN'T EVEN HERS.

Husband: (Not caring.) Farts.

Neno: Oh my god! Was that your gas or Jesus' gas? You might have the STINKmata!!!

Seriously, I feel sorry for him sometimes.