Science. And stuff.

When I was little, I wanted to go to the Bermuda Triangle. I also wanted to go to Disney World, so I guess I wasn't too weird. I was just curious. I've always been interested in conspiracy theories, alien life-forms, and strange science and the Triangle has always been such an attractive mystery to me. Well, scientists think they've figured it out. It's cool, but in a way, it's a little disappointing. I guess I'll have to ponder something else now, like where the Earth's magnetic field comes from, or what ball lightning is exactly.

So I guess it shouldn't surprise me that the Hamster wants to be a scientist. I think it's mostly influenced by Bud, who I'm currently designing a "science/space" room for. Don't worry, I'll put pics up when I'm done with it. The Hamster was falling asleep in my room last night so the rest of them could fall asleep peacefully without the tiny night owl laughing maniacally and jumping on their beds. I'm lying there with him and he's telling me all about wanting to be a scientist when he grows up. Why, I ask. Because scientists are good. They help people. They build robots. I wanted to know what he would do with his robot. It would do his chores he answered. Doesn't that sound like a benevolent and humanitarian reason? So the robot can put away the silverware. He continues to tell me about scientists. They spearmint. They walk around. They listen to their moms...

Good boy.

A few shots of my kids, in no particular order. If you're a crazy stalker, please don't steal them. Unless I'm related to you. In which case, carry on.

Mom, I KNOW that my chair cushion is turned the wrong way. Disregard the zipper and just enjoy the awesomeness of your babies in their jammies at 3PM. Also, be glad I didn't put up the pic of Rowlf licking Pickles' face.


posing Pickles

candid Pickles

She couldn't even smile for ONE!

A shot showing Sassafras's personality. "Why are you taking pictures of me again?

BunBun

Bud, looking like his dad. Mom, check out the chin dimples, a la Shannon!

the Hamster and Rowlf

A boy and his dog

Bragging rights and long nights

Sassafras reads 174 words a minute. She's also in the gifted program. The kid is also in 90% for her height, which is pretty cool since I'm only 5'4".

Pickles reads 229. He's not in the gifted program because he decided he didn't like all the extra work.

Bud reads at at an end-of-second grade level. He's the baby of his first grade class with his August birthday. He finishes his work before everyone else and then causes trouble. Sound familiar, Mom?

He has also stayed on "green" for the last three weeks straight. If you have ever met the little guy, you realize that this is quite out of character for him. Also, we're bribing him.

the Hamster writes his name, but thinks his middle name is first name spelled backwards. He can sing the alphabet backwards, and this may be entirely my fault.

I'm thinking the Hamster may be ambidextrous like I am. I actually prayed to have a kid who could write with both hands or be left-handed. Frivolous, I know, but I like them to be a little different. He also has dimples, which I prayed for as well.

Sass made higher than 95% on portions of her ITBS and was invited to take the BESTS test. Anyone know anything about that? I can't decide if it's actually worth doing or not.

James started working in the clinic this school session and has completed the patient requirements while taking care of the kids each evening while I'm in class (every dang night), after his own full 30 credit hour class load for the day. Next session, he needs to see at least 25 patients. He also makes sure to bathe and feed the kids each night AND takes care of all the laundry and dishes. And he's blind. He's a pretty cool guy, if I do say so myself.

I'm nearly finished with a painting that I really like. I'm also incredibly glad that this school session is nearly over, because it is killing me slowly. Which is why I haven't blogged much. I've been working on not drowning and there hasn't been much left over for anything else. So if you're wondering why I haven't been to church functions, a meeting, called you, sent a letter, sent an email, stopped by, sent a carrier pigeon, telepathic message, or smoke signal, put my kids in sports, scouts, or music lessons, or anything else, that's why.

It's not you, it's me.

It is good to know though, that James can pick up my slack and the kids can actually thrive without me being on top of everything.

Hopefully soon, I can blog about some political things, about my amazing visit from 13 people I love dearly, as well as separate visits from James' dad and my mom (all the love!), and how I blinked and missed our Midwestern Fall. After these messages, we'll be riiiiiiiight back!

Hamster and Rowlf
A boy and a dog (and a half)
*the paper airplane was made by the little boy, the chewed egg carton all over the floor was hopefully done by the dog*

Twinkle Toes McTwinkleson


Saturday was Sassafras's dance recital. It has been 5 months of hating dance class to get to the recital. She loves recitals. This is the kid who asked to be a sheep in a play once so her only line would be BAAAAAHHHHHHH. So I don't really understand the fascination with being on stage only for recitals.

So the recital line-up included the usual players:

1. The little girl in pre-tap/ballet who couldn't keep her pants up. By the end of the routine, she was falling over her little glittered bloomers.

2. The little one who was supposed to be some kind of animal, but couldn't see through her mask, so she held it up. And tripped anyway.

3. The litte boy wearing a leopard print top and tight pants. In Jazz 2. Sass says he also has a bright pink DS. Not that there's anything wrong with that...

And Sass. In her blue webbed top over a brown tank (was supposed to be a black tank, was given a black one, I thought the black one was on her body, saw her wearing a brown one in the recital), and her black yoga pants that I hemmed an hour before the recital, she danced with all the enthusiasism that one Sassafras can muster. Which isn't an incredible amount usually. I'm not getting down on my kid, just statin' the facts, Ma'am.

So I made her up. Dance recitals, Mardi Gras, and dates are like the only time your 9 yr.-old kid can wear make-up right? It wasn't over the top, but it was some blush and lip gloss. She was thrilled! I was worried. I saw a few years into the future, and I must say, I didn't like it.

But I'm proud of her. So I'm doing what every proud mother does and putting up a video that only her Grandmomma would really want to watch. It won't hurt my feelings if you don't want to watch it. I don't usually watch videos of your kid either.



She's all the way on the left, Mom. But I'm sure you already knew which one was your baby, right?

Out of the mouths of puppets

I teach kids at church. 4-5 yr. olds. Last Sunday, I taught a lesson on the Word of Wisdom. If you don't feel like clicking on the link, it's a scripture passage relating to ways to keep your body healthy. I helped the kids make paper bag puppets. I drew things all over the board. Vegetables, fruit, a bicycle, a cigarette, a bottle of alcohol, a glass of water...you get the idea. I would point to each thing, and the puppets opened their mouths or closed them according to whether the thing was healthy or not.

What's this?
AN APPLE!
Is it good for you?
YES!
and the puppets, and the children, (and I) would open our mouths really wide.

What's this?
A CUP OF COFFEE!
Is it good for you?
ONLY FOR MOMS AND DADS! (this from a little girl named Ella)
uh, ok, well, it's not really good for moms and dads either, but ok...
and everyone closed their mouths.

What's this?
WE DON'T KNOW!
OK, well, it's alcohol. It's no good for you. It's makes you unhealthy. You want to close your pupp-
OH NO!!! MY PUPPET JUST DRANK ALCOHOL!!!!
What? Uh, your puppet can repent later. Moving on...



As I was typing this, I look over and Hamster has a pair of scissors to Rowlf's (our dog) tail.

I love kids.

For Sale

One sister for sale!
One sister for sale!
One crying and spying young sister for sale!
I'm really not kidding,
So who'll start the bidding?
Do I hear a dollar?
A nickel?
A penny?
Oh, isn't there, isn't there, isn't there any
One kid who will buy this old sister for sale,
This crying and spying young sister for sale?
-Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends


This poem kind of relates how Sassafras and I have been getting along lately. Who knew her teenage years would start the day she was born? She has always been a hand-ful, and sometimes two. Sometimes even an extra leg-ful, or whatever rope-I-can-grab-ful.

Sass used to wander away in a store, let's just say Walmart, and not look back. Before she was one. James or I would follow her at a safe distance and watch to see what she was doing. She would never turn around.

To say she is independent is an understatement.

She walked at 8 months. She stood up from the middle of the floor and took two steps.

She sang several songs before she was one. I'm not just using Mommy Memory, we have a recording of it.

She broke both of her arms, in two separate incidences, before she was 4 and a half. One required pins and left a 4 inch scar. I asked the Dr. if perhaps she had delicate bones. No, they're fine, says he, just don't let her climb to the top of the tree, or dance across the back of the couch, or jump off of the podium at church. Let her? LET her? Riiiiiiiiiiiggggggghhhhhhht.

She has continued to make our lives interesting. She practices piano daily, without being asked, now that she no longer takes lessons. Did she practice while taking lessons? HA! Only when we duct-taped her to the piano bench.

Sass is our only brown-eyed child. They're not just brown though. They're deep and intense and they actually twinkle when she's happy, and smolder when she's furious.

She coins her own words. Yestertime, Having a tiny-little good time, and Barefooting (verb), among others, have firmly secured themselves in our family vocabulary.

She can sing really well, but usually chooses to create feline-opera noises at the top of her voice instead.

Sassafras has also always been concerned with making sure that everyone is included. It may have something to do with me, but she probably came that way. As a tiny girl, she would bring portions of cake/cookie/candies home to her brothers from a party or play date that only she was invited to.

She read the entire Harry Potter series before she turned 9.

When I read over this post, I'm reminded what a good, sweet, funny, intelligent person she is. Maybe I should just write down or mentally list all the things that make her so great more often. Maybe I won't sell her.

Although, the next time she is pissing me off with her nasty attitude, feel free to make me an offer...

We made colored eggs the other night. I'm trying to make the holiday last as long as possible. While theses pics aren't nearly the quality of Mama Howerton's, they'll do. Disregard the shirtless little boys, and be glad Sassafras didn't take her shirt off as well.

Hamster enjoying himself.

Pickles, making another pink egg, because 3 weren't enough.

Bud, using his fingers.

Pickles with one of his pink eggs.

Sass and her happy egg.

Were you good? Or if you weren't, did you at least avoid getting caught?

OK, then. I'll share some more of the amazing pics Mama Howerton took last Saturday.

I'm putting up the ones she changed to B&W, and then a few of all of them together.

My very cool friend watched our kids the other day when James and I went to the temple. She's very good at photography, especially with children. *Thank you, thank you, thank you!* These are just a few of the pics she took. If you're really good, maybe, just maybe, I'll post some more later.

This one is of Sassafras. It's not one of the prettier ones, but it's so natural. I can't believe Mama Howerton got such a relaxed one of Sass when she knew she was being photographed.

Here's a posed one. Check out those freckles!

Mr. Pickles...

Pickles and his friend Chan. Pickles looks slightly psycho.

Sweet Bud

You can click on this one to see his freckles - they match Sass's!

Hamster smiling - his usual expression :)

Hamster and Eugene - HA!

I'm still sick. I went to the doctor and she told me the best thing for me is a camera.

I skipped school today. I got up to take the kids to their schools and came back to bed. I slept until 1PM. It was great. But not enough to cure me. I'll probably try to sleep more tomorrow.

Since trying to come up with a good post is as easy for me right now as trying to run through jello would be, I'll just share a few kidling conversations we've had lately.

me: Stop trying to ride the dog!
Hamster: Buh, he WIKES it!

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Bud: There's that graveyard you take us to sometimes, Mom.
me: Sure is.
Bud: I like going there for picnics, to take walks, to color on the tombstones...
(for the record, we do rubbings, we do NOT color the headstones)
me: Yeah, it's nice.
Bud: When can we go there again?
me: When it's warm out again.
Bud: When can we dig up one of the graves?
me: (fully becoming aware of the convo rather than half-listening) WHAT!?!?!?
Bud: I want to dig up a grave.
me: What? WHY?
Bud: You know, to see a body.
me: Yeah, you know Bud, we're not going to do that. When we go, it's important to be respectful of the people who died. We don't dig up bodies, Dude.
Bud: (quietly) awwww, man

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Pickles: There's a kid at school whose eyebrows make a point over the middle of his nose.
me: That's called a unibrow. U-N-I-B-R-O-W. 'uni' means one.
Pickles: OK, so anyway, this kid with the eyebrows called me a wiener dog.
me: Oh yeah? What did you say?
Pickles: I thought it was funny and I also think wiener dogs are cute.
me: Did you say that you thought wiener dogs are cute?
Pickles: No, I just thought it.
me: You probably shouldn't go around saying things are cute so much at school.

*****************************
This is normally where I would put a funny story about Sassafras. Lately, however, the things she's been saying have been a lot more obnoxious than funny. Oh well, I guess she doesn't get to be famous this week.

I thought about posting yesterday. I had a good one brewing in my head about the relationship between government policy becoming softer on drugs while simultaneously becoming more powerful and controlling in other areas. I wanted to examine how Americans are quite happy with giving up their freedoms as long as they have their opiate, so to speak. I may still do that one soon.

But yesterday I came home to a for sale sign in the yard. I called our landlord, asking what the hell was up with that. He sort of chuckled and said the realtor wasn't supposed to put up the signs until we'd been told. Bad form, jerk, bad form.

Because we didn't sell our house in GA until a year ago, we couldn't buy a house here when we moved 3 years ago. So we've been renting. Well, we couldn't buy last year either, because for 2 years, we haven't had a significant source of income due to both James and I being students. So at this point, we have a few options, and none of them sound very appealing. We can buy a house, but it has to be in a crappy neighborhood and/or cost just a few K, OR go back to a teeny apartment only suitable for hobbits, OR move 20 miles out of town, OR hide and cry. Posting on my blog wasn't really an option yesterday.

What do y'all think? Any ideas?

On a lighter note, I think a sense of humor can be somewhat genetic. Situations that strike a person as funny stimulate the brain a certain way, releasing dopamine, and other feel-good enzymes, in a particular quantity or in a particular area. Since DNA contains the "blueprint" for a person's brain structure, then it stands to reason that a kid would come hardwired similarly to their parents. And then nurture comes into play later. Pickles used to constantly ask if things were funny. "Is that so funny, Mama? Is that so funny?"

What made me take note of this was Hamster tonight. In our bad parent moments, we let Hamster stay up past his bedtime. He's very much a night owl (thanks, Mom) and sometimes we get tired of fighting it. So we're watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail for the 253rd time. Hamster, in his three-year old glory, burst out laughing as King Arthur came on the screen riding an invisible horse and his page clapped coconut shells together. "No horse, Mom! There's no horse!"

Conversations with Pickles

Pickles: I think I'd like a Marine Iguana for a pet. (As I mentioned in previous posts, the subject of what-I-want-for-a-pet is a popular discussion around here)
Bud: I want a ta-NAN-tula.
Pickles: It's ta-RAN-tula, Bud, geesh!
me: Bud, when you're 8. Pickles, Marine Iguanas need the sea. That's why they're marine iguanas.
Pickles: I guess a regular iguana is OK.
me: we'll talk later.

*******************************

Pickles: Can a killer whale eat Dad?
me: I suppose, if Dad were in the water and the killer whale was hungry.
Pickles: Well, I hope that doesn't happen.
me: Yeah, me too.

*******************************

Pickles: When we go back to GA, can we live next door to GrandMomma?
me: No.
Pickles: Oh, well, can we live down the street from her?

*******************************

Pickles: There's this kid, um... There's this kid at school, um... This kid at school... He, um... He said, um... This kid at school said, um... Hey Mom?
me: What?
Pickles: What was I saying?
me: That you love me
Pickles: Oh yeah!

*******************************

Pickles: Mom, today at recess Mrs. Smith was giving everyone balls. When I asked for one, she said NO! I went off by myself and cried a little.
me (trying not to call this lady an ass for making my sweet Pickles cry): Oh no! I'm sorry honey.
Pickles: And then she came and said, Thanks for telling me that Ricky was biting people. Mom, that doesn't even make sense! I didn't say that. She ruined recess.
me: Well, maybe she's dumb. Grownups can be dumb too. (possibly not the best response, but much tamer than what I was thinking) Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she had a giant bug bite on her behind and it was itching and making her crazy. Having an itchy butt can make you pretty crazy.
Pickles: Really?
me: Definitely. Whenever some teacher is being crazy for no reason, just assume she has an itchy butt.
Pickles: Ok, thanks.
me: Anytime buddy, anytime.

Snow Day Sledding

This is what we do for fun here too. It's not all watching cars try to make it up really big hills.


Pickles rolling around in the snow


I took a camp stove and made hot chocolate on a picnic table



Hamster was done with sledding early and decided to play with his trains in the car



Yes. I took a picture of Pickles crying. It will be filed with the pictures I have of Pickles crying at the zoo, the museum, the library, the amusement park, fireworks displays, etc. It's for posterity. So when he's a daddy and he whines about having a whiny kids later on, I'll have proof that he is getting what he deserves. Uh, I mean, he's just sensitive.



This is what Bud did while the rest of us were sledding. He doesn't like to be cold. Smart kid.

The reason there are no close-ups of Sassafras is because she was sledding down the hill with our friends while I was taking care of three little boys who didn't want to have any fun. Hopefully our friend *hint, hint* will email any pics she took of Sass.