"O Cricket From Your Cheery Cry . . . "

"O cricket from your cheery cry, no one would ever guess how quickly you must die." ~ by Basho

Abby used to be really into dress-up and Barbies and all the princessy stuff. But lately, she has become obsessed with bugs.

The other day, Steve came across her and her friend, Andi (the bishops daughter), outside on the driveway torturing a cricket. They had cut it in half. Of course, he was horrified that his sweet little girl was outside torturing bugs. When he told her that wasn't nice, she said, "Its leg was broken so it had to die." The cricket was missing a leg, so they pulled off its other one (I guess to help it walk straight???). Then they cut its head off "to put it out if its misery." See, her intentions were good. At least to begin with. They ended up carrying the cricket's head around inside of an acorn cap, kind of like Jiminy's head on a platter. I'm sure it wasn't her idea; you know what they say about the bishop's kids!

Today, she came inside and told me excitedly that she'd found a whole bunch of worms (it rained last night). She said so innocently, "I put them in a cup with some water and bark, and now they have lots of friends! Except one keeps trying to get out." The nerve of that one for trying to get out! She also fed them some dirt.

A couple of hours later, when we left for school, she said a bit anxiously, "I forgot to say goodbye to my new pets."

"What new pets?"

"My worms!" (duh, Mom)

" . . . oh"

After she thought about it for a minute, she decided, "That's okay. They're probably sleeping anyway."

I guess we're the proud new family to a cup of worms!

When I came home from running errands this afternoon, she was outside digging in the dirt again, probably looking for more worms. She had a couple of leaves stuck to her nose that make her look like she's turning into a katydid - must be her budding X-men persona.

Sam Loves His Ba

This is what poor Sam has to resort to when his bottle gets left in his crib. He tried to pull it out first, but it wouldn't fit through the slats. Must be kind of like having your best friend in jail.

Abby's First Day of Kindergarten

I just dropped Abby off at school for her first day of kindergarten. The rest of the kids started school a week ago, so she has been anxiously counting down the days since then. She is in afternoon kindergarten which doesn't start until 12:40, but she got up this morning and was dressed before anyone else. Of course, she had to get undressed again to get a shower, but she still gets an A+ for effort. After she was re-dressed and had her hair done, she put her backpack on, and she has worn it for the rest of the day. When I got home from taking Sarah to school at 9:00 this morning, Abby came out to the car and said, "I'll just wait in the car" (for 3 1/2 hours). She has pestered me all morning about when it will be time to go, so I finally showed her on the clock: when the short hand is between the 12 and the 1, and the long hand is on the 5, it will be time to go. That helped a lot! Since then, she has complained that the clock moves too slow (if only . . . ) and reminded me every 5 minutes that it is almost time to go.



Abby was a little worried that I was being too slow to get dressed, so I asked her if I should just go in my slip and underwear. She gave it some thought, and decided I'd better put clothes on so I could walk her to the door. After I got my skirt on, I asked her, "Do you like my skirt." (It's new.) She said, "Well . . . " I was beginning to think she must not like my new skirt, but then she said, "I think it will look better with a shirt." Oh, of course. What was I thinking!? On went the shirt, and then she liked my new skirt just fine.

We got there early enough to take her picture in front of the school's sign, and then off she went to her class. And I'm trying not to cry.

This Would Never Happen at Steven's House

Steven showed up at my house a little over a week ago when I had been gone for about a half hour. That's all the time it takes for my house to be completely taken apart. He walked in just a few minutes before I got there to naked Sam, flour all over the floor (Yes, that was about the 8th time - slow learner that I am, I finally moved the flour out of reach.), flour all over Sam's nether regions, various kitchen items and papers strewn all over the floor, countertops, etc., and several loads of laundry waiting to be folded in my living room. As I diapered Sam, swept up flour, and pulled out my hair, Steven tried in vain to help. He had a very concerned expression on his face the whole time he was here. I think he's worried about me.

Sweet Anna

Y Sugar and spice and everything nice - that's what little girls are made of.

My Big Brave Boy

Sam, my brave big boy, tried to follow me down the stairs last night, but a few steps from the bottom, he started crying and whining, and he refused to go any further. There was a costume monster hand on the step just below him that he was terrified to get near. I had to lift him over it while he twisted around in my arms to look back at the hand and make sure it wasn't following him. Then, when he went back upstairs, he had to press himself as close to the wall as possible to get past that scary hand and whimpered the whole time he was touching the step it was on! Click on the scary hands to see us torture him.

Father Of The Year

Steve gets the Father Of The Year Award; he got 16 month old Sam to do chores!

Sam's very favorite thing to do is to move things. He especially likes to move shoes. We find shoes in the bathtub, in the dishtowel drawer, in the trash can, in the dog food . . . He moves pan lids to the basement, measuring cups to the toilet (that one went straight into the trash), mixing bowls to the trash, dirty diapers out of the trash, and tampons all over the house (it's been over a month since that day, and I'm still finding tampons in random places) . . . Yesterday, he got into the 5 gallon flour canister and made a big pile of flour 3 feet away on the floor. He went back and forth and back and forth moving flour by the handful until he had the equivalent of at least a 5 pound bag piled up. Of course, he was covered head to toe as well (too bad the camera wasn't handy).

Steve wanted to clean out the garage yesterday, but I needed to try and regain some sanity for a few hours. So Steve kept Sam and didn't think he'd get anything done. But he was able to harness Sam's passion for moving things and got him to “help” clean the garage. Sam contentedly hung out in the garage with Steve moving tools and boxes for a couple of HOURS. I really think we’re on to something – we’re going to try him at sorting laundry next.

Zack's Hairy Armpits

As my screen saver scrolled through my pictures, Matthew, who wasn't wearing his glasses, was very surprised to see that Zack has such long armpit hair.

Oh, Go Fly a Kite!

Yesterday afternoon, as I was taking my 20 minute (translation: 90 minute) power nap, the kids came into my room and started rooting around under my bed for the two big kites I bought from Costco last spring. We had never even taken them out of the packages. I started getting all bugged and was trying to shoo them out of my room while asking them what they were doing. They answered, "Dad told us to." So I dragged myself up to help them put the kites together, a big mermaid with wings (huh?) and a dragon.

We got them both put together, but when we went outside, there was not even the tiniest hint of wind. The trees were absolutely still. We licked our fingers and held them up to double-check, but couldn't feel a bit of wind. The package instructions recommend at least 7 mph winds, but Matthew and his friend wanted to try anyway. So they ran and ran and ran . . . and got the kite up. But it only stayed up as long as they were sprinting across the yard. They ran with that big dragon kite for about 30 minutes, while I got tired just watching them and went back inside.

Eventually, Steve came into the kitchen and asked where the kids were. I said, a little peeved, "They're outside trying to fly a kite with no wind at your suggestion." He, of course, busted up laughing, and then I finally got it. They'd been pestering him for a while because they were bored, so he told them to "Go fly a kite."

But I Wasn't Laughing

I've been told during my whole life as a mother to write down the funny things that my kids say. I've done a little of that, but unfortunately, not nearly enough. I've just been re-reading some old journal entries and came across several things my kids said and did that I had absolutely no memory of. Not even an, "Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." How could I have possibly forgotten about Abby washing her hair in the toilet. But even after reading about it, I am drawing a complete blank. I remember a lot of what my older two kids said and did, but as my brain becomes more fragmented with age and children, I seem to forget a scarey amount.

The title of this blog refers to something that my oldest daughter, Anna, said when she was little, about 9. Steve was laughing at something that she had said, and she wasn't happy about it. She didn't like her dad to laugh at her. He tried to explain to her that he wasn't laughing at her but was laughing with her. Her answer was simple, yet disarming: "But I wasn't laughing."

Though Anna didn't find that funny, this blog is dedicated to things that we, as parents, do find funny. I'll try to dredge up past favorites from my crippled brain as well as add new gems as they are bestowed.

I love the baffled look my kids give me when I burst out laughing at something they have said. And Matthew always groans and pleads, "Don't tell everyone - you always tell everyone!" I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see some of my favorite Matthewisms posted on the internet for all to see (as I cackle with glee)!!!