Catching Up

• I have a garden. And by "garden," I mean "cartons on my counters with seeds and seedlings in them." Technically, the last frost date is in mid-April and last spring, I got too excited about the garden and planted everything precisely five days before the last frost date. Of course, everything died, even though I was out there covering them with cups and blankets and all kinds of crazy things. (Not entirely true. The tomatoes, which were covered with Solo cups, lived. They produced plenty of fruit. The dog ate every single one. If she eats my garden again this year, we're going to have some problems.) So this year, the garden is happening in easy-to-transport containers that are transported inside when it's rainy or cold and outside when it's warm. I'm counting down the days to the last frost date so I can put these plants in the ground and quit carting them around every day.
• We tried to grow broccoli. We failed miserably. They all got too tall and fell over, at which point the children and I ate the seedlings and called them "microgreens." What? That's what microgreens are. It's a thing.
• We went to visit my mom and stepdad last week. We went to a museum and saw an exhibit about Spinosaurus. We rode the train to and from the city. We watched a movie. We ate at delicious restaurants. And yet, when I asked the children what their favorite part of the trip was, they both agreed that it was "finding sticks in the yard." 'Cuz, you know, there are no sticks in all of Raleigh. Not even one. Nope.
• Yesterday, they both wanted to sell some rocks to me. I offered them a nickel per rock if they managed to convince me that I wanted or needed the rocks. Immediately, they started pointing out every shiny facet of the rocks, how the rocks could be used to break open things that were stuck, how they could be used as decoration or jewelry, how I could use the rocks to pay for other things (um, what?) and so on. Finally, I told them that I was convinced and I'd buy the rocks. They looked at each other, put the rocks back into their pockets and said, "No, actually, we need these rocks. These are really good rocks!" Ahh, if only this strategy worked to deter the solicitors that come knocking at the door.

Monkey See, Monkey Do

Let Go My Lego

Overheard from the other room, where the kids are playing with Legos...

L: No, don't take that. That's North America.
W: Well...I have to take it. I'm making the Earth.

Yup, it's official. They can find the loopholes in every blessed thing. 

Here We Go Again

Last week, Weston brought me a wooden toy schoolhouse and pointed to the word, "school."

W: I can read this word!
Me: You can?
W: Yes. It says, "school!"
Me: Why, yes. Yes, it does. How did you know that?
W: Well, first, you have to cover up this letter *covers up the h with his finger* because it's qui-let like a ninja. Then, you say this: sssss-cccccc-ooooooo-llllllll. School!

My baby, my child who still says "qui-let" instead of quiet is learning how to read. He sounds things out and I watch, fascinated, as his mouth and tongue try to catch up and make the sounds that his brain tells him to make. For several days, every time he came across the word, "that," he said "flat," because he couldn't say "ttthhhhh." He's learning how to say sounds correctly not from hearing them for the past three-and-a-half years, but from reading them. It's a twisted around reality we live in around here.

A Very Disjointed Post About Livestock

McMoose told me something about an Islamic Sheik and my mind keeps interpreting it as "Llama sheep." So I say to him, wait, what? A llama sheep? And he says, no, an Islamic Sheik. And everything makes sense for a moment, until I get distracted and then I say again, hold on, did you say a llama sheep? We've gone through this three times now and still, I find myself trying to remember what exactly he said about a llama sheep.

Speaking of llamas and sheep, I went to a yarn and fiber expo about a year and a half ago and met all kinds of adorable fiber animals--llamas, alpaca, sheep, rabbits. And also, I met a man whose job it is to travel around the Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina area and shave fiber animals. He can shave a sheep in 3 minutes. An entire sheep. In three minutes. He took great pride in the fact that he never accidentally nicked an animal while shaving them. In three minutes. I'm pretty sure he made a pact with the devil because how else do you do that?


And although we haven't been speaking of goats, I feel I should mention that last weekend, we went to an open barn, largely because I desperately wanted to know what that meant. It means, apparently, that you go to a farm and get to walk through all their animal barns. So pretty much exactly what one might expect, if one were to form expectations about such things. So we went and we talked about how cute the grown goats were and then, THEN, we met the baby goats. Baby goats, apparently, are insanely adorable while also oddly resembling the devil. (I have typed the word "devil" twice in this one post. I'm pretty sure that if I went back and read every single post on this blog, I would not find it anywhere else. I'd also be unlikely to find "llama sheep," I suppose.) So we looked at the babies and cooed over the babies and fed the babies and held the babies and by the time we left, Luke and I were firmly in the camp of wanting a baby goat. McMoose and Weston were firmly in the camp of being completely over the baby goats.

Case in point: Luke and me enthralled by a baby goat. Weston sitting as far away from baby goat as possible. McMoose being uninterested in even holding a baby goat. Weirdos, both of 'em.

As you can see, Weston did eventually come over to pet the goat a little bit. A very little bit. I might convert him to a goat lover yet.

Sometimes, I feel like the most productive person. Today, for instance. I filled up every spare second with something that needed to get done. Took Weston to and from school, went to the library, got school done with Luke, kept everyone fed and reasonably happy, did laundry, swept and mopped a few rooms, chased down the cat when he ran off. There were no extra minutes that could have been filled because they were all taken up.

And yet.

Luke and I didn't get to the math card game I had planned on. Weston only got one book before his nap. The two dirty floored rooms are calling to me. Half the clean laundry is still waiting to be folded and put away. An ever-present load or two of dirty laundry is waiting to be washed. The dog didn't get enough attention. The cat accidentally got shut in the pantry during lunch. Another baby didn't get a good nap and I never take him to story time like I did for the others. There are still pieces of pear on a cutting board from lunch and now, the ants are all going to move back into my house.

I'm taking a breath. I'm letting it go. I'm enjoying spring with the kids and hoping that when they're grown, they'll remember warm and happy days, rather than a messy house. 

The Scariest Creature Imaginable

We stopped at the bookstore after dinner with the firm understanding that we wouldn't be buying any books. 

Obviously, we bought books. At the check out counter, Luke suddenly began to look very thoughtful. 

Luke: Guys! There's something in this building that might EAT us!

Weston, looking a bit terrified: Is it a virus?!

This is what happens when you try to explain the cover of a Robin Cook book to a three-year-old.