Wes has a new trick-

Just when all seems to be calm, life hands me another ball to juggle.

Wes can now reach the door handle, pull down the lever and go outside.

Enough said.

I'm not as smart as I thought.

Back in March, when Luke turned 5, he received a kit to grow his own Venus Fly Trap. It came complete with a nice terrarium to grow several different carnivorous types of plants. We happily planted the seeds, and have been eagerly awaiting their arrival ever since.

Patiently and eagerly awaiting.

So far, all we see is the same dirt, rocks & plastic amphibians that were there back in March. Everyone knows we're heading into the dreaded 'dormant' season, so I've been praying for a miracle.

My prayers were answered last week when I walked into the grocery store and saw a sign that read, VENUS FLY TRAPS. I ran to the floral section and grabbed the most beautiful trap I could find. I rushed my way through the rest of my shopping and couldn't wait to give Duke my $6.00 gift. I was about to become a hero and my badge of honor was well-earned.

Luke was as happy as a child could possibly be. He immediately went hunting for bugs. He came back inside 2 minutes later with a live grasshopperish/crickit-like/green moth thingy. He knew just what to do. He carefully removed the terrarium lid and placed his catch into the jaws of the trap. As they quickly closed upon their prey, Luke watched with horror.


Then he burst into tears. LARGE, crocodile tears.

He informed the venus fly trap that it was 'not nice to eat one of God's creatures' and that he needed to 'spit it out RIGHT NOW!'

The venus fly trap didn't listen. He just kept right on trapping.

What was I thinking? Buying a venus fly trap for a future entomologist and bug/creature lover extraordinaire was one of the worst and most shameful mistakes I have done since taking the role of motherhood 8 1/2 years ago.

Since last week, I have spent my days catching flies and feeding them to 'Trappy.' If Trappy doesn't eat, Trappy will die.

And that would break Luke's heart.

Picture this...

I hate, hate, hate to blog without a picture. You'll just have to use your imagination.

(PS-Hate is not a word that's allowed in our house. Ah, the dreaded 'H' word. However, seeing as my kids don't read my blog, I'm breaking the rules.)

Earlier today, Jack wound himself around, and around, and around until the swing would no longer wind. He counted to three and let go. I watched him spinning out of control until my stomach could no longer take the view. Once his ride was over, he stumbled like a drunken sailor and sat down next to me.

"You know what, mom?" He said. "If you spin very fast on your swing and then try to walk, it makes you really dusty."

"Dusty?" I asked. "You look clean to me."

Becoming easily agitated, he added-"NO, MOM! I don't mean dirty, I MEAN DUSTY! You know like when you swing, and swing, and swing and you try to walk but you fall over?"

"You mean dizzy?" I suggest.

"Yes, dizzy!" He said. And then he got up and sat by someone else.

The end.

HELP...my BABY is ONE!!

What Would You Be?

By Dr. Seuss

If you'd never been born, well then what would you be?

You might be a fish! Or a toad in a tree! You might be a doorknob! Or three baked potatoes!

You might be a bag of hard green tomatoes! Or worse than all that- why, you might be a WASN'T! A WASN'T has no fun at all. No, he doesn't.

A WASN'T just isn't. He just isn't present. But you-

you ARE YOU!

And now, isn't that pleasant? Today you are you! That is truer than true!

There is no one alive who is you-er than you! Shout loud,

"I am lucky to be what I am!

Thank goodness I'm not just a clam or a ham! Or a dusty old jar of sour gooseberry jam!

I am what I am! That's a great thing to be!

If I say so myself,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!"

HOORAY FOR ONE!

Letter Writing...

Luke's teacher gave him his first homework assignment to work on while off-track for three weeks.

Practice writing your name. Use a 'BIG LETTER' first and use 'LITTLE LETTERS' for the rest of your name. Practice writing your last initial using a 'BIG LETTER.'

He's been practicing like CRAZY. In the steam on the shower door, with sidewalk chalk, on a dry-erase board, with mud in the mud hole he and his brothers created over the past several days.

While wiping off our kitchen table last night, I found his latest practice location,

The surface of our kitchen table. Inscribed with his lucky rock.

The U is a little too small and the K could use a bit of perfection.

I'm giving him this kitchen table for his wedding present.

I Kicked The Habit, Y'all!

I'm big, I'm bad, and I'm finally off of these:



That's right, folks.....from now on, it will be nothing but this for me:

(Oops, wrong picture....ahem...)
Let's try again

Nothing but this for me:

If you need help kicking the bottle blues too, please give me a ring. I'd be glad to help. I can be reached at 1-800-SIPPY-CUPS-RULE!

Love,

Wes

Meet Sarah...

Jack and I were playing 'kitchen' earlier this evening. I requested a cup of much-needed coffee and Jack happily made it for me. "Oh wait." He said. "I forgot your cweam." He shook in a generous amount of pretend 'cweam' and together we sat, drinking our coffee.

Then the coffee talk began.

Me-You make an awesome cup of coffee, Jack! Who taught you this?

Jack-Sarah did.

Me-Sarah? Who's Sarah?

Jack-My girlfriend. He stands up on his chair and raises his hand above his head. She's this big and when she's here, I'm this big too.

Me-I see. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Where does she live?

Jack-Over there. Pointing out the window in no particular direction.

Me-When did she teach you how to make coffee?

Jack-She invited me to her house and she cooked me dinner. I watched her cook and I wearned how to make coffee. She makes good coffee.

Me-Wow, she sounds like a nice girl. What did she cook you for dinner?

Jack-Pizza and corn.

Me-I like pizza and corn.

Jack-Me too.

Me-Tell me more about Sarah. What does she look like? Is she here now?

Jack-We had a sweepover at my house and I kissed her head and told her I loved her, but she went home and swept on her own bed. She has brown hair and brown eyes and she's pwetty. A wot of people have brown hair and brown eyes, huh, mom?

Me-Yes, Jack, a lot of people do. So is she here?

Jack-No. She's at work.

We finished our coffee and headed to the kitchen for some 'real' food. We're sitting at the dinner table and Derek begins to ask Jack about his girlfriend, Sarah.

Derek-So tell me about Sarah, Jack.

Jack-Well, she's this tall. Standing on his dinner chair raising his hand above his head to show Sarah's height. And when she's here, I'm this tall, too.

Derek-Is she here right now?

Jack-No, but she's coming over. Can I be excused?

Mom & Dad(in unison)-Yes.

I start to clear the table and try to process what just transpired. It's our first real imaginary friend, and it's a girl. Just then, I hear the front door open and close. Running (and thinking Logan escaped....again) I find Jack standing there.

"Who went out the door?" I ask.

"No one. It was just Sarah. She's here now."

"Can I see her?" I ask.

"Just a minute, mom. We're talking."

As I make my way back to the kitchen, once again, I hear the door open and close. This time I approach it at a much slower speed.

"Who opened the door?"

"It was Sarah. She weft. She had to get back to work."

Only time will answer the dozens of remaining questions I have about the newest member of our family. How long has she been around? Is that who Jack has been 'talking' to whenever I hear him chattering in the next room?

Welcome to the family, Sarah. I hope our Gang Of Seven doesn't frighten you away any time soon.

PS-Thanks for sleeping in your own bed.

Where do I begin?

I was planning on blogging today about our lovely weekend and our family trip to the Cave Of The Winds. As a SAHM (stay at home mom), I am well-aware that I need to go with the flow. While I wake up each morning driven, ready and with a plan, things don't always go MY way. Take today, for example.....

The scene: We just got home from the car wash. It's a cheap activity/field trip that we don't even need to get out of the car for. Just roll your window down, hand the attendant $12.00 and drive on through. Yes, $12.00 is the most expensive wash, which also means it's the longest, thus taking the most time to get through. Are you catching on? Logan hates the car wash. It terrifies him. But, the look on his face as we drive through is very entertaining to the rest of the gang. I wouldn't want to spoil that, would I?

Jumping back on track.

So we're at home and I am painstakingly detailing the rims and tires of our suburban. You heard me.....DETAILING THE RIMS AND TIRES. I am a wonderful wife. I gave the boys each a scrub brush and a floor mat from the car to clean. Child labor laws went out the window and things were looking quite sparkly and clean.

Then it happened. Thing one and thing two began to fight. Next thing I knew, a water fight broke out and I had been doused with soapy water. What's even worse is the fact that my clean car had soapy water all along it's side. I immediately sent the guilty party into the garage to get a roll of paper towels to dry the car. I do not tolerate water spots and I'm not about to let $12.00 go down the drain. Inside the garage, a tug-of-war began....over a roll of paper towels and 'who found it first'.

Then something crashed to the floor. I glanced from the driveway (still detailing the tires) and made sure the crash did not involve a head, or any other form of injury. All was good. The guilty ones dried the car and we spent another 30 minutes cleaning.

We cleaned up our mess and headed into the garage. That's when I found this:

What's a mom to do?

Here's the lineup. Let me know who YOU think is guilty.