SUCCESS*

*more to come

I WOULD DANCE AND BE MERRY, LIFE WOULD BE A DING-A-DERRY

On September 4th, 2005 I wrote:

Giving birth took a part of my brain.

It is now my experience that missing brain parts don’t grow back.

Today, indeedee-o not tomorrow, is the twins birthday

On September 4th 2005 I also wrote:

The Pixie has a hard time waking up and getting her body to do what she wants.  She strains and grunts and makes all manner of noises and funny faces until she has accomplished her task.

Still true.  You don’t want to be here in the mornings…or when she’s using the bathroom.

The Pirate is a guy’s guy.  He loves to eat – and fast and very regular.  We call him The Clock.

Too, still true.  Looking back, I post a picture or mention his eating habits once a month.  Nothing else being noteworthy enough.

Tomorrow, hot-diggety-eagle-dog, I will not wile’ away the hours nor be found consultin’ with the rain. 

Mr. Right and I shall be hosting two birthday parties.

Two celebration days? 

Two parties?

That’s how we do it (intentionally of course).

IF YOU DON’T HAVE ARMS HOW DO YOU KEEP A BACKPACK ON?

The Princess called out:

“Where is our other Lego guy?!”

A minute later…”I cannot find our other guy!”

Isn’t there a different guy you can use?

“No.”

So we only have one Lego guy?

“No, we have two, but the Pirate has the other one.  It doesn’t have arms.”

It doesn’t have arms?  Sounds like we need to buy one or two more Lego guys.

“No.  The Pirate doesn’t care if it has arms.”

He doesn’t care?

“Yeah,” he finally pitched in, “his arms are invisible.”

THE STRAIN ON MY BRAIN

 

Last night as I encouraged The Pixie to get in bed, again, for the 8th time, she asked me, “So when is my birthday? Is it tomorrow?”

Nope.  I said.  Today is Thursday. 

Tomorrow is Friday and we make decorations for your party. 

The next day is Saturday  and I work and you have the Primary party.

The next day is Sunday and we go to church.

The next day is Monday  and I work again.

And the next day is your birthday and we have two huge parties!!!

She glowed with excitement and then The Pirate asked, “So when is MY birthday?”

Quite a while later, when I crashed on the couch and  listened to Danny Kay croon a lullaby, I began thinking of the twins beginning Kindergarten.

School starts next Wednesday.  It will be a big day for all of us.

You know, I said to me-self, I throw a grand welcome summer party.  I should throw a swell welcome school party too.

And I should do it the night before the first day of school, but sadly I cannot because that’s the twins birthday.

Huh.  I wondered.  I don’t remember their birthday everrrrrrrr coming the day before the first of September, which, based on my experience is typically the 31st of August.

That’s when it occurred to me for not the first time.

I’m an idiot.

 

The Question remains – is there still time to go tell The Pirate that his birthday is on Monday?

LET’S TALK ABOUT THE NEIGHBORS

I would like to introduce you to one of our neighbors.

She is a heavy breather.

She is also just plain heavy.

Heavy as in, if you stub your toe against her you might temporarily use language not intended for polite society.

THE SEE-SAW OF EXISTANCE EXHIBITED AND SUMMARIZED

Princess, the car is so full I need you to hold this basket of stuff for me on the way home.

and three minutes later there was trouble…

“Give it back!” she yelled.

A muffled Pixie voice replied, “nope.”

I turned around in my seat and saw The Pixie curling herself as far away from The Princess as she could.

“But you’re going to loose it.”

“no!”

“MOM!  She took those pens out of the basket and now she’s going to loose them.”

She won’t loose them.

“Yes.  She will.  And she took them without asking and if she had done that while YOU were holding the basket you would have said,  ‘Little fingers.  Little fingers.’”

Mr. Right tried not to laugh.

True.  Pixie did you ask?

“no.”

Princess - it’s not such a big deal if she wanted to look at those pens. Pixie – you should have asked.  How about you just hold the basket on your lap the rest of the way home.

“Aggh!  No!  I do not want that in my lap!”

You need to be responsible for something.

“NO!” as I shoved it onto her lap.

So she wailed.

Does Dad need to pull this car over?

and Mr. Right added, “Do I need to pull this car over?”

There was silence for one breath and then she mangled out, “Today is a totally Bad Day.”

The Princess quickly interjected, “How can you say that?  You got hot chocolate at mom’s eye appointment.  You got stuff for your birthday party at the store.  You got chocolate milk and a bagel at dad’s work when we had to get his phone…

Mr. Right pseudo-voiced, “That’s what I would have said.”

The Pixie was offended, “Yeah, but I spilled the hot chocolate on my shirt.  My eye got poked really bad at the store.  I spilled the chocolate milk on my shirt too, and now I have to hold this basket!!” she finished off.

Mr.  Right grinned at the traffic in front of him.

“AND  I’m sick!  It IS a bad day.”

The problem with being the funny one is that everything you say is funny.  Even the occasional disclaimers you don’t intend to be funny. 

Four out of Five thought this conversation was amusing.

Eventually The Princess distracted her and they began talking over and around and under each other and The Pirate began laughing at what they said and Mr. Right was saying something about something and suddenly it was too much for me.

There’s too much noise in here.  I picked a random victim.  Princess you’re done talking,  I declared.

She went quiet for two breaths.

And then, to our surprise, the air vents suddenly sent out a force of wind and over the hurricane Mr. Right had to yell, “Hey!  Who did that?  Who turned on the vents back there?!”

I looked back in time to see The Princess quickly curl her toes in toward her like the Wicked Witch of the East. The Princess’ toes did it.  They couldn’t help themselves.  The air buttons are so tempting.

“Rule 431:”  reminded Mr. Right, “NO ONE but Mom and Dad adjust the air!”

The Princess was ashamed, “Sorry.”

You’re fine. 

Her penitence went to zero.  I quickly amended,  OK you’re not fine.  But you’re not in trouble.  It’s done.

She nodded innocently.

The Pixie looked on with pleasure.

And The Pirate laughed, “You’re fine.  You’re NOT fine,” out the window.

Ain’t that the truth?

AND NOW

Three weeks ago we left home for Trek.

Two weeks ago we left home for Lake Chalan.

One week ago we left home for Cannon Beach.

This week we stayed home, mostly.

Allyson and Matt and baby Emma came to us.

We slept when we wanted and ate what we wanted and watched loads of Gilmore Girls.

Most relaxing week I’ve had in ages.

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WHILE I LAID ON THE FLOOR AND WATCHED

 “AGGGhhhh…Pixie that doesn’t work!”  The Princess berated her sister.

Mr. Right reminded her, Watch your words.

“But the dog is way too big for the horse!”

Duh.

So why don’t you have the horse ride the dog?

“What?!  They’d be going around a ship…and up on the mast…that’d make no sense.”

That would be a double scoop of duh.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

 

TECHNICALLY

We spent three days in Cannon beach and drove back yesterday.

On a whim Mr. Right took the left turn in Astoria instead of going straight to I-5.   And that made all the difference.

We found ourselves on a mammoth bridge crossing the mouth of the Columbia River.  Technically HWY 101 is the same distance as I-5 to home.

Technically.

For certain it is stunningly beautific.

The kids watched their movie during the coastal views.

Mr. Right declared that if they didn’t appreciate the pause-your-heart beauty now, then they would all be doomed to marry those who’s jobs required them to spend their lives living in Arizona.

The bugs did not respond.  They were wearing headphones.

Then I got hungry.

I had only one bag of Salt & Vinegar potato chips and between you and me: Mr. Right and I were not  going to share.

The bugs immediately ignored their movie. They zeroed in on my bag of chips and loudly wailed their hunger pains.  Then they declared their hatred of Hwy 101. 

Technically the same distance or no, they wanted Home now, and if Home was not immediately available the only condition on which they would lower their vocal volume was if I conceded the bag of chips.

I said, Never!  I do not respond to tyranny.  However, if you wait fifteen minutes I will give you jelly beans.

The Pirate wanted to know how long fifteen was.

The Princess told him it was three-fives.

After just one-five chaos reigned again so I quickly distributed the jelly beans. 

The blacks were shrieked at and promptly returned.

After one more five the rebels began clawing at their buckles.  Mr Right said that in no uncertain terms were they to eat these chips.

I gave them one each.

Then, deciding that was not cruel enough, I threw them back a whole box of off-brand Cheeze-Its. 

Technically they should taste the same.

Technically.

Like sharks on a bloody morsel they tore at the box and all went quiet.

Not even one-five later The Princess calmly said, “Mom, you should have a purple jelly bean on an off-brand Cheeze-It.”

My gag reflex acted up.  No way!

“Why not?”

That is completely gross.

“I KNOW.  And That’s what we’ve been eating.”

The box of off-brand Cheeze-Its was thrown back at me.

Not even The Pirate would eat them.

I gave them each a handful of Salt & Vinegar chips and started another movie.

SEEING DOUBLE

Notice anything different?

Yup – for those of you who picked up on the clues: Mr. Right had Lasik.

I was disqualified.

Instead I was given the not-Lasik, one-eye-at-a-time with a prolonged recovery option.

It was like being rejected from the college of your choice and having to go somewhere local instead.

Only in this case, there actually is a difference in the outcome.

The way I see it, my way comes with two perks.

Perk #1:  Now when I get mentioned in my children's prayers they are pleading for my recovery instead of sanity.

Perk #2:  I got more than a months worth of Percocet.

LAKE CHELAN day 3

picture of the day

Day 3 was spent primarily on the Lake except for the brief foray out for lunch and to pick up more books for The Princess  For that we went to the fanciest Thrift store ever – which was shown by their choice of bathroom hand soap.

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LAKE CHELAN day 2

picture of the day (this guy again)

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LAKE CHELAN day 1

picture of the day

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LITTLE BIT

I suspect Grandma Princess calls all her little chick-a-dees by this nickname, ‘Little Bit’.  It’s what she called The Princess anyway.

Then The Pixie walked in.

Where do you go from “Little Bit?” 

What’s smaller than that?

Grandma Princess is quick.  She called The Pixie, “Little Bit of Nuttin’”.

 

P.S.  Look at that Little Bit of Nuttin’s little bitty bum on my window ledge.

What a hoot.