Go Big or Go Home

Well it is about 3 months later than I was hoping, but the wood shed is FINALLY done.  Finished.  Logs skinned, shed built, roof roofed.  Again I say FINALLY!!!!  This has been going on since May and I am kind of a get it done in one day (or maybe a weekend, tops) even if I don't sleep and have to work in the dark kind of girl.  Unfortunately building a wood shed is quite a bit outside of my skill set so I had to go with Robbie's method of doing things which is "Don't worry, it will get done eventually."  I'm quite uncomfortable with this way of doing things but he was right.  It did get done.  Eventually.

Now when most people think of a woodshed they picture something like this:

 or even this:

We, are not most people.  This, is our wood shed:

Yes, we can park a truck (or two) in it...

The building of the wood shed was a family affair.  Luckily for Robbie, summer lasted well into October this year.  I say lucky because, as I tell all of my kids at school, sugar melts in the rain so I obviously would have been unavailable to help had the weather not cooperated as it did.  Ben was his usual helpful self, Robbie was the brains (and muscle) behind the operation and I did my best to be helpful (although I think that someone over 5'2" would have been slightly more effective at lifting plywood up to the roof).

And where was Abby, you ask?

Well, she was in charge of the camera, of course!

Now you may be wondering why we need a wood shed the size of a two car garage.  Good question.  It's because my husband is a wood stalker.  Now this is probably the first time you are hearing of this so let me explain how it works.  He sees someone cutting down a tree and pulls off the road to talk to them.  He asks what they plan to do with the wood and then offers to pick it up for free.  Most people have to pay to get rid of wood so they think this is a great deal and then continue to call him to pick up other trees.  Kind of awesome because it is free wood.  Kind of a problem because he works 90 hours a week so trying to fit in time to split and haul cords of wood usually involves me.  Anyhow, filling the wood shed should not be a problem...

There are literally piles of wood around the entire perimeter of our two and a half acre yard.  I am beginning to think that the splitter we bought this summer was money well spent. 

Not all of the wood will need to go in the woodshed.  Last weekend we took a few loads out to my parents' house.  Good thing we had Ben to help.  He loaded and stacked the entire trailer all by himself!  He even was sure to wear "extra bones" (and of course his helmet?) for the occasion.

And I'm sure you can guess what his sister was doing...

I'm thankful that the woodshed is finished and a little nervous about the 25 cords of wood that need to be chopped and stacked but I'm sure Robbie would tell me not to worry because it will get done...eventually.

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Pants.  What is up? It's no secret that I have never been someone on the cutting edge of fashion.  (Hoodie and tennis shoes?  Yes please!)  And I am having a hard time thinking that anything in the stores right now is cute (Helllloooooo!  The 80's called to remind you how ridiculous you looked then and that neon certainly isn't doing you any favors 30 years later!!!) but the pants are causing me some major issues.  I have yet to embrace the skinny jean and until recently have always been able to find something flattering but I have been on the hunt for a cute pair of jeans for quite some time and have been less than impressed.  Now, I will be the first to admit that jeans are not where I spend my money.  But I feel like I should be able to find a decent pair of jeans for fifty bucks.  I mean, I always did before 2011. My best fitting pair of jeans is from college.  Tight in all the right places but with enough room to breath and not reveal my pulse.  I don't feel like that is too much to ask.  I would still wear them everyday if I hadn't turned them into my painting pants.  Little did I know the predicament I would be in today.

The problem is the cut.  I'm what they call "short waisted".  I'm also short legged which is apparently not a good combo when you're looking for jeans.  Especially when the style is "Long & Lean".  Now I'm starting to feel like they're rubbing it in.  I got a new pair of jeans labeled "mid rise".  Really?  If they were any higher I wouldn't need a bra!  What happened to a nice comfy pair of low rise that would sit right on my hips?  Do they not make those anymore?  I feel like a granny hiking my pants up past my belly button.  Next thing you know I'm going to be tucking my shirt in!!

And that's not the only problem I'm having.  Since I now have to pull my pants three fourths of the way up my torso it is causing all sorts of problems.  Either it squeezes my twin skin (it's a real thing.  Google it.  Or not, if you don't want nightmares) into a muffin top or they are so baggy in the seat and legs that I look like I'm wearing Hammer pants.  Neither look is particularly attractive.

I feel like I'm a fairly average sized person but this pants issue is starting to give me a complex!  In high school, much to my father's dismay, I would cut the waist band out of my pants so that they fit where I wanted them too.  I would do that now but unfortunately, I'm about to be 33, the mother of two and a kindergarten teacher.  I feel like the window of appropriateness for that option slammed shut about a decade ago.

So I continue my quest, but in the meantime, if you notice me wearing what look like my husbands jeans, don't judge.

Costume Party

Today was the day that Ben has been waiting for for months.  Costume day.  Yep.  We are finally getting around to making the costumes that we won't need for 25 more days.  I think he felt like we were cutting it a little too close.  So this morning we got started right away.  Ben has decided that he wants to be a fisherman.  Actually, he wanted to be a jet skier...with a jet ski.  Luckily, the boy is easily peer pressured (good for now, scary for high school) and I was able to convince him that a fisherman would be a much better costume.  Mostly because I could figure out how to make it.

So I bought some fabric, traced Abby's fluffy pink vest and got to work.  I had make some adjustments so that it was more "fishing" than "5-year-old girl" and it wouldn't be a project of mine if I didn't make some cuts in places that I shouldn't (I know I know.  Measure twice cut once.)  I'm more of a cut and then measure girl which tends to cause quite a bit of anxiety but usually works out in the end.  When I'm working on a project, my Type A comes out in that I just want to get it done.  As crazy as I am about a lot of things, I am NOT a perfectionist.  It's my coping mechanism for dealing with the fact that I am not actually that good being crafty.  Most of the things I make usually look better (and are a lot easier) in my head and this was no exception.  I had a few set backs but once the vest was together, I added some pockets and wah-la.  A fisherman! 

I still have to make his hat and add some details (and by details I mean tackle) to the vest but imagine this on my oh so handsome boy with some cargo pants and a flannel shirt and big rubber boots!  (Almost) just how I pictured it!  And of course he needed a knife.  How else would he gut the fish?

Since November first (you know...ten months ago), Abby has been telling me that she wanted to be Phyllis (our long gone cat) for Halloween and then one night as I was tucking her into bed she told me that she had changed her mind and wanted to be the granny from the napping house.

I have no idea where in the world she came up with that but the kindergarten teacher in me did a triple back flip!  I had plans to make her the nightgown and hat and all of the characters to connect to the nightgown.  I bought a pattern and some fabric and called my mom for some help.  She took one look at the pattern and went to the store to find a less complicated one.  Then she came over this morning to help me put it all together.  Thank goodness she did because I would have never gotten it all done.  While I sewed Ben's vest, she cut out and pinned the nightgown so it was ready for me to put together.  I am so glad that she was here because my biggest problem with sewing is that my brain cannot figure out the math and planning that it takes to put things together.  Me and my Master's degree cannot figure out how to piece things together.  It all looks good and then I end up having to take a sleeve off because I sewed it on inside out.  (I may or may not have done that today...).  My mom definitely saved me from a few more big oooopsies today.  And she gave me a much better idea of how to make the night cap.  I would have gotten it done but her way was much more streamlined.  Thanks, Mom!  After she left and once the kids were in bed, I finished the nightgown (except for the sleeves) and I couldn't wait to see what it would look like on Abby.  So I did what any good mom would do and woke her up!

The last thing I need to do is add some elastic to puff up the shoulders (because puffy shoulders are apparently the most important part of the ensemble) and make some booties that look like slippers to go over her tennis shoes while she is trick or treating.  Oh, and I have to make a wakeful flea, a slumbering mouse, a snoozing cat, a dozing dog and a dreaming child to make it authentic.  (If you're confused, you'll have to read the story!)

Thanks to my mom for a fun day that surely would have been a lot more frustrating if she were not here.  I'm happy to have what I'm hoping to be the major parts of the costumes behind me.  And now, my October weekends can be spent doing the things I love like going to pumpkin patches and celebrating my birthday!!

Kindergarten: It's not for everyone

I might be delusional, but apparently, there are kids who do not love kindergarten.  Who knew?!?  The good news is that I am sure that there are none of these kids in my class.  The bad news?  There is definitely one in my house.

Yup.  You guessed it.  Ben is not a big fan.  The mornings are rough.  He cries as he makes his lunch.  He clings to me as I try to head out the door to work.  Every once in a while he announces that he's not actually going.  He says he has fun at school.  I hear bits and pieces about what he does at school, but he maintains that he does not like it.  I think it's just too long of a day for him.  And the mornings are hard because even though he is fine at school (according to my spy, his sister) looking down the barrel of six and a half hours is just too much.  And the teacher in me knows he is fine, but the momma in me?  She's a wreck.  And it's all I can do to peel him off me and kiss him goodbye before I start crying with him.

One evening this week, I asked him how school was and all he said was, "Long."  By the time I get home at 4:15, the fact that his day was too long for him is abundantly clear.  The tears usually start just before dinner.  Most of the time because of some unreasonable request on my part.  Like to put his bike in the garage, rather than behind my car.  Or to actually sit in his chair while he is eating. 

Here's how things went down on Wednesday.

Me:  Here's your delicious dinner of homemade taco soup and some saltines.
Ben: I ate 5 crackers.  Can I have more?
Me: Sure.  As soon as you eat your soup.
Ben: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.  It's too muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch.  I can't eat all thaaaaaaaaaaaaat.
Me:  That's fine.  You don't have to eat anything you don't want to.
Ben: But I'm hungreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

After this exact same conversation 2 more times, he disappeared upstairs.  Honestly, I was just so glad that the cracker convo was over that I didn't even really notice until he came downstairs in his jammies with his blanket.

"Mommmmmmmeeeeeeeeee.  Snuggle meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee."  And then he crawled up on my lap for a nice long snuggle (which I secretly love).  By 6:20 I was tucking him into bed.

Thursday morning was a little bit better.  There were no tears but he declared that it was the best day of the week because once it was over he wouldn't have to go for three whole days.  Sounds like progress to me!  Before dinner he even let it slip that he loved school.  Woo hoo!! 

And then we had the same exact dinner scenario as the night before, except for rice and meatballs instead of soup and crackers. 


And again, he was crying on the couch.

So we have established that kindergarten just isn't Ben's thing.  I usually tell concerned parents that September is hard on kids, but after the first month they tend to adjust and get used to the schedule and routines.  Well, September's dunzo.  Here's hoping my own kid doesn't prove me wrong on Monday.

My Worst Nightmare

I hate junk.  Call them what you will, knick knacks, Tchotchkes, decorations, collections...it's all junk to me.  And there is nothing I like less.  Junk makes its way into my house on occasion, birthday party favors, freebies from the bank, decorations off the tops of cupcakes, happy meal toys, junk mail, treasure from school...been there, done that.  But here's my little secret.  That stuff doesn't stand a chance in my house because I throw it away as soon as the rightful owner dares to put it down.  I know.  I know.  It's bad for the environment.  And they aren't mine to throw away.  I'm terrible.  I can live with that.  But I can't live with junk.  Clutter makes me anxious so everything I have, serves a purpose.  Except my husband.  KIDDING!!!  Of course he serves a purpose.  Who else would take out the massive amounts of garbage?  Kidding again.  I do that.  Still kidding.  (Mostly...)

Have you seen the show "Hoarders"?  That's the stuff nightmares are made of.  I get panicky when I can't see part of my counter top and these people haven't seen their entire floor in decades.  I get shivers just thinking about it.  Well imagine my horror when I discovered that my own daughter (yes, the one who lives for cleaning the house) is well on her way to her own episode on A&E.  She would keep EVERYTHING if I let her and one look at her room proves that she has slipped some things by my strict entrance (to the house) requirements.

Here is the top of her dresser.  From what I can identify, I see a collection of tags from her new school clothes, a bracelet, a Sillyband, a tub of colorful rocks (with a magic wand inside) and a paper house full of puff balls that she made for a tiny puppy.  How any of those things have survived this long, I will never know.

And here is a look at her "jewerly".  Not that she can wear any of it since it is so tangled.

Oh, and more rocks.  This girl loves her rocks.  Which surprisingly, are the thing that I have the least problem with.

Her nightstand is no better than her dresser.  Notice another rock...

 

The thing about her is that she won't notice or care when I eventually do get a chance to clean out all of her junk (which I'm thinking I might do tonight while she is sleeping), but that almost makes it more puzzling as to why she has so much stuff that she has no attachment to. 

 

 One night, more than a year ago, I looked around the room as I tucked her into bed and announced that the next day we would be cleaning up.  She asked, "Why do you always want me to put things away?"  I said, "Too bad for you, but you got stuck with a momma who doesn't like junk just sitting around."  She didn't skip a beat when she said, "Too bad for you, but you got stuck with a girl who does."  And that, my friends, is why I love that kid.  No matter how much junk she has.

True Confessions of a Ridiculously Hysterical Mother

 

Orientation was the beginning of the end.  It was about a week ago and the panic had just begun to set in.  It started with butterflies in my tummy and led to me crying hysterically for four straight hours after my first experience as a kindergarten parent.  The kids were so excited about starting school but every time I thought about it I had to choke back sobs.  My eyes well up just thinking about it now.  I could barely get through a conversation (about anything) without tears running down my face.  I am a disaster! 

 

Not that this is news to any of you.  It is probably payback for all of the years I spent as a kid making fun of my mom for crying at toothpaste commercials. 

 

I was able to pull myself together the following day to take the kids to meet their teacher.  They got all dressed in school clothes

 and skipped a mile down the road to school. 

 When they got there they couldn't have been happier to be in the same class as their cousin, Eliana.

 After "Meet the Teacher", it was seven excruciating days until the first day of school. 

 

Last night, before they laid out their new school clothes, they carbo loaded to get ready for the big day

 

And reviewed the morning plans with me.  Four times.

 

B: "Mamma, when we wake up if you are making your lunch you can just keep making it while we get dressed and then can you get a big bowl and pour me as much cereal as I need to eat but don't put the milk in it just put it in a cup so it doesn't get soggy and then when I come downstairs you can zip my sweatshirt before breakfast or after breakfast, whatever works best for you."

 

In the morning, they were quick to get dressed in their new clothes and were excited to find their traditional first day of school cake.  And yes.  Cake for breakfast on the first day of school is a tradition.  Sue me.

 After breakfast, they got to work making their lunches.  Yes.  I make my kids make their own lunch.  Why?  Because they can.  And I'm busy.  They have a menu of items available to them and pick things from four areas so that they get a wellish balanced meal.

 

Ben decided to go with ham and mustard on a pita today.

 And Abby sliced some cheese

 to put on her sandwich.

 Then she reviewed the menu

 and decided to add some apples

 Meanwhile, Ben packed himself some peas.

 It took a bit of time, but they did a great job and were so proud!

 

 

When it was time to get shoes on, it was a team effort. 

 

 Then out to the front porch for our first day photos

 

 

 And then it was off to the bus.

 

 

 Just kidding.  They didn't ride the bus.  This is like the picture you take at the wedding of the bride pretending to throw the bouquet.  They turned around and got in the car.

 

Once at school, Ben and Abby, I mean Abigail (which is apparently her school name), found their table

 and got right to work.

 When it was time to say goodbye they gave us a kiss and went right back to work.  Me on the other hand?  Well, at least I almost made it out the door of the classroom before I started crying.  Don't worry.  I don't think the kids saw me.  The PTA moms might have.  But they meet at 9:10 on Wednesdays so I guess I don't have to worry about seeing them again.  I cried some more on my way to work and throughout the day I couldn't stop thinking about them and wondering what they were doing.  I knew they were probably having fun, but were they tired?  Did they miss me?  (Come to find out there was no need to worry about that one.  Abby told me, "a couple times I was having so much fun I forgot about you!")  I couldn't wait to get home and hear all about their day.

 

Robbie was there to meet them when they got off the bus (which, by the way, was their favorite part of the day!)

 As I listened to them tag team the story of their day, I could tell that they had had a great day and that they were going to have a great year.  But when I put them to bed, I couldn't help but cry as I wondered where in the world five and a half years went.  I am so proud of the kids that they are and so happy that they are in school but I'm pretty sure this picture couldn't have been taken more than about a year and a half ago...

 and today my babies are not babies anymore...

 

 I'm thinking that by Monday (or at the very latest, Christmas break) I will have my emotions about this situation under control.  Because believe me I know this is ridiculous.