But the sad truth is we both hate the lawn mower.  I hate it because I miss that loud, growling noise each time the lawn is mowed. I mean, the sound of a running lawn mower screams, “SUMMER” and is just so “cool.”  It’s like the yard work equivalent of a Harley Davidson.  You know what I mean.  But, frankly, our electric lawn mower sounds like a sewing machine.  And I hate to sew.  I think Dave hates it for mostly the same reasons — but he would define it thus: It’s a wimpy lawn mower.  Don’t get me wrong, it works and gets the job done (when it actually gets used…more on that it a sec.) but it screams “Girlie-Man” like nobody’s business.  It doesn’t help that you have to trail a cord behind you as you mow – or that one of the wheels always falls off. 

What have I done?

So, because we have the world’s stupidest lawn mower, our lawn is almost never mowed.  Which is another reason why I hate this mower. 

Here you can see that the indentities of the innocent are being protected.  No one wants to be associated with this yard.

This is the situation that has developed in our yard. In our own defense, we are not big yard work people to begin with, but our yard was designed by the world famous Jamie Durie – who, I might add, is anything but a girlie man.  But you would never know that our lawn was professionally landscaped — all due to our lawnmower. I think it is my fault.  Well, mine and the environment’s.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

5:30am – Dave leaves to get to his 7:30am job interview in city located 25 minutes south. 

7:00am – Emme wakes up a bit early, so I choose to forgoe my early shower (afterall, grandma is in town so I will have time later!).

7:20am – Stumble downstairs.  Jade is all ready for school and Ty and Emme and Grandma are all waking up slowly in the living room.  I grab a cup of coffee and settle in for what should be a nice, well-planned day. I say a little prayer for Dave that his interview goes well.

7:59am – Jade leaves for school.

But then…

8:00 am – Ty informs me that he played a joke on daddy and has hidden daddy’s keys.  What? Where?

8:01am – Ty reveals Dave’s work keys to the school and classroom, plus his ID badge.  I have an “a ha” moment about the remark last night when Dave said, “I can’t find my keys.”

8:03am – Text Dave, “Ty hid yr keys. We have them here if U need them.”

8:05am – Dave calls to inform me that they moved his interview back to 9:15am and that he is on his way home to get his keys.  I do mental math (not my strong point, by the way) and realize by the time he gets home, he will have only about 10 minutes before he will need to get back into his car and head back to his interview.

8:07am- Izzy asks me, “Will you flat iron my hair for 6th grade graduation today?”  Yes, go get flat iron and plug it in in Jade’s bathroom where there is more counter space.

8:08am – Load Izzy and Lily’s fancy dresses into garbage bags because it has started pouring down rain.

8:10am – Izzy and I head down to bathroom to work on her hair.  Ty trails behind us to watch.

8:11am – Ty touches the hot part of the flat iron.  Screams, “I touched it on accident!!!!!”  I pick him up and run to the other bathroom because Jade’s sink backs up really easily.  Run finger under cold water for several minutes.  Carry sobbing 5 year old to kitchen and put on bandaid.  Hold him.  Carry him back to Jade’s  bathroom

8:15am – Dave arrives home.  Ty runs from bathroom to get a hug from Daddy.  I begin flat ironing hair.

8:19am – Flat ironed hair looks pretty darn good. 

8:20am – Walk down the hallway and question Dave’s outfit choice for interviewing.  I run upstairs to the closet to see if I can do better.  I can’t. 

8:22am – Return downstairs to Ty and Emme screaming  in Dave’s arms.  Loudly.  I don’t ask.

8:23am – I sit on big chair and go into an alternate universe where they have unicorns.

8:26am – Microwave my coffee and take my first sip.

8:29am – Dave starts to leave, but kids are still screaming.  I got it, I say.  Just go. Oh, and good luck on your interview.

8:30am – Ty tackles me on the big chair.  Cries some more.  I use deep breathing techniques to get him to relax.  Emme decides to walk around the living room with a dishtowel over her head and discovers that this can cause her to run into things. 

8:35am – Izzy and Lily (remember them?) gather stuff to get ready for school.

8:45am – Neighbor girl shows up to pick up Izzy and Lily and they head out the door.

And to wrap it all up…

8:45am to 1:15pm – a short hiatus where  I debrief Dave’s interview, finally get my shower, throw in a load of laundry, eat breakfast, fix lunch, put Emme down for a nap, put on nice clothes for aforementioned 6th grade graduation, pack a snack and camera for the afore aforementioned graduation, help grandma pack a picnic for upcoming swim meet, watch Ty’s “battle show” on TV.

2:00 to 5:30pm – All 8 of us (including Grandma Bloo) attend a 90 minute 6th grade graduation where Emme tries to steal the show multiple times by shouting “YA YA” at the top of her lungs and performing 1 year old dance moves to all the music from the slideshow.  Then Grandma, Dave, and I put hands in a circle and yell “BREAK” and run in three different directions.  Me to dentist with Jade and Ty, Grandma to swim meet with Izzy and Lily, Dave to home with Emme. We exchange seven texts and four phone calls between us — none while driving — and I finally arrive home before the rain starts up again only to read an email that reveals that Lily is on the wrong soccer team for the Fall. Seriously?

5:31 to 7:38pm – Eat some form of food, have talk with Dave about why he doesn’t take me on fancy dates any more, discover there is no toilet paper in our bathroom, and realize the underwire in my bra is trying to empale me.

7:39pm – -Open beer.

7:40pm – Make a mental note to not forget anything on tomorrow’s agenda.

7:41pm- Drink beer

The End.  Well, not really.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

Whatever…

But then a few zingers found their way into the game, for example:

#26 Which one of your women friends does he find the most attractive?

Let’s just say I got that one right.  Not because he admitted it, but because he turned bright red and opened a beer.

#89 Is there anything  you (he) can do that SHE can’t?

No.  I can even pee standing up, if required.  Oh, wait, he can swim the butterfly.  Take it from me, my butterfly is pretty darn ugly.  I also cannot do calculus. 

#43 What would she say about the idea of a strip club a mile from your home?  A.) “Where do I sign to protest?”  B.) “Makes no difference to me!”  C.) “Great!”  or D.) “Hmmm, Wonder if they are hiring?”   Well, since the high school I used to work at is RIGHT NEXT to a strip club (I kid you not), I am gonna go with C.  Okay, just kidding.  

Of course, now when some creep out ther googles “strip club” my blog will come up.  Lovely.

So, if you are bored this summer and looking to torture your husband, pick these little gems up.  Or better yet, give them as wedding gifts.  The groom will thank you, I am sure.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

One VERY wet soccer player!

But Wednesday’s soccer game took the warning “Rain or Shine” to a whole new level.  Let’s just say NOAH would have been intimidated.  When I realized that the raindrops actually hurt as they fell, I had Dave call the assistant coach of the soccer team and ask if, perchance, this game would be, well… rained out.  Oh no, that doesn’t happen, he said.  And so off I went with a carload of 6th grade girls and Ty, who insisted that he loved the rain. 

Mud Puddles

What resulted was 90 of the wettest minutes of my life.  And I was on swim team.  The girls were soaked to the skin within 3 minutes — aka the walk from the car to the field.  The parents had various rain protection devices with them — aka, boots, umbrellas, and a stoic attitude.  Ty and I huddled under our newly purchases “sports-brella” which is a giant, oversized umbrella designed to sit on its side, like a cave.  Ty said to me, “If we had to live in this sports-brella, that would be so sad!”  Agreed. When Ty realized that staying dry was hopeless, he headed straight for the puddles.  Well, I thought, at least I don’t have to go to a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.

The good news is that the players had a good time and that when we got home there were hot showers and chili dogs waiting for us.  Processed meat never tasted so good.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

In an effort to streamline things, we have now abbreviated the whole mess to I am “tired at my root-core.”  And the phrase lives on.  Oh, we can really throw down on this one.  Dave has two jobs working with teenagers that require him to commute to two different cities and he usually works 2 weekends a month as well.  Plus, when he walks through the door, he is expected to be daddy and uncle Dave and be smiling and happy and give me a foot rub.  Me?  Well, I am in charge of five kids ranging in age from 1-14.  Enough said.

We’re tired.

Can I get a witness?

Most days I tackle our life with grace and aplomb.  Not really.  Most days I tackle our life with a gritty determination to do my best and not send anyone into therapy.  To get all the hugs in.  To make sure they are all fed.  To listen to my gut.  To pray. To breathe.  To get a shower in, if not make-up on.  To kiss my husband when he walks through the door.  To call my mom.  To parent with intention.

But April nearly killed me.

And it bled a bit over into May.

These last few weeks included a very sick one year old, three trips to the ER –two trips for head lacerations on two different kids and one of those trips was for me because I broke my toe.  And if anyone thinks I am being a wimp about a broken toe, come on over and ram your toe into the mega vacuum cleaner we own.  No?  Okay, let me continue with my list.  These last few weeks included sports for three of the kids — that’s Track, Soccer, and Martial Arts — a 1/2 dozen birthday parties to ATTEND and two to HOST, Dave starting a new job, and a huge project that I cannot even begin to tell you all about because it is just that top secret.  I am also the room mom for preschool and for some reason I just signed a permission slip last night for Izzy to attend and help out at the school carnival.  Whah?  I know it is all just LIFE and I am not complaining.  But last night I decided to up the ante on our “tired competition.”  As I was coming home from a preschool board meeting after spending a total of four hours and 7 phone calls trying to restore our internet and a Costco run that had my broken toe throbbing, I looked over as Dave was pulling in the driveway from swim practice. I said to him.  “Hey Dave, my root-core just BROKE!”

He stopped.  Looked at me.  “Well, okay… you win!”

A-ha!

I win!

I am the most tiredest of us all!  I win!

I wonder what my prize is?

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

This time, I put some restrictions on their photos.  I told them they could each take only ten pictures.  I wanted to focus their eye — so instead of just random, scatter-shots, the kids would really think about what they wanted to document and preserve.

I think you will be pleased with the results. Here are some samples:

First up, Lily (10).

White Shell

"Destroyed" Crab in Pirate Fort (actually, its plastic)

Next is Izzy (12):

Shoes, Sand, and Seaweed

Self Portrait

Next up, Jade — our resident teenager (14):

Sunset over the Saratoga Passage

Sister at Sunset (sounds like a Magic Treehouse book!)

I’m actually really impressed with Jade’s photos.  Due to a fluke, she ended up shooting her photos on “Aperture Priority.”  Which means, the photographer sets the aperture or F-stop (or controls the BLUR in the background) and the camera will select the shutter speed.  It’s not terribly advanced, but it is a step up from shooing on automatic.  Here’s another one:

Garden Outside Bunkhouse (where the TV fell on her).

And last, Ty (4).  Okay, so he was in a hurry that morning.

Jade's Leg and Back Patio Tile

What was the most fascinating for me was that each child took a completely unique set of pictures!  So, I ended up with 40 pictures of our little vacation spot and I got to do THIS while they “Slaved Away”:

Picture by Grandma Bloo.  Don’t you just LOVE my flirtatious pose?

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

But, I will say, that a good vacation is still something that I look forward to.  Even though with a baby it still means diapers and sleep issues, I find that dealing with those things without “life” is a welcome change. This spring break we went to a place that caters to hermits and recluses like me.  Whidbey Island and our new found vacation home is only about 90 minutes door-to-door from our home.  The part of the island we visited was near Langley and it is a sleepy little village town. Here is city hall:

Langley City Hall

It makes me want to move there!

We found a grocery store that mostly sold milk in glass bottles… from a DAIRY! Luckily we were able to find some in plastic jugs, so we were good.

We always hit up the local bookstore.  There is nothing quite like a small island bookstore:

Here is where Dave and I talked about major life decisions (notice beach in background):

And here is the pirate fort on the beach:

This is the kind of place where the kids walk outside and play for hours.  This is the kind of place where you actually have to watch where you step because of how many shells are littered on the beach. We say gray whales, herons, and bald eagles.  We cannot wait to go back!

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

Oh yeah. If you have kids you all know that trips to the ER are a part of the deal.  But when you have five kids, lets just say they are a regular part of my monthly  planning.  Pick up birthday gifts, buy milk, spend evening at hospital, wash the car…..

We’ve had trips for a broken leg, a major bump to the head, a lip laceration, a mysterious stomach illness, pneumonia, and much much more.  Each comes with its own story.  Here’s the most recent.

So, on our recent family trip, we decided to add HEAD LACERATION to the list.

The story is quite simple, actually.  Jade and Lily were trying to close the sticky bottom drawer on the dresser in their room — upon which rested a large TV set. Said sticky drawer continued to stick.  Jade and Lily, however, continued to force it, thus creating a rocking motion that sent the TV plummeting off the dresser.  And, Jade (in true Jade -form) pushes her little sister out of the way and then catches the TV and thus prevents any deduction to our damage deposit.  BUT, before she catches the TV it ricochets off her head. Yup, her HEAD.

So, Dave got to drive her along dark country roads in the middle of the night, following a map, to the local island hospital.  They almost gave her stitches, but came away with her wound glued back together.  Seen here after a day of healing:

Jade and her Head Lac

It looked worse the night before. 

So, the day after her “ordeal,” Jade says to me, “Yeah, the doctor told me that I cannot shower or take a bath until the laceration heals.”  And then she sorta slumps down and shakes her head back and forth.  

Dave, however, sits straight up and says, “That is NOT what the doctor said.”  He looks at me, shakes HIS head.  Looks back at Jade and says, “The doctors said to be careful not to get the wound wet while bathing or showering.”  Jade looks right back at him as if he is speaking Spanish or Farsi or Japanese.  Shrugs.  Then walks off.  Dave looks at me and asks, “WHY DOES SHE SAY THINGS LIKE THAT?”  I say, “8th grade girl.”  I Shrug. And then walk off.

Over a week later and life has returned to normal.  We are back into our life here in the burbs, I am buried under laundry, kids are going in different directions.  One Tuesday night I head over to the junior high and pick Jade up from track practice.  It was a cold, blustery day and Jade is shivering when she hops in the mini-van.  I look at her and say, “OH, I am so glad that you are about to jump in the shower to warm up!”

Wait for it.

“Oh,” she replies, “I can’t shower.”

“Why,” I ask in complete innocence.

She then lifts her hair to reveal her head wound.

So she really did think Dave was speaking Spanish or Farsi or Japanese.

“Do you remember the conversation with Uncle Dave about this?”

Blank Look.

“Do you mean you have not showered since  vacation?????!!!??!”

Blank Look.

“GET THEE TO A SHOWER!”

We arrive home and I say to Dave, ” Why does she do things like that?”

“8th grade girl,” he replies.

(I bet he had been carrying that one around  just waiting to use it.)

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

I am not trying to be self-effacing, but the hard bitter truth is that, well, I have let me hair sorta flounder.  And by flounder, I mean, look really bad most of the time.

I have pretty much learned to convince myself that a pony tail transformed into a bun with my bangs clipped back (since they have not been trimmed in months) is, well, rather bohemian looking.  Yeah, that’t it… bohemian.. or even better… Suburban Bohemian.  I just can’t quite understand why the look hasn’t caught on… okay, not really.  I totally get it.

I knew things had gotten to apocalypic proportions when I found a matte of hair in my hair.  Ya know, the kind of thing you might find on your dog or cat.  Then I actually had to stop and think…. huh… when was the last time I brushed my hair?  I mean, like really BRUSHED it.  Hard. When I couldn’t remember, I knew I was in trouble.  But it didn’t really stop me from just pushing this mop into another rag-tag pony tail, shrugging my shoulders and heading downstairs in a bee-line to the coffee pot.  Later that night, my husband cut out the matte.  Sexy, eh?

Let me back up.  I have really thick hair.  Like  enough-for-three-people thick.  Really.  So finding a hairstyle that actually works is sorta like finding (enter cliche) a needle in a haystack. So, when time and money are scarce, I tend to sorta give up on the whole epic hairstyle adventure.  Then I buy hair bands and have Izzy work up some sort of “do” that I can pass off with “Hey, my 12 year old did my hair!” and then I am good to go.  At least no one will acuse me of being vain.

Okay, a little bit vain because I am not showing you a picture.

The good news is this. It finally has gotten to the point where even I can’t stand it and so  I have a hair appointment TONIGHT in Seattle.

I am afraid of what Heather might say to me.  Like, “You are NOT using Costco shampoo and conditioner?”  Or “Seriously?  What do you expect me to do with this mess?” Or ” It’s been a while… I mean, a WHILE.”  

But I am hopeful that she can make my pony tail look much much better.

Pictures coming later this week.  And a halo for Heather.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.

Two weeks ago Dave lost his swim coaching job.  

Now, I know this is not THAT big of deal in the scheme of things.  I do.  I really do.  I have friends right now that are facing much much worse. But it has just sorta been awful dealing with it anyway.

So the last two weeks have amounted to an emotional roller coaster with a dash of personal betrayal thrown in to make the ride even more stomach clenching.  And what we have at the end of it is one more person that we can scratch right out of our wedding pictures (if you are wondering, the scratch count is now at 4…).  And one less job.  

I would love to go into more detail, but that would be a firmly planted footstep traveling down the LOW road and I am trying to stay if not on the HIGH road, than at least hovering somewhere around “middle road” or “trying-to-avoid-feelings-of utter-vengence” road.  

Dave losing this job has taken its toll on us.   It wasn’t enough to watch the athletes left behind sob their eyes out or to feel Dave’s passion for swimming fall on unappreciative-boss ears.  But now we are left with that emptiness that follows an upheaval.  That question of “where do we go from here”?  And none of the answers feel that great.  

And, I am not good with limbo… with the unknown… with the “what nows?”  In fact, I would venture to say that I am very very bad at handling those things. So, a lot of my OOMPH is gone.  I know I will come around.  I always do. But this is one of those fall-down-scrape-your-knees-and-get-dusty experiences where you just sorta lie in the dirt for a bit, then ya sit up, then you cry, then you crawl over to the grass, then you call your family on the cell phone, and THEN you finally get up, limp home, put the bandaids on, and drink yourself into s stupor before trying again.

But we will try again.  Soon, I hope.

©2010 MamaBloo. All Rights Reserved.