Buzzes and Buzzkills

Given the sad state of Ptolemy's hair post-Xanthe, we finally buzzed it.  I can't say that I love it, but it is entertaining how silly he looks.  We're going to put glasses on him so he can look just like Dad.  On the plus side, it's a cheap haircut, since Scott has clippers.  Never a dull moment here.

Speaking of which, I ran out of gas on Crestwood Road yesterday.  I always wondered how long I could drive on empty, and if my car would start freaking out if it really was out of gas.  The answers to those questions are: two days and no.  Lights didn't blink, things didn't ding, the car just stopped.  I coasted to the stop sign at the bottom of the hill and turned on my hazard lights.  Buzzkill, huh?  Thank heavens Ari was with me because I was only a couple of blocks from the shop.  I sent her with the cello my customer was coming to pick up, while I sat in the car with the babies and pondered my next move,  which was calling my dad, since Scott was in court.

While Dad was busy coming to my rescue, a dentist from the building I was stranded in front of came and put gas in the car from his lawnmower stash.  Still, the car wouldn't turn over.  Tziporah was sweaty and Ptolemy was anxious.  He kept shouting, "I needa go home now!  Take me home now!"  I thought I could use our situation as a learning moment for Ptolemy, so I suggested that we say a prayer that our car would start.  In church when people try this, their children never go ballistic and scream, "NOOOOOOOOOO!  No!  We don't needa say a prayer!  Nooooooooooo!"  So we didn't, because it just seemed like shouting a prayer over Ptolemy's adamant refusals would be weird.  So no teaching moments here.  Just hot, sweaty kids in a car that's out of gas a block from our destination because I am an idiot.

At last, a dear neighbor of mine stopped and pushed my car around the corner and out of traffic, and then it started, just in time for my sister-in-law Emily to spot me and stop, and for my dad to come to the rescue, and for Ari to return from the shop.  All's well that ends well.

And that's the buzz for today.

Shark Attack

Ari has been taking a fun art class from a very talented neighbor of ours.  Today was the last of the six sessions that it took to make their fish masterpieces.  It's quite a detailed process!  Ellison's sting ray and Henry's killer whale turned out darling.  Ari's pufferfish, however, came home with a mortal wound in its side and blood dripping out of its mouth. 

Her explanation was that a shark attacked it, and that next year she will make a shark in the class.  That way, when she displays the pufferfish and the shark together, the blood will make sense.  You know I'm blaming this on Shark Week, right?  My kids are enthralled.  I understand the fascination, of course.  I have had an interest in sharks ever since I was two and my parents thought it was cute to teach me the scientific names of sharks.  Two year olds who talk about "Carcharidan carcharius, the Great White Shark" might be more creepy than the actual maritime predator...as are kids who make models of fish who have been attacked by sharks.  Hey, at least she didn't make a seafaring sponge.

Shortcut

"Xanthe gave me a shortcut."

Yep.  She did.  Is seven too old to be cutting hair yourself?  Don't answer if I already told you about the Olivia Newton-John episode when I was eleven.

Tierra del Fuego?

I found myself in the car alone, after dropping off Golda and Ruby at dance.  I was chewing gum but, seeing my window for completing a thought, I spit the gum out.  I didn't want anything to distract me in case I had a moment of clarity.  See, I'm having trouble distinguishing between "not procrastinating anymore" and "making rash decisions."

This time of year is made for changes.  In the fall, everything is new and bright and exciting.  So naturally, I want to quit everything and start some new projects.  I'm giving my kids away and getting a whole new batch, a group of them who are eager to try jujitsu and bagpipes.  You know, things I haven't done yet.  Does that seem rash?  Can you see why I'm having issues with decision-making?  Because I am just lucid enough to realize I am a loose cannon.  It's due partly to being on the receiving end of conversations that start out "If I could have any Skylander in the world..." and end, well, never.  These conversations don't end.  Everyone just keeps rambling indefinitely, making my brain feel like it belongs to a crack-addicted espresso junkie.

What happens when I spit out my gum and try to think is:  "I just want to jump in the car and go to Mexico.  No, drive to Tierra del Fuego.  Take four or five months.  I could totally home school.  I'll text myself a note to look into kidnapping insurance.  Scott would have to stay here and earn money, but that's OK.  It's not like it's a big deal to drive seven kids the length of South America while teaching six different curriculums, by myself, compared to all the carpools I'm about to set up.  Oh, but then we would miss ballet.  A lot.  And Nutcracker!  Hoo boy.  We can't miss that.   And Mr. Marsden is such a good teacher, I can't lose Ari's spot with him, and she loves Marisa so much so we can't quit her!  And Freestone is doing so well on violin!  And Mr. Johnson is so perfect for Ruby.  OK, so we'll keep all the dance classes and all the music classes and I'll keep teaching and what did I decide about Xanthe and tumbling?  I'm going to sign her up.  And I'll have to ask her about swim team.  And find an art class for Ari.  She is so gifted.  Aaggh!  I just want to gather up the family and leave.  Drive to Tierra del Fuego.  Ooh, deja vu."

OK, new plan.  I'll surround myself with all seven of my original kids, 24 hours a day until I'm just semi-coherent, which shouldn't take long.  In fact, that part of the plan might already be in place.  Then Scott can put us all on a plane and fly us to Argentina, where we can run barefoot on the beach, growing dreadlocks and talking about Skylanders.  That way, I won't need to think.  I love these beautiful children until my heart aches.  It's just trying to do seven kids AND reality at the same time, that's absurd.  Can't be done.  I think we'd have a better shot at success living in a tropical hut and scrapping the whole public school thing.  I'm going to call Delta.

Nuthin'

Remember how we had that deal that the kid who watered the flowers didn't have to do any dishes?  Ain't nobody done nuthin' around here. 

Clear Blue

I fall into the clearest blue and float, refreshed,
Looking up at the emptiest azure.
Nothing between heaven and earth matters, nothing on the surface of this planet.
I could glide away.

Then I hear a sound like a happy crow.  It is my baby, and it tethers me.
I am newly aware of the earth, my home, and all the detail and significance of it.

I peek.
I see her smile and I am glad to be back.
I like it here.

Sacrament Meeting

Why do those people come if they're just going to leave after the first meeting?

I'm glad you're here.

Does that woman have to let her child run around in circles in the aisle?

I'm glad you're here.

I saw that guy buying cigarettes.  What is he doing at church?

I'm glad you're here.

That family clearly didn't have enough time to get ready.  They should go home and try again.

I'm glad you're here.

The missionaries challenged that man to baptism and he said no.  Why does he bother to come?

I'm glad you're here.

Didn't I hear that those people were having marital problems?  Look at them pretending everything is fine.

I'm glad you're here.

That girl only came because her friends are here.

I'm glad you're here.

I could use some forgiveness myself.  For being too judgmental, for starters.

I'm glad I'M here.

Matthew 11:28...Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

The Oh!-Lympics

Tziporah is a child prodigy.  She is already competing in the Oh!-Lympics.  (As in, "Oh, how cute!)
Watch this.
And this.
And this.
And this.

I haven't been able to catch her on film trying to crawl while dragging her head across the ground, but she can't seem to lift up her head and achieve forward motion at the same time.  It's hilarious.  We don't care if she can get anywhere, just as long as she entertains us with her efforts!

Mud Bog

I think the slip 'n' slide has lost its allure.  The kids tired of it today and moved on to their next idea, which just happened to be building a mud bog in the field.  It took six kids, ten kitchen spoons, three hours and a shovel, and the mud bog was complete.  All the little mud hens basked in the mud for hours before allowing the slip 'n' slide to wash away all the dirt.  I'm sure their skin has a healthy glow about it today.

Before I had kids, a swarm of little people who resembled poorly constructed mud pies would have probably made my hair stand on end.  Now my reaction is, "Fun!!  Need more water?"  I remember another ballet teacher who didn't have kids telling me, her eyes bulging with horror, that a student had had an accident on the floor!  I think my response was, "And?" 

That's literally nothing ten seconds and a whole roll of paper towels swiftly dispatched can't fix, and before anyone is the wiser.  Vomit, diarrhea, pureed peaches...these are the reasons we have water.  Has there ever been a mess that couldn't be washed away?  Not in my experience.  (Insert object lesson on the Atonement here, if you are so inclined.)

If you are looking for a good, grubby, squishy way to get six chapters of your highly entertaining novel read with no interruptions, just throw the kids some shovels, spoons and a hose.  I promise, they will take care of the rest.

4:00?

Ptolemy's dinner: peanut butter, frosting and marshmallows.

Let's see...what is on my calendar for today?  Not much, except that it says "4:00."  Usually when there is just a time and no description on my calendar, it denotes a ballet class.  Since we have 20 of them a week, I don't write a description of each one.  I just know someone needs to be in the vicinity of the ballet alley at that time.  But this 4:00 is not a ballet class.  So should I go to the shop at 4:00?  Stay home?  Stay close to my phone and wait for someone to call and ask where I am?  Show up at one of my visiting teaching homes?  Drop a kid off somewhere?  But where?  Hmmm...

Last night I took all the kids to the pool and enjoyed a glorious evening with the King cousins and the Scheullers.  It was heaven to finally be at the pool.  Except that when I checked my phone at eleven PM, I had missed two violin lessons!  While I frittered away a lazy summer evening, my students were wondering where I was.  I'm so embarrassed!  I had even texted them to remind them of lessons earlier that day.  I cannot believe I have sunk this low.  I did get some big, major things done yesterday, and I have found that as a general rule, if it seems like I am getting a superhuman amount of stuff done, I am probably forgetting about something else.  It never fails.  I should be very wary of any thought resembling, "Wow!  I can't believe everything is falling into place so perfectly!"  Red flag!!  Someone is probably waiting for me at a locked door somewhere.  Or there is a small child outside of a dark ballet studio who is sure her family has forgotten she exists.  Just last week, immediately after a conversation that ended with me saying, "OK, I'll see you in an hour," I proceeded to completely forget about the swim party that I was planning on going to...in ONE hour.  I remembered the next day.

Summer has officially gone off the rails.  I figured out how it works:  June is busy and fun and we're still accomplishing things and sticking to a schedule and loving summer.  July is full of travel and holidays and BBQ's, and by the time August rolls around, all the kids are sleeping in until nine and waking up with cotton candy in their hair.  The childhood equivalent of a hangover.  At every music lesson, I hear myself muttering, "Yeah, sorry, we were out of town this week..."  Except we're in town now, just highly unmotivated.  I might have to start making stuff up.  "Sorry we're not prepared, um...a mountain lion got in our house and the violin was on the floor and got stepped on, with all the animal control people and the tranquilizer darts and...I know right?  It was crazy...yeah."

So if I have plans with you at 4:00 today, please let me know.  Unless you want to hear a ludicrous excuse later about why I wasn't there, which could be entertaining.  I'll try to make it a good one.  Oh...I think I hear growling.  Better go!