Life lessons

In other disturbing news (I know that isn't a great way to begin a story in which there hasn't been any other news, disturbing or otherwise, but who cares - I got your attention, right?) Our neighbor, who is only eight, and her mother, who is more than eight but one year less than forty, asked Jack to buy a rooster, which he did. He immediately showed the rooster to Maggie and Maggie immediately loved the rooster. She named him Tom, although Lenny would have been more appropriate.

Maggie woke up the past couple of days and couldn't wait to go feed Tom some grass. She talked about Tom quite a bit and I think she may have even dreamed about him. Then Jack, after witnessing the sweetness of this relationship, got really nervous and confessed to me that he got himself into a jam and didn't know what to do. The jam was that our neighbor and her daughter only wanted Jack to get the rooster so he could kill it and fry it. They thought this would be "fun".

Now this posed  some problems. One was that Maggie had become attached to the rooster, even though Jack only had it for three days. Another was that I began to think my neighbors were sick freaks and I truly don't like thinking things like this (okay, I like it a little).  My thought was that it would have been somewhat simpler, and much less disgusting, to drive the two miles to the local Publix and buy a chicken that had already been properly slaughtered.

Another issue was that whenever my children kill lubbers, the little girl member of this disturbed family tells my children that they are horrible for killing one of God's creatures. So there was a bit of hypocrisy going on. Kate immediately picked up on this, said something about it to the girl, and the reply was, "well, God put us in charge of animals and chickens are for eating," and then Kate said to me, "this is why people can't stand Christians. They make no sense." To which I agreed. It should be noted that there are many people I can't stand. I don't stop at Christians.

Anyway, we went off to church on Sunday (that's what good Christians do)and while we were there, the other Christians stayed home, killed the chicken, and then hid all remnants of it so that Maggie wouldn't know what had happened. When we got home Maggie ran over to see Tom and they all lied and told her that they brought Tom back to the farm because he missed his mommy. Maggie cried for several minutes.

Things were getting ridiculous and the humor in all of this had reached a level that was crossing over into the insane. I wanted to say, "Oh so while I was receiving the body of Christ, you were all butchering an innocent chicken," but I have found that sometimes people really don't appreciate my sense of humor, especially when it concerns religious matters, so I let that one go, but I did say, "well, you wouldn't have to lie if you believed in what you did." And they all looked down shamefully and my mission was accomplished.

Then I decided to turn the whole thing into a life lesson, because if there is one thing I know for sure it is that my children love when I turn everything into a life lesson. Trust me - they adore me for this. Go ahead and try it on your own kids and you'll see what I mean.

Anyway - Life lesson? My life is somewhat boring and I'm glad I have sick freaks for neighbors or I would have nothing to write about. Maybe if I'm lucky one of them will want some fresh beef real soon.

Friday thoughts

I've fallen back into my caffeine addiction. I did so well for months, and then a few weeks ago I went nuts and had a whole pot of iced coffee. I blame it on the weather. It was cool and crisp and I felt obligated to have a drink containing something with the flavor of pumpkin in it. Even though it left me feeling horrible and jittery I decided to do it again the next day, because that's the kind of person I am. If I'm going to do something unhealthy I'm going to do it big. What's the point of moderation? I mean you might as well not be doing it at all. I tried to make myself feel better by drinking a huge glass of water after each cup of iced coffee, but I was spending inordinate amounts of time in the bathroom so I cut some of the water out. Yesterday I only had two iced coffees and today I am hoping to cut it down to one and just be done with it.

After complaining about homeschooling yesterday I feel obliged to say that we are having good day so far. I'm always torn about whether or not I should even express any negative feelings I am having about homeschooling, or anything at all for that matter. Sometimes I think if you go through life pretending everything is perfect you actual start believing it, so I may try that for a while. And honestly, my life is pretty cushy. I mean here I am sitting in front of a computer being completely self-absorbed. Does it get any better?

Greg took Jane bathing suit shopping last night. I'm happy that my husband releases me from this horrendous experience. I hate shopping. I especially hate shopping with 14 year old girls. I bond with Jane over many things, but shopping is not one of them. Shopping brings out the worst in me, so not only do we not bond, but I am pretty sure that I have damaged her beyond repair during some of our shopping experiences. Anyway, they were gone for two hours, but couldn't find anything. This would have sent me into a rage, but Greg just came home and said something about going out again some other time. He wasn't the least bit annoyed about wasting two hours of his life. Are you waiting for me to tell you my guy is the best? I'm not going. I hate when people say their hubby is the best. I always want to say, "You mean the best for YOU, make sure you say he's the best for YOU, not for every other woman." I actually stopped reading Pioneer Woman because she was always writing in a way that made me think she almost wants everyone to covet her husband and his butt, which really is not that hot. Sometimes all the ways you adore your husband should just be kept to yourself, especially if it includes the way you think he has such a great butt. I'm sorry, but I speak the truth. Women should not want other women lusting after their hubby. It's gross.

Wow. That second cup of iced coffee I wasn't going to have, but just finished, is really working it's charms on me! I bet you all just love my previous rant. Whatever - I'm not taking it out. I'm sick of worrying that someone may be offended by something I say, or that someone may think I'm insane for making such observations.

There must be a bad accident somewhere because I've been hearing sirens for awhile. Every time Maggie hears sirens she says, "Oh no, someone hit a bag of puppies!" I have no idea where this is coming from. We reassure her that's not what just happened, but she keeps saying it.

My girls are done with their assignments so I need to go finish up the rest of our work. I want to be done early today because this is the best weather day ever and who wants to be wasting it inside? And tonight is going to be even better. I love a nice cool evening - there's something so romantic about it. Maybe me and my fab and luscious hubby will take a midnight stroll!! And I'll tell you all about how wonderfully romantic it was in my next post.

bookcases

I read this book over the summer called Bird by Bird, written by Anne Lemott. I'm not a big fan of her, which is why as soon as I saw the book sitting on my sister's table I picked it up and decided to read it. I figured it would give me something to complain about. The last time I read something by her I spent most of my time trying hard not to throw the book across my bedroom. But alas, Anne surprised me this time because once I started reading Bird by Bird I realized I loved it. In fact, I couldn't put it down and went about ignoring everyone for a full day just so I could get through it.

The book was about writing and all the reasons we should write as much as we can. I was inspired to come home and write everyday, but obviously not that inspired because I've barely managed to get out one blog post a week since I read that book.

Since the truth is that there is no chance of me writing everyday, or even once a week, I decided to write a really long post about everything that has been going on over here. Back when I was writing daily I would have taken each one of these things and stretched them out into their own little post, thereby boring you on a daily basis (and really, who is "you"? Does anyone read blogs anymore? They seem so passe, don't they?), but now I have done you the favor of reducing it all down into one long post. This saves everyone time. Here goes.

I finally bought some bookcases. They were cheap and not at all easy to put together. I had been wanting to get some for quite a while, as our books were just stacked precariously all over the place. Maggie spent everyday kicking and throwing them around and I spent everyday picking them up, until finally one day a couple of weeks ago I just decided not to pick them up and they were left all over the living room floor for everyone to trip over, and there they sat, not seeming to bother anyone. I kept telling my children that we should apply for a spot on Hoarders, that's how bad it looked in here. If my Nana Devito was reading this right now she would be shaking her head disapprovingly and yelling out, "she's a Loatman." (Loatman is my dad's surname.)

When I opened the bookcase boxes I found that there were close to one million screws and nails and other things that need to be put into the bookcases in order for them to stand upright. It was very disappointing. The first one took over two hours to put together. I wisely sent the kids over to a neighbor's house because I sensed I may drop one or two f bombs in the whole process. I was dripping with sweat and maybe even some tears, but when I finally saw the first one put together I was so proud of myself that I forgot all the bad stuff that transpired beforehand. It was just like childbirth. Caught in the emotion of it all I wanted to rush into opening that second box.

And then I looked at the one I had just put together and realized that part of it was put on backwards. It's hard to describe but the unfinished parts of the wood were facing out. I was reminded of the motto I made up for myself months and months ago - "Ann Marie - doing things half-assed since 1969." Thankfully I buy paint on an almost daily basis, due to my love of painting and repainting everything in my house every other week, perhaps in an effort to get high off of paint fumes. I found some black paint and hurried up and painted the area that needed it and hoped Greg wouldn't notice, which he didn't.

The second one was put together much quicker and with much less sweat and tears. Jane was even allowed inside to help me, but three minutes into it she claimed to be very ill and ran in her room, only to come out when the phone rang and saw it was a friend of hers. I reminded her that she probably shouldn't talk on the phone, what with her feeling so ill, but she told me it just turned out to be gas. I know I shouldn't tell everyone that embarrassing tidbit about her, but in this case I think she deserves it. I'm vindictive and proudly so. If my Nana Devito was reading this right now she would smile and say, "She's a Michele." (her maiden name)

Now my house is lovely and organized and I just know it will stay that way forever, because if there is one thing I know about my family it's that when I work hard at doing something around here they completely respect me and do their best to keep things tidy. Well, maybe not their best, but they will talk about how nice the house looked for that one week when we decided to be organized.

My plan to recap all the events of my recent days into one post has proved futile. No matter how you slice it, I have a knack for taking what could have been a two sentence remark and turning into a long winded, pointless post so now I am forced to finish this post and not relay any of the other things I was going to tell you about.

Please endure the picture post.

Pedro say, "Please stop." How could I resist taking a picture of the South of the Border theme park. I don't know what the theme is - something like "Hi, our mascot is a short, fat, buck toothed Mexican, but hopefully no one will notice that it's slightly offensive, what with our awesome fireworks store."

Greg's brother, Paul, and Maggie in Philadelphia. This was our first stop. Paul doesn't have children, but he was mighty impressed that we do. He thinks we deserve medals for raising children (actually he thinks mostly I do, forget about Greg). Try to surround yourself with people like this. It does wonders for the self esteem.

Greg and Jane eating at some restaurant in Philadelphia. Could you just die over her happy expression? She was nervous because she wanted a Po' Boy sandwich but couldn't pronounce it and was worried we were going to make her try and tell the waiter what she wanted.

St. Bridget Roman Catholic Church in Philly. I should have taken a picture of the inside. It was gorgeous and my kids were in awe. We don't really have anything like that here where we are now.

Greg's mom. She scored points when I heard her tell Paul ,"I didn't realize that was Greg's wife, she looks like one of the kids." Come on, like I could let that one go untold. But really, don't I look divine in that dress?

New York State now. Route 23, on the way up to the Catskills for the day. According to some people you can see five states from this view. I'm really bad at geography, so I am not sure what those states would be, but I'm pretty sure one of them is New York.

Windham, New York - a lovely little town.

The Post Office next to the house where we lived when I was pregnant with Jane*. I used to go in everyday and talked with the woman working there. She stills works there. We went in to say hi and told her we lived next door 14 years ago and she said, "Oh, I remember you, you were really pregnant." I really was huge. People would routinely ask ,"Are you having twins?" It never bothered me because I'm not at all concerned about what people think of me. Totally secure.

The view when you stepped out our front door of the house we lived in, the one where I was obesely pregnant.

Another view, just down the street from where we lived. Talk about life in the boonies. Is there any wonder I got pregnant? And obese?

Again, about a mile down our street. Gorgeous. We were blessed to have lived there. Seriously - although at the time I thought it was awful.

Another blessing - my Nana who is 100. The girls are laughing because she had just asked them, "So, are you girls married?" And when they said no she said, "GOOD!" She was happy that day.

In Burlington now, Anthony with huge fish he caught.

I know, she really belongs in a magazine. I mean look at that hair! Trust me, she blended in Burlington where people are so concerned about the environment they've taken to not showering so as to conserve water. Sorry Burlington, you deserve that. Please, go take a collective bath. Please?

Sunset over Lake Champlain. Nope, as pretty as it is, I still haven't recovered from the general lack of cleanliness we saw there. We lived there for four years. I have no idea how I got used to it.

Token shot of Vermont and cows. This is what we saw when we woke everyday.

Back to see my family one last time. My sister's kids and mine.

Eighteen days of fun and I just realized that I didn't take any pictures of my sister, brothers, mother, father, best friend. That's a good thing. I was too busy laughing, eating, having fun, not cooking a single meal, not washing a single dish,not shopping for single ounce of food, not driving a single child to a single activity.What more could a mom ask for? It was good times, trust me.

* I had to go back and edit this. I originally wrote that I was pregnant with Maggie, but had to correct and say I was pregnant with Jane. What can I say, I've lost my mind. It happens.

Anthony and the grasshopper - and the window

I know, I'm always writing about Anthony. It's obnoxious, isn't it? It's just that he's so darn full of material and I know if I don't jot it all down it will get lost in my mind, and someday I won't be able to regale Anthony's own kids with stories about what a nice mom I was for putting up with him. Here is a close approximation of the events that took place on one recent spring afternoon.

Nurse Gail : "Hi Ann Marie, it's Gail. I have your son in here. He just ate a grasshopper."

Me: "Nope, that doesn't sound anything like Anthony. Are you sure it's him?"

Gail : "Yes, it looks like Anthony."

Me : waiting for her to tell me why she called me over this, I finally decide to say -"So, what's the deal, why are you calling?"

Gail : " We think you should pick him up. He may get sick."

Me: (What I wanted to say, but elected not to )- "Are you kidding me? It's noon. Me and the girls are eating lunch and then we're going to finish our math work and then we're going to relax and read, and if I have to pick up Anthony none of those things will happen. And I mean really, it was a grasshopper. He'll live, trust me. Have you ever seen Man vs. Wild, because Anthony has, he watches every chance he gets and I'm pretty sure this is where he got the idea from. That guy eats grasshoppers all the time and he's still alive. "

Me: what I really said - "Okay, that's probably a good idea, I'll be over in a minute."

Then I called Greg and told him Anthony ate a grasshopper and I had to go pick him up. He asked why and I told him they thought he would get sick and Greg said " You gotta be kidding me? I guess they never saw Man vs. Wild." I tell you, that show is a big hit in this house.

When I walked into the nurse's office to get Anthony I noticed he had been crying. I asked him what was wrong. That was when Nurse Gail informed me she told him how bad it was to eat a grasshopper, it could have been poisonous, and it was so wrong to kill an innocent animal. I have no idea when grasshoppers turned into animals, but anyway, it was at this point that I realized the school actually thought this was pretty serious and if I wanted to get out of there alive I was going to have to put on my fake face and pretend I thought it was serious, too. Many times I have a hard time being fake and I sensed this was going to be one of those times, so I said a quick prayer and tried to be as compliant as I could. And guess who walked in just after I said my prayer? His teacher and then the vice principle.

They were also flabbergasted over the fact that a nine year old boy ate a grasshopper and let's be fair, the kid didn't eat it, he bit it's head off and spit it out because it didn't taste very good. They asked him what was next, they told him killing innocent grasshoppers was wrong and mean, and then they asked my most favorite question of all - "why did you do this, what is going on in your life that would make you do something like this?" I think they were hoping this is when Anthony would turn on me and finally tell them all about the ritualistic killing we do on various insects in our backyard, but I train my kids well and he just looked at them with his gigantic, brown, tear filled eyes and said, "I did it because I'm a boy and boys do stuff like this."

I wanted to go over and do that whole fist pump thing and give him a big hug, but instead I stepped in and said, "well, I think it's time to go home, we don't want him getting sick right here in the office, that wouldn't be good", even though I was secretly thinking it would be a little good, considering they were making him feel like a sh*t heel over biting the head off a grasshopper.

We got in the car and Anthony was quite nervous. He thought he was in big trouble. He asked what his punishment was going to be. This is where parenting can sometimes be tricky. I teach my kids to respect authority, to do what adults tell them, to not answer back. I didn't want Anthony to know that I thought the school handled this wrong. Yes, it was foolish to eat a grasshopper, but some of the things they said to Anthony were even more foolish than what he did. I knew if I let him know I disagreed with the school it would lead down a slippery slope, one he would promptly tell his teacher about the next day. So I looked at him and asked him what he thought his punishment should be. He thought about it and said, "No computer for the week?" which I thought was perfect. Really, they did me a favor and I should have run back in and thanked them.

I wrote this post last night but never posted it. I got busy and forgot to hit publish. I turned the computer off and went into the kitchen to get Maggie something. I heard a smash, a sound like glass breaking. I turned around and looked out my kitchen window and there was Anthony, peering inside, looking at me with an expression that led me to believe he may have been the person responsible for that noise. And then I saw a golf club on the front lawn. Yes, he hit a golf ball through his bedroom window and he must have hit it pretty hard judging from the size of the hole that is now there. Well, there isn't a hole there now, there is a large amount of packing tape covering the hole, a lovely reminder that Anthony does always provide us with excitement and laughs galore.