Deja Vu

J planted a bean at school.  He watered it and gave it sunlight.  He wished fervently that it would grow.  To no avail.  He came home with nothing more than a cup of mud.

This made him sad.

I understand EXACTLY how he feels.  I, too was a failure when it came to gardening in grade school.  Come to think of it, I am STILL a failure at gardening.

But my grade school story is much more poignant than any of my current gardening failures.  Recorded in my journal with all the raw emotions of my childlike psyche.

Today is Wednesday.  For Mother's Day we're planting three flowers.  For science we have to keep a little journal about our flowers.  I can't wait until my flowers sprout and bloom.

Today is Tuesday.  We didn't write in our journals.

Today is Wednesday.  We're making three flowers for Mother's Day, but mine's never going to sprout because, mine was nearly right under the light now it's practily out from under the grow light.  I feel like running away and hide and cry.  I feel teribale.  Why won't it sprout like all the other ones are?  Huh?  Just tell me that!

Today is Thursday.  The same thing happened today.  Somebody keeps putting my flower pot out from under the grow light.  Who is doing it?  I'm getting tired of it!

Today is Friday.  My flowers will not sprout!  I'm getting really MAD!

Today is Monday.  My plant still won't sprout.  When is my plant going to sprout?  I know when my plant is going to sprout!  NEVER!  I feel like running off somewhere and crying.  I feel so bad.

Today is Thursday.  I replanted my flowers yesterday.  I hope they sprout soon. 

Today is Monday.  My plant hasn't sprouted yet and yesterday was Mother's Day.  I don't know why it won't sprout, but I want to know why my plant won't sprout! 
WHY WON'T MY PLANT SPROUT????

I wish I could still blame my gardening woes on the nefarious children who were systematically hogging the grow light.  But, no.  The failure is all my own.

In an attempt to help J feel better about his little cup of mud, I helped him plant some seeds which we had on hand.  None of them have sprouted. 

Surprise.  Surprise.

Hostage Situation

We were sitting around the dinner table recently, trying to get the kids to be quiet enough so we could say prayer and begin the meal.  Sometimes that takes a while.

R noticed the plate of freshly grilled food in the middle of the table.  She proceeded to stand on her chair and began a loud chant,  "I don't like that!  I don't like that!  I don't like that!"  Our requests for her to sit down were drowned out completely.  When her chant finally faded a little, J piped up,  "No, R.  It just LOOKS yucky.  But really, it's ok inside."

The meat WAS a little dark. 

By this time, R had climbed down off her chair and had hidden under the table to get farther away from the food she professed not to like.

J continued his efforts to convince her that it wasn't so bad by saying,  "R, Daddy burned the hostages.  But that's just on the outside.  Inside, they're ok."

What a relief! I'd hate to be married to a guy that burns hostages inside AND out.

Mother's Day

This day was made for me.  Because I am a PERFECT mother.

Except that I sometimes yell at my children.

And I don't always make them eat their vegetables.

Not being able to carve out any time for myself sometimes makes me grumpy.

And sometimes, I force my children to go outdoors just so I won't have to hear them.

There are days that I let my baby eat underwear.  She is drawn to them.  I don't know why.  She will zero in on them even when amidst a mountain of clean laundry on the floor.

Yes, I sometimes toss my clean laundry on the floor before putting it away.

I never really LIKE to help them with homework. Except reading. When they're old enough to read something interesting.

Every once in a while, I pretend not to notice a misbehavior just so
I don't have to discipline it.

I often mumble answers without really hearing what my kids are talking about.

I sometimes attest that I surely did NOT smell that poopy diaper before handing
the baby over to her Daddy.

I am relieved when a sports season ends or when a lesson is cancelled so we can
just stay home.

I fantasize about the day when my husband and I can again go on vacation without the children. Or out to dinner. Or to the grocery store.

I feel a certain guilty pleasure when we have scheduling conflicts that prevent us from going to school functions like open houses and carnivals.

Every once in a while, I buy myself a candy bar and eat the whole thing in the closet. Just so I don't have to hear, "Can I have some?" Or R's version, which is even harder to deny. "It's ok, you will be nice to share with me!"

My tiny, little flaws notwithstanding, I am a perfect mother. That's my story,
and I'm sticking to it.

And just as surely as I am a perfect mother, we were able to capture
the perfect Mother's Day photo this year.

Except for the psycho looking little boy by my left shoulder.  And the baby who looks extremely suspicious . . . of something.  And the little miss someone who was

showing off her panties and blowing a dandelion.

 

 Who wanted to be doing absolutely anything besides be in a nice photo with her Mama.  So she ran off to do it.  Leaving the psycho looking little boy to hide behind his sister and be reprimanded by a grumpy-looking lady.  Who is that, anyway?

Again, the perfect photo.  Except for the underwear.  And the fact that little miss someone still didn't want to be there and had to be held against her will.  And the baby who was searching for bugs in her brother's hair.

 So very close.  If it weren't for the screaming thing.  I could try to pass it off as a happy face, I suppose.

Except that she then started biting her captor. 

And that's when chaos broke loose.  But please note that I am STILL smiling. 
That's what perfect mothers do.

At least most of us were having fun.

Even while trying to convince little miss someone to JUST SIT RIGHT HERE

FOR ONE MINUTE!

Suprisingly, S's very best stern face did absolutely nothing to get R to come be in the picture.

She marches to a different tune, apparently.

Here we go, picture perfect.  Oh, except little miss someone started spitting.

Which simultaneously delighted baby B and offended J.

Who turned into a turtle.  But who did NOT show his underwear.

So close.  So close.  Oh well, there's always photoshop.

I sure love these little beasties of mine. 

Family Tree

For Mother's Day gifts this year, we commissioned a very local artist to make one-of-a-kind family trees.  Very local.  As in she lives with us.  And she usually does what we tell her to.  Usually.

K earned more money towards girls camp by making these.  We thought they turned out pretty cool.  She used steel wire (although aluminum is easier to bend, if you can find it.) and plyers.

I made the glass tile pendants.  A little time consuming, but not very hard.  You need glass tiles (available in various sizes online--mine came from etsy).  Photos cut to the size of the tile.  I printed mine on double sided scrapbook paper so the back would have a nice design.  Diamond glaze to spread on the back of the tile to stick the photo to.  After it's dry, spread more on the back of the photo to create a hard, glass-like finish.  Once it's dry, use E6000 to glue on a bail so the pendants can be hung from the branches of the tree.

 

I can't tell you how much I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE having crafty kids!!

What's in a Name?

We were getting ready for church on Sunday morning.  We were actually going to be on time.  Minor miracle.

I woke B up from her morning catnap (which went against EVERY instinct that I have) and put her on the changing table to get her dressed.  The minute I took off her soggy diaper and rolled it up to throw away, she decided to pee all over.  Which elicited a lot of  "Aaaaah!  Aaaaah!  Help!" from me.  Which brought everyone running.  They knew it wasn't something very serious because they could hear the humor in my voice.

"B peed all over the universe."

Which every child had to see for themselves.  From a slight distance.

I was feeling equanimous about the whole situation.  Thanks to the fact that B happened to be laying on one of those absorbant, waterproof mats when she decided to let the geyser loose.  So it didn't make a huge mess, except on her.  Be grateful for the little things.

I had someone start a bath and picked up B, trying to shake most of the pee drips off.  I carried her at arms length and encouraged my curious kids to make way by saying,  "Pee butt comin' through."  They shrieked and scattered.  Worked like a charm.

Except that poor B might have an unfortunate new nickname.