Birthday Parties

While in the middle of finishing up several projects on the computer, my 5 year old son walks over with a pencil in one hand and a piece of paper in his other hand. He asks me to write some "letters" on the paper for him. I type on the computer with one hand while write the following on his paper, "You are invited to Jenna's birthday party." Without thinking, I hand the paper back to him and he skips off back to play.

Ten minutes later as we are heading out the door to the library, my son informs me that I need to "swing by" the post office so that he can put his paper in the mail. Again, I am busy when he announces this so without thinking I casually say that I can't do that since he doesn't have an envelope. He pauses, looks at me, and says, "Can you get me a velope?"

Finally, I take a moment and ask him what he is doing. He tells me that he wants to send an invitation to his friends to come to Jenna's birthday party. Yes, a birthday party for our dog who was born sometime around Christmas. I successfully avoided the planning of a birthday celebration for the dog by using the greatest line that is used by moms around the world, "Well, we are going to have to wait until your dad gets home and ask him what he thinks about this."

Making Soap

My husband is enamored with the agrarian lifestyle. He reads Every Thought Captive every month along with blogs with names like Kansas Milk Maid and TN Farm Girl. His dream is to own a dairy farm of Jersey cows where he can sell raw milk and organic produce. A lovely dream.

I grew up in a suburb of Pittsburgh. It was the first suburb outside the city, and I lived about a mile from the city limits. To say I grew up in the suburbs is a bit of a stretch. It was really an urban neighborhood. I could walk up the street to hop on a bus and be in downtown Pittsburgh in less than 20 minutes. When I went to Grove City College (in a small town an hour north of Pittsburgh), I experienced some culture shock. I had never seen so many cows or cornfields in my life. There are times that I look wistfully at the old city neighborhoods and think how much fun it would be to live there. I am, though, happy with my suburban, minivan driving, life. I think it is safe to say that living on a dairy farm is not my dream.

Now my husband keeps sending me links to his favorite farming blogs with directions on making your own herbal remedies as well as making your own soaps and shampoos. Don't get me wrong, I am all for the simpler lifestyle and making as much as you can from scratch. I am the first to go off on a rant about why organic food and whole foods are the only way to go. I'm just not sure where to fit the making of the soap into my daily schedule. After homeschooling the 5 year old? Before potty training the two year old? In between taking the dog out 50 times a day in the rain? Perhaps while I am cooking dinner, baking bread, or making granola, I can have a pot of soap cooking on the stove as well.

Sleepwalking

When I am stressed, I sleepwalk. My mother has great stories about finding me asleep in places other than my bed and all kinds of strange conversations that she had with me growing up when she thought I was awake, and I was really asleep.

I was fearful when I went to college that I would actually leave my dorm room and end up who knows where. There were times that I got up in the middle of the night and told my roommate crazy stories about spiders or bugs all over the room. There was even a time that I practiced my synchronized swimming routine in my sleep and woke up my roommate in the bunk above me when my leg kicked into her bed. And then during my senior year of college, I did leave my room. I went to another side of the dorm on another floor to get my best friend. I insisted that there was a man in my room and that I needed her help. Being the great friend that she is, she came back to the room with me to make sure it was man-free. She tucked me back into bed and went back to her room. A funny story to be told in the cafeteria the next day.

My husband has hundreds of stories of me waking him in the middle of the night with one insane story or another. It usually involves me being convinced that someone is breaking into our home. My husband is patient and kind and does not complain too much about the lack of sleep. During the stress of the kids resale that I recently took over, the absolute worst happened. He found me on the front lawn. For the first time, I had actually left the house. Fortunately, I wear pajamas.

After the stress of the sale ended, I thought we could all get back to getting a good night's rest. It was not to be. For two weeks afterward, I kept waking my husband up in the middle of the night wanting to know when it was my turn on the register or convinced that someone was stealing all the clothes. I have to admit my ever so patient husband was growing impatient.

Apparently, I have worked through the stress since beginning this week, I am sleeping through the night without incident again. At least until the next sale.

Until Death Do Us Part

We were at our friend's birthday party on Saturday and had a great time. Lots of dress-up clothes and running around a large backyard. A kid's paradise. My 5 year old son spent most of the party dressed in a knight's outfit chasing his friend dressed as a dragon (actually, a teradactyl outfit - no problem for imaginative 5 and 6 year olds). The girls, of course, were dressed as princesses.

My son wanders over to me with a frozen smile on his face and informs me that he has to marry the 7 year old daughter of a good friend. I was a bit shocked and asked why he felt the need to do this. Unknown to him, when he slayed the dragon/teradactyl, he won the hand of the princess and needed to marry her. He looked extrememly stressed (as any 5 year old boy would) so I quickly reassured him that it was only pretend and that he really didn't need to do this. With the same frozen smile on his face, he said, I know, I know. At that moment the 7 year old girl heads into the pile of dress-up clothes and within a few seconds had put together a lovely outfit including a veil. Her sister found a "bridesmaid" dress and they headed up the hillside - frozen, stressed out, smile still in place.

After a moment or two, they come back hand in hand with the bridesmaid and dragon/teradactyl who now appears to be a groomsmen. They inform me, as they head up the driveway, that they are now going on their honeymoon. Since they returned 5 seconds later, I decided not to even ask what they think a honeymoon is all about.

When my husband got home from work that night, he asked my son about the "wedding." He smiled his frozen smile and had no comment.

Where Have I Been?

I am sure that my faithful audience has been waiting breathless with anticipation for this post. I have no valid excuse for letting a month go by with no musings. I have just been living "La Vida Loco" here in the suburbs.

I have started homeschooling my oldest for kindergarten and also taken over a children's resale that runs twice each year. Our fall sale just ended October 1, and we have been tying up loose ends. Things should be better now - until the next sale in March that is.

So, what should I share to keep your interest and keep you coming back for more. There is really too much to choose from, so I'll have to just leave you with a sample of my life as of late. I took my oldest to a class at the zoo. During this particular class, they learned the role of a zoo veterinarian and even got to bring home a first aid kit to be used in any animal emergency they might encounter.

As soon as he arrives home, my son pulls out the rubber gloves (in case of bleedings, he informs me) and wrestles the dog to the ground while saying, "Stay calm - everything will be fine." The dog is absolutely thrilled that she gets to be the test subject for my son's latest career ambitions. After a moment, Jenna is released with a bandage on her leg. The gloves are taken off and my son uses an antibacterial wipe to wash off his hands since he has just handled an "animal." The same animal that sometimes sleeps at the foot of his bed.

I now find various stuffed animals around the house with bandaids and the two year old occasionally has on a pair of rubber gloves as well. She is the nurse, I am informed. Of course.