Water Snake

He's mean. He's green. And oh, so refreshing.

She's Five!

Chloe turned five years old! Wahoo! And she's going to Kindergarten in a month. I'm not going to cry... I'm not going to cry...

She had a busy day: Managed a train station, created replica American Indian shields, tended to her princessly duties in her castle tower, counseled President Obama in the white house, played drums in Africa, sailed on the Mayflower, created a dinosaur jungle (on the Mayflower), went fishing in Japan, created a tasty sushi plate, and saved many puppies from burning buildings. Oh, and opened presents and had birthday cupcakes and ice cream. Her favorite present? Her new bike? Nope, her Ariel barbie. And the box it came in.

We love our sweet Chloe! Happy Birthday!

Never Gets Old

This is just the kind of humor we like at our house.

Reality Check

Never Try to Reason with a Tired 3-year-old.

Yesterday I was racing to get all three kids ready and into the car to go meet Mike, and Ellie was just not moving. I had strapped Charlie in his car seat and carried him upstairs. Chloe even had her shoes on (she never has her shoes on) and was meandering slowly in the right direction. And Ellie was still not moving. I put some shorts (back) on her and grabbed her sandals, figuring I could put them on later, and tried again to guide her toward the van. At this point she began to protest:

"No! Tiny Bear needs a drink!"

I told her, "That's fine, give Tiny Bear a drink, and let's go."

"No! Tiny Bear has to have a drink!"

Yes, Tiny Bear is a tiny teddy bear, her favorite toy. I was at a loss and ten minutes late, so I again told her, "Just give him a pretend drink. We've got to go." And I escorted her to the van.

She screamed, really wailed, for the first ten minutes of the drive. At first I just listened, comforting myself with the knowledge that every other mother knows how it is to drive with screaming in her ears.

(Incidentally . . . This, you male chauvinists out there, is where the bad women drivers theory was born. I'd like to see how YOU'd do under the same circumstances. Oh yeah, and the back of my seat was being kicked, too.)

After ten minutes I piped up too, and told her it really needed to stop. I took a deep breath, and in a slightly calmer voice, I tried to help her resolve her concern.

"Ellie, are you still crying because you want to give Tiny Bear a drink?"

"(whimper, whimper) yes (whimper, whimper.)"

"Well, Ellie, he's just pretend so you can give him a pretend drink." And I continued to demonstrate how to give a pretend animal a pretend drink. (Hey, I still had one hand on the wheel.)

"Noooo!" She continued to cry.

"Well then, Ellie, if you can wait a little while we'll be at a house where you can get him a real drink."

The crying stopped. After a short thoughtful pause, Ellie explained, condescendingly, "Mom-my . . . Tiny Bear can't have a real drink."

"Oh," I said. "You're right."

And that's where we left it.

One minute later she was asleep.

The Magoon

We love ourselves some Magoon. (Especially at $5 each! Thanks Sister-in-law's Uncle!)

My Pretty

As I gathered up the last of five (six?) loads of laundry for today, and was heading back toward the laundry room, I heard Chloe yell,

"Ellie! Watch out for mom! She's an evil witch!"

I hollered, "No, I'm not!" over my shoulder, as I continued to lug their dirty clothes away.

"Pre-TEND-ing!" Chloe loudly explained.



Typecasting, do you think? What was that about a thankless job?

Fireworks

It turned out to be a really good day. Though we slept in and only made it to the parade in time to see the remnants of floats driving away - we did get to enjoy a leisurely morning. We got some nice sun, and some nice easy-going rain showers. We got to have lunch with one of our favorite families. They invite us to crash their party year after year. We have perfected our sad, hungry puppy-dog faces. Later we saw another friend win his volleyball tournament. Charlie was patient as always, and napped most of the day. The evening was relaxing watching bits and pieces of Star Wars and X-Men movies, as we waited for the fireworks to start.

Now, I will admit that I have, in years past, been a bit of a Scrooge when it comes to fireworks. But I followed my cute husband and kids, blankets in hand out onto the lawn on the hill to watch the show coming from the stadium below. Despite my reluctance, I was quickly reminded that one of the best things in life is seeing my children happy and excited. And so I jumped into the pile of kids, husband and blankets, even though it wasn't very cold, and watched the fireworks. We cheered for the finale, only to have it start over again. They got us twice.

Chloe kept a careful vigil over her 9-month-old cousin, throwing a fit and pinning his shirt to the lawn every time he tried to crawl away.

As the bombs burst in air, my mother-in-law called out, "Happy Birthday, America!" To which Ellie, in her trademark earnest enthusiasm, responded, "AMERICA, we got you a surprise! IT'S FIREWORKS!!"

We shouted out names for each blast, creative and original names like "Fizzy," "Sparkle" and "Blast-y." Then after a particularly large and bright firework, Ellie declared, "Beautiful of God!"

The real finale was pretty spectacular. I found myself pointing and screaming along with the kids, "Oooh! Did you see that one!?" And I decided I didn't mind the fireworks so much this year. I kinda liked them.

After the lights were gone and the sounds of the explosions had stopped bouncing off the mountains around us, I rolled up in the blanket and wished to camp out there for the night. I felt fourteen again. I would have stayed there, but realized the shrieking beyond my smiled-closed eyes belonged to two little girls playing tug-of-war with one of the blankets, hours after their bed-time, and I was the 33-year-old responsible to restore them to their beds.

The night-time ritual was quickened since the kids were pretty wiped out from the day of celebration, slushies and sugar. And I went to sleep with visions of sparklers dancing in my head. I think it was my favorite fireworks show ever. And I think next year's will be, too. Happy Birthday, America!

Healthy Eats

We're trying to eat more fruits and vegetables, whole grains, yada yada. Chloe has picked up on our efforts and made her very own batch of split pea soup:


Only four simple ingredients: split peas, whole raw almonds, water and chocolate syrup. Mmmmm. Healthy.

Meanwhile . . .

We invited you! Oh, yes we did. And we've invited you before. Well, we decided to go to the Ranch anyway, all by ourselves. And it was fabulous.

So many "welcome to the Ranch" moments: The smell of the sage as we first opened the van door; the smell of the house as soon as we stepped inside (GOOD smells. Good nostalgic smells); sitting on the porch swing during a rainstorm; jumping on the tramp at Sunset, pointing out all the new stars as they arrived; muddy shoes; the green fields below red cliffs . . . My friends, it was glorious! There is no place like it.

Totally worth the 14 hour round trip drive. I'm serious. And that's really saying something because we really dislike driving. I was a little depressed the day after we got back and finally realized it was because I wasn't at the Ranch anymore. Just five weeks until we get to go back. I can't wait.