True Story

Yesterday Henry announced that he was going to unload the dishwasher.

Ben: "No, you need supervision."

Henry: "I have super vision!"

He turns around, revealing the 3-D glasses he's wearing.

Guess who emptied the dishwasher? That's right. Me.

Not sure where the boys went.

Catching up

Wow, okay, it's almost been a month since my last post. Sorry about that. I was lazy after Thanksgiving, then I was busy, then I was lazy again, then I forgot, and now here I am. There were some very funny things Henry said that made me say right then to Ben, there's some blog fodder right there, but I didn't write it down and guess what? I completely forgot what it was that he said.

Well, Thanksgiving was fun. We had a Thanksgiving lunch with Ben's Dad and step-mom and some of her family. Everything was good, Henry actually ate some ham, and I was too full to finish dessert, even though I really, really wanted to. Henry got to shoot Grandpa's pellet gun and thought that was pretty neat. Then we went over to my parents' to spend the night. The next day I helped Dad finish laying down hardwood flooring in his bedroom closet. It was fun using the nail gun; it made a nice satisfying BAM! when I smacked it with the mallet. Then some friends came over to shoot their pumpkins-- they saved them especially for this purpose. I'm so proud. Since I didn't have a pumpkin-- mine rotted and went moldy, remember-- I made due with soda cans and for Ben I made a target. Since he's a pro at those first-person perspective shooting games, I drew him a nice zombie head. Henry also drew a few targets. In case anyone believes I let my five year old shoot a rifle, no, Henry only watched for a few minutes and then went back to the house with Papaw. After we dispatched the pumpkins, soda cans, and zombie, we cleaned the guns. Since it's been probably fifteen years since I'd last done it, I thought it was pretty cool that I still remembered enough to figure out how to break down the SKS. More or less. When I was attempting to reassemble it, some pieces I'd forgotten about, a little rod thingy and a spring, went flying out across the table. Then I remembered when reinserting the cleaning kit in the stock to use a pen to push it in so my finger didn't get pinched. Then we cleaned up just in time as Mom got home from work, so she didn't find any filthy, oily gun parts all over her kitchen table. After our friends gave us a quick astronomy lesson, we all went home.

Friday it snowed. For about ten minutes. The school sent the kids home an hour early just in case, but nothing stuck. As soon as Henry got off the bus he ran inside and asked me if I'd seen the snow. Then he said you have to be very quiet in order for it to snow. I knew exactly where he got that from. I can just picture twenty something kindergarteners stampeding to the windows to watch the snow, and hear the words his teacher said to get them all to shut up. I really like his teacher.

Now that Christmas is near, Henry's in true form, nagging the heck out of me. Last year it was "Buy me Legos!" every five minutes. This year I managed to get some presents wrapped and under the tree and Henry, little punk, can read his own name, and has discovered one of his presents. Since he got to open the present our friend Edward got him, he thinks he shouldn't have to wait until Christmas to open the rest.

Every few minutes Henry says, "Let me open my present!"

Or, "Don't let me wait until Christmas!"

I correct him and tell him it's "don't make me wait until Christmas."

He doesn't care.

Sunday we had our Christmas program at Church. Our choir has sadly dwindled in numbers and participation over the last year, to the point where it was just Ben and me and no pianist, we basically abandoned the whole thing, but since we were asked to sing for the program, We started having practices again, sans pianist. Having had three years of piano back in the day, I can hunt and peck with one or two fingers, but only one line at a time and I mess up a lot. So Ben and I were able to figure out our parts and sing a capella. It wasn't as dulcet a sound as I'd like, but we try and that's what counts. This Sunday about ten minutes before I had to leave, some more people showed up so that was nice. Christmas miracle: the Sunday School class spent the whole time practicing the song. Yay! So we had a bunch of people and we sounded pretty good. Then I had to direct the kids to sing Away in a Manger. There were just a handful of them, mostly three, four and five year olds, and two older kids. The little ones were pretty excited to get up there, especially Henry, and nicely arranged themselves in a little group. I decided to stand up there beside them because I knew if any of them actually sang it would be a miracle. Yeah, it was pretty much a solo-- me, smiling, making pointed eye contact at the older kids who sheepishly mouthed the words. I think I got a few "asleep"s out of them. Oh, well. They got up there and looked cute, that's what counts.

Now I've got the next two weeks of family visits and cleaning up after two vacationing males. Oh, boy.

Some Random Photos of Henry and Driveway Art

Henry as the Polar Express conductor:


I drew a robot for Henry in the driveway, the robot from a story a friend and I wrote way back in high school:


Ben saw the robot and thought he'd make a better one, but it's not original and therefore, inferior:


Henry and his fabulous cat:


We're a regular family of artists, huh?

A Busy Week, or I'm an Evil Sadistic Baby-mouth Burning Psychopath

I'm great at these blog titles, huh? It's true though, I did have a busy week; every day on the calendar was filled with some appointment or another. Also, I burned an innocent baby's mouth on Saturday. It wasn't my fault, really, but Ben wants me to feel guilty about it for some reason. I did feel bad, though. Just not guilty. I'll get to that in a minute because while that makes for a good story, I have to get through the boring stuff first, because while one purpose for this blog is amusing family and friends, it's also the only way that I actually journal my life. Pretty lame but it's all I'm willing to do at this point.

Anyway, Monday I scrubbed the heck out of my house and did a butt-load of laundry. Tuesday I volunteered at Henry's school, which involved wrapping Christmas gifts for the teachers, and then I helped out at the book fair. I specifically did this so I could help Henry find a couple of books, because let's face it, if left to his own devices he'd probably pick out something lame. So with Henry and two of his classmates in tow (it just happened to be the two kids we know from church) I directed the kids towards the cool book racks. The two other kids picked out stuff right away, in fact they both picked five books they wanted. I showed Henry the rack with Captain Underpants. He snatched one right up. The one with Professor Poopypants. He already has one at home given to us by Grandma Tilley, so he was stoked to see there were more of them. He picked two Captain Underpants books and he was done. Yeah, I know, instead of showing him some nice books I let him pick out the gross-out humor ones. You know what? I think it's awesome.

Wednesday I drove to the school to pick Henry up. I think it would've been quicker to walk there, but I knew Henry would be beat and besides that, we had friends coming over after school and I wanted to get him home as early as possible so he'd have more time with his friends. Having called the day previous, I was fairly certain I was following proper procedure.

Me: Hey, I'm picking up my kid from school tomorrow. I need to send a note to his teacher, right?

Office Person: That's right.

Me: Anything else?

Office Person: That's it.

So that's what I did. I got to school twenty minutes early and waited in the long line of cars waiting to pick up kids. It looked like it was going to take forever, but the wait wasn't so bad. After some dude came by the car and asked for my car pool number (?) and told me I was doing it wrong (I totally felt like Mr. Mom) I gave him Henry's name and he went to make sure Henry was sent to the right place. Then the walking kids came out and went ballistic as they ran their merry way home, and then the carpool kids came out. I was happy with the efficiency with which the carpool lane was moving along. It wasn't long before Henry was hopping into the car. The principal, however, felt the need to tell me I was doing it wrong. Not my fault, ask your brilliant office person about that helpful info, chick. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I'll get right on that TPS cover sheet, too. When we got home Henry stuck a Captain Underpants book in my hands, we cracked the book and got two lines out and the doorbell rang. Then Henry and his pals had a fun time while I chatted with my friend. After they went home, Ben, Henry and I went out to buy Henry's game. He has been good at church and earned the requisite number of star stickers, so we stopped by the used game store, Henry picked out a Sonic game, then we went over to the Wal-mart so he could get a happy meal. Went home and read some Captain Underpants and helped Henry do his homework.

Thursday morning I had Primary planning meeting at the church (I'm no longer doing Cub Scouts, but working with Primary, which is Sunday school for the 3 to 11 year old kids). I can't remember what all I did that day. I think I crashed and took a nap that afternoon.

Friday was book club. I sent Henry off to school and baked some bread. We read Hunger Games, so I looked all through the attic for this cornucopia I knew I hucked in there a couple years ago, but alas, if it's in there, it's buried pretty good. Not finding that, I instead etched mockingjays on the top of the bread. If you don't know what I'm talking about, read the book. One of the book clubbers dropped off her kids so she could make a doctor's appointment and I finished cleaning up while her angelic kids played quietly in Henry's room. Book club was fun, we ate bread; even though the mockingjays didn't show up too well, it still tasted pretty good. After Henry got home, we went out to pick out a birthday present for his friend and then with Ben we went out for some Baba Ganouj and then went to the church to attend a dance. Hispanic dances are fun, but slow to start because everybody arrives late. Henry was the first one on the dance floor, doing a full body interpretive dance to some Merengue. Ben and I are not dancers, so we sat out the dances that required rhythm and skill, and put in a few appearances for some slow dances so we wouldn't look like jerks. It was fun but we left early (nine) so Henry could get some sleep.

Saturday morning we dropped one of the cars off for an oil change. Then I went with Henry to his friend's birthday party. Ben was going to come and then decided he was going to slough it, but then changed his mind, and then hurt his back picking Henry up, so ended up staying at home. The party was fun. We got there early because I misread the invitation, but that was cool. There were a ton of boys and one girl. It was a Star Wars theme, and the kids had to be Jedis-in-training. Picture slightly-controlled chaos, five- to seven-year-olds training by exercising and playing "Anakin" Says, then a crazy free-for-all with giant balloon lightsabers. Tons of fun. Henry was sad to leave as always because Caleb is his "bestest friend in the world" and Hannah's pretty cool, too. After that we went home, picked up Ben and got the car back from the oil change place. After that I went to the store to pick up some stuff for this dinner thing we were going to. Then when I got home I discovered my cat has worms. That made my day. So I made some inquiries and hurried over to Petsmart to get some worm medicine. Then I came back and fixed some stuff for the dinner, hid the cat's food, and we went to the dinner.

The dinner was for Families Supporting Adoption, and it was at this dinner that I got blamed for burning a baby's mouth. It was because of the salsa I made. I made it like we usually make it, but I guess the arbol peppers were slightly more potent this time. Anyway, there was this little kid who loves salsa, who happened to sample the salsa before his mom did. Yeah, so the kid started bawling and I passed them a cup of juice while his mom was stuffing bread in his mouth. Poor little guy, even Henry said it was too spicy (he likes salsa, too-- a miracle, I know). But everyone else said it was good. Anyway, we had a good time and I unexpectedly got to see an old friend I haven't seen in over a decade. That was really cool.

Then when we got home I mixed some worm poison in the cat's special wet food and she went to town. Die, worms, die!!! (I'm trying not to puke as I write.)

And yes, we're looking into adoption. But that's another story.

Another Day

Henry's in the next room, in bed, supposed to be falling asleep. He's evidently singing himself a lullaby:

"Get your booty on the floor..."

Yesterday we had the missionaries over for dinner. It was a lot of fun, they ate my food and liked it (either that or they were really, really hungry) and gave us a nice gospel message. Then Ben entertained them by playing some Metallica and stuff on his guitar. I got a phone call just as they were leaving, but I noticed they both had their cameras out and were taking pictures of the slightly deteriorating pumpkin on the front porch. I went to see why. One of those huge North American Cockroaches (or Palmetto bug) was crawling right into Jack O'Lantern's moldy nose. Blecch. Yuck.

This is Jack as of ten minutes ago. I was hoping he'd hang on long enough to shoot this weekend, but I think it's dumpster time.


Today I did some more volunteer work at Henry's school. Mostly it was stuff for the upcoming book fair, and cutting out about a hundred circles out of card stock. Too bad the die cutter there didn't have a big enough circle. My thumb is still sore on that first knuckle from the scissors. Oh, well. I got to deliver some stuff to Henry's class. On the way down the hall a teacher exclaimed, "I thought you were one of the students."

That means I'm either way too short or that I look pretty dang good for my age (until you get too close, apparently). I think I'll go with the youthful angle.

Henry gave me a big hug and on the way back down the hall a little girl came by and said, "Hey, Henry's mom."

Man, those little kids, you just can't fool them.

Uncle Guzzle

A little while back Ben's Mee-maw retired from driving and instead of selling their old car, Pee-paw gave it to us. Some people name their cars, so if I could get anthropomorphic vibes off this car, I'd have to name it Uncle Guzzle. It's an older car, born about the time I graduated high school, a greenish-blue or bluish-green Buick Regal, is equipped with a flaky tape deck for my listening pleasure, the trunk's full of dead grass clippings from Pee-paw's million-and-one trips to the golf course, and yes, it sucks gas like there's no tomorrow. The car's only got forty three thousand miles on it for being so old, hence he's an uncle and not a grandpa. He drives okay except the shocks are a little bouncy, and the day before Pee-paw gave him to us, he accidentally clipped a concrete pole at a drive through window and knocked off the driver's side mirror, so that's taped on for now, and the front driver's side wheel rim is bent a little. And two days ago I found out the fuel gauge is off, the hard way.

Of course, the hard way. It's always got to be the hard way.

About two minutes from my house, just as I was reaching the midpoint of a four lane bridge over a highway, even though the fuel gauge said I was okay, Uncle secretly sucked his last drop of fuel and conked off, leaving me stranded. Luckily for me some construction guys were doing some surveying on the bridge and helped me get the car into the median. Since the fuel gauge was off, I had no idea what the problem was, so I got a lift home from my heroes in reflective orange vests and prepared to call a tow truck. Then on a whim I grabbed the gas can from the basement and walked back to see if Uncle was just thirsty.

It never ceases to amaze me how many people will not move over when they see someone stranded in the median of the road trying to pour gas into their car. Thanks, guys, for respecting my life enough to give twelve whole inches between me and two tons of steel flying by at forty-five miles an hour.

So I didn't die, and Uncle Guzzle had enough to get me to the gas station a quarter mile up the road.

Yes, I do look ridiculous driving a big green boat. But it was a free car. And free is free. I can't complain about free. But I would like to fix it up a little, put in a new stereo, some cool hydraulics, maybe put on a few flame decals. Ben probably won't let me. I mean, we're still driving it with the side mirror taped on.

Alive and Well

Tuesday Henry went back to school. I was happy and so was he. It's nice to be healthy again and back into a routine. Today Henry had the day off since it was another teacher work day, so we slept in and were lazy. Then we went out and bought a rake (the old one got destroyed a while back when Ben was trying to dislodge that dead bird stuck in a tree). After lunch Henry insisted that I transform the pumpkin that's been sitting on our porch into a Jack O'Lantern. So I did that. Henry didn't like the smell of the pumpkin guts. I'm not big on the smell, either, but that's the price you pay when you want a Jack O'Lantern on your porch instead of a boring old pumpkin.

Henry liked the finished product. Me, too.


Then I raked up some leaves and Henry jumped in them. The raking reminded me how recently I'd been sick. Now I'm tired and ready for a nap. But I guess I'll make that pumpkin cheesecake instead.

Round Two

Well, we're at war with the plague at our house. This morning I was feeling pretty good, what after the week I've had. Yeah, that first day Henry got sick was rough. It's better now that he's old enough to run to the toilet when he's got to puke, unlike when he was a baby and somebody had to hold him with a bucket positioned under his head. But still, he doesn't quite make it every time. So all day after he got home from school I was cleaning up puke and the puked on kid. My hands were pruney from all the washing and hand sanitizer; I was really, really on top of things. And then as I was drying Henry off after a trip to the bath tub I didn't turn my head fast enough and he breathed right in my face. Then and there I knew I was doomed. I decided to sleep upstairs to keep watch over Henry, also to avoid the unsavory germs Ben was breathing out. I felt just a little sick as I went to bed that night, but I said, "Screw you, Germs!" and went to sleep. I felt pretty good the next morning and helped Henry recuperate. Then about three a.m. the puke virus woke me up and I ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor in between barfing sessions. The following two days after that were spent eating next to nothing and sleeping as much a possible.

So yeah, today started out okay. I got up and hurried to the shower and arrived a half hour late to a church training meeting. I was glad that they had refreshments (or in my case, breakfast) afterward. Then I went to the library and picked up some books, then came home and found Henry sprawled in his chair looking pathetic. 102 temperature. Dang it! I though we kicked this crap already! So I washed my hands, went back out and bought a bunch of stuff from the store. Hopefully he'll be okay to go back to school on Monday. Hopefully I won't be getting a fever. Hopefully Ben won't either.

And if the cat gets sick I'm going to lose my mind.

School... a Blessing and a Plague

I love that Henry's in school and he loves it, too. He's learning and having fun, and I have all morning to sit in silence or read a book, clean the house, or waste time on the internet. School is marvelous, a wonderful blessing. School is also a breeding ground for the little miseries in my life. It is the place where Henry is exposed to numerous strains of diseases, be it rhino-viruses or puking bugs, or flu. Today is the third time this month that Henry's gotten sick. Luckily I was at home, having already volunteered and visited the library, when I got a phone call from school informing me that Henry puked and needed someone to come get him. His puked-on clothes are drying in the dryer and his puked-on comforter is in the washer; as soon as it's in the dryer his puked-on bed sheets are next.

Henry's asleep right now. Whatever he's got it's nasty. Anything that gets Henry to sleep during daylight hours usually is. So right now I'm praying that it's just a stomach bug and not the flu. I really don't want to deal with the flu right now. Mostly because I know I will end up with it, then Ben.

Well, time for some more hand sanitizer. I best run along and Lysol the whole house.

Another Saturday Well Spent

Today Henry got his finger bitten by a bird, but that was the only bad thing that happened. This morning Ben, Henry, and I got up early and went and cleaned the church. While I was busy wiping little fingerprints off all the glass windows and doors, Ben emptied trash cans and wiped down chalkboards, and Henry ran around with one of those push sweeper things and cleaned the carpet. Usually there are other people there to help, but this time it was just us three. I'm really glad we had the opportunity to work together as a family and do some service. Goodness knows we do very little teamwork cleaning at home, so any chance we get to do extracurricular stuff can't be doing us any harm.

After that we went to see one of Ben friends. We didn't have to be there until the afternoon, so since Mom and Dad's was on the way, we stopped by for a surprise visit. They weren't home, so we ended up hanging out with Uncle Dave and watched a football game while Henry played. Then we finished off some enchiladas that were in the fridge. Hope you weren't planning on eating them, Mom and Dad. If so, please accept the dishes I washed as payment for eating your food without your explicit permission. Also, Henry ate three chicken nuggets and an apple.

Then we went to Asheboro to visit Ben's friend. While Ben and I hung out with him and a bunch of other people, Henry ran off to play with a little girl that was there. They had a parakeet in a cage in the hallway around the corner from us that attracted his attention. Although he was informed many times by various people, including the little girl, that the bird was not friendly and would bite, apparently the temptation was too much for him and he stuck his finger in the cage and the bird bit him. Somebody saw him holding his finger as he quietly departed from the cage. It seemed like he wasn't going to say anything but when he saw that we knew what happened, he came over for a hug. Poor kid's finger really hurt; there was a little puncture on his fingertip so we washed it up and discussed why we shouldn't poke our fingers into birdcages. Henry still wanted to be friends with the bird, though, and asked what would happen if he fed it a chip. I guess it's a weird human thing to want to be friends with animals, even if they're dangerous, as if just because we like them the animal will naturally like us in return. I think Henry learned a valuable lesson today. On the way out I facetiously asked Henry if he wanted to give the bird a goodbye kiss. Henry seriously answered no, because the bird would bite his lip. Smart kid. I'm sad his finger and his feelings got hurt, but hopefully this will prevent him from ending up like some other well-intentioned goobs that got eaten by grisly bears and mauled by tigers and stuff.

Clarification

For those under the impression that I can still squeeze my blubbery post-baby butt in high school jeans, thanks for the compliment. Unfortunately, none of my high school jeans survive so I can't find out for certain, but I really think it's a safe bet to assume otherwise. My high school t-shirts, on the other hand, were purchased solely for what was printed on them, not at all for fit, and hence 99% of those were huge on me anyway, and yes, I still have some and they serve as nightgowns now.

Aside from the above referenced t-shirt nightgowns and a few of those itchy burlap shirt things stuffed in a box somewhere (because you have to save a few high school clothes for your kids to see one day and go, "Damn, Mom, that's hideous; I can't believe you used to wear that!") These are the only high school items I have left and have actually worn recently:



On another note, Henry's sick today. His nose is a faucet and he's been coughing incessantly. I decided to keep him home from school today. In case you need photographic evidence that Henry's still cute when he's sick:

Another One of Them There Birthdays

Yep, I'm one year older and wiser, too. I guess in spite of a few unpleasant nuggets, the past year has been pretty good. Mostly because I have an awesome family, awesome friends and neighbors. I guess it's in my nature to be a little cynical, mostly because the bad things in life are so dang obvious, and I can always find something to complain about even though I know perfectly well no matter how bad things get they could be worse. In spite of all that, I can honestly say from personal experience I know that things tend to work themselves out for the best and that the best blessings usually come right when you need them most. I went to the General Relief Society Broadcast two weeks ago. It was a last minute decision for me again because I forgot about it, but I got up and went anyway. Right away I saw someone I knew and sat with her, ate a nice dinner and made conversation with someone I didn't know. I'm still shy and not fond of big crowds of strangers, but I dealt and it was all good. Last weekend there was a Temple Square Mission reunion in Utah that I didn't get to attend, but some cool folks posted photos and stuff on facebook, so I got a little taste, I guess. Thanks to a good friend I got a quote from Sister Snow (I love that lady): "In the end it will all be OK. If it is not OK than it isn't the end." I want that to be the title of my life's story. I want to be optimistic as much as possible because I truly believe there's a reason to be.

Maggie came with Wesley on Monday and we went birthday shopping. I like shopping with Maggie because I seriously hate shopping for myself to the point that I almost never do it unless she's there. Plus she has a no-nonsense way of telling me that my clothes are hideous and to freaking change them already. Aside from being a picky tomboy, one of my major faults is hanging onto old things. Like a pair of Chuck Taylor's from high school. I wore them a few weeks ago, I swear. And I still have a pair of church shoes from twelve years ago that are still in pretty good shape, but are so out of style and really I should just chuck them and buy new shoes, but I hate shoe shopping so much I just keep putting it off year after year. I had an eye examination today and my prescription changed (my eyesight actually got better, believe it or not) and instead of picking out a new pair of glasses I opted to keep my three year old frames and swap out lenses. I still wear the same old t-shirts and jeans and have absolutely nothing I could wear if I had to attend a formal dinner somewhere. Sure, I could go out and buy a whole new wardrobe, but ten years from now I'd just be back in the same boat. This is why I need to be rich and have someone to shop for me so I can look good while I continue to be lazy and indifferent to fashion.

Oh, well. It'll all be okay in the end.

How'd They Manage in the Dark Ages?

Tuesday after I got Henry on the bus I went down and volunteered at the school doing busy work for the teachers. There wasn't a whole lot to do since there were a ton of moms there, so I busied myself with cutting out laminated stuff. Then I paired up with a much taller mom and dismantled an art display on a wall of the office. When we were done pulling stuff off the wall, we packed it all up and took it down to the art room, where Henry's class just happened to be at the moment. The other mom went and said hey to her kid while I looked around for Henry. He wasn't in the room, so I assumed, with only the slightest doubt, he was probably in the bathroom. The other mom had to make a stop at the kids' classroom, so I tagged along. Then Henry's teacher sees me and her face is genuinely happy, so right away I'm suspicious. Turns out Henry wasn't feeling well and had a slight fever and the office had been trying to reach me. This all happened an hour and a half before while I was in the workroom, and in the office, where my kid was probably waiting in the nurse's room. Anyway, Henry was feeling a little better so they'd sent him down to the art room. Well, since he was coughing and had a runny nose, I went ahead and signed him out for the day, collected his stuff and met him in the art room. The kids were all painting pictures of leaves so I waited until the end of art class for them to finish up. Of course, he was circling me like a puppy while I was leading him out, and by the time Ben got home from work he was back to his old self.

Ben had been concerned because he'd gotten a call from the school and since he couldn't get away from work, had tried calling me, too, as well as everyone else he knew, but no one had answered his call. He'd sent me two emails asking where I was. Which brings me to the title of this here blog thingy. How the heck did people manage in the days before the cell phone and email and stuff? Seriously. My kid had to wait a whole hour and a half before I could be reached. The horror. Imagine if this scenario had played out yesterday when I was out getting the tires replaced. He'd have had to wait two hours, and that's if I'd looked at the answering machine when I got home. All sarcasm aside, I do like the communications amenities we have nowadays, and could probably do with a few more. I can hardly conceive how my mom got through my school years without an answering machine. Or how my dad's mom managed to raise nine kids without a phone. It must have been a quieter, more patient time. I'd have liked living then, aside from the whole outhouse thing, and polio and diphtheria, etc.

Although I must say that while I could easily live without a phone, I'd sure hate it if I didn't have the internets.

Teacher Workday

Last week I went down to the park sans Henry. It was a little weird because my Henry radar was still wanting to function even though he was at school. But I got my adult conversation fix for the week, so that was nice.

This morning I got Henry up and dressed and fed and went down to the bus stop. After a few minutes I noticed the bus was running slightly late and then one of the neighbors stopped by on her way to work and reminded me it was a teacher workday and the kids were out of school.

Whoops. I knew there was something I forgot to mark on the calendar. Oh, well, no biggie. We just went home and played. Since I had a slight headache and Henry wanted to play inside for a while, we skipped going to the park, but by the time we'd had lunch I was ready to head outdoors. So I packed up Henry and a snack and we went down to the state park for a hike. Henry complained at first. He wasn't interested in a long walk in the woods and was disappointed that there wasn't a playground. I gave him a park map and put him in charge of navigating our hike. I enjoyed teaching him the rules of hiking (stay on the trail) and how to use trail markers to stay on the right path. Henry led the way and made a game of a boring (in his opinion) walk. We watched "Goonies" last night and so Henry was in treasure hunting mode, what with the map and all, and decided that we were traveling through levels in the style of a video game. This tells me that Henry is fairly imaginative, and also needs to spend less time with games and more time outside (hence the hike). As we progressed deeper into the woods we encountered booby traps, had to over cross creeks hopping on the backs of alligators, some of which were real and some were fake, the fake ones being brown, the real ones green. We dodged boulders, fire balls, and ninjas. And there were moving walls. And we saw some real creatures: daddy long legs, a tiny lizard, a big shiny-black wood beetle, a dog pile of various insects devouring a dead millipede, some people and quite a few dogs.

Happiness Is...

Opening the silverware drawer and finding right on top a spoon that hasn't yet been mangled by the garbage disposal.

Ok, for all those who might be interested, I got my first phone call from Henry's teacher last week. Apparently the little angel thought it'd be hilarious to cram his mouth full of paper. When the teacher told him to spit it out in the trash, he only spat out a pittance, and got busted because he had one of his patented evil grins on his face. So the teacher's aid gave me a call to let me know Henry needs to work on his listening skills. More like obedience skills... Anyway, I got a chance to talk to Henry on the phone and so he now knows that Mommy doesn't like getting phone calls from the teacher. Not that I was overly surprised to get a phone call, or that I wasn't expecting a phone call eventually. That's one thing I kind of foresaw, and to be honest, it was a relief to get it and I actually laughed (not within hearing of the teacher, of course) because I know Henry so well. He's such a good kid and a good learner, but it's so hard for him to reign himself in when he's not supposed to be silly. So Yesterday we spent just about all night playing Simon Says and Henry started getting pretty good by the end, even if I was sneaky and tricked him a few times.

Maggie Ties the Knot

Maggie and Avdo got married last weekend. It was kind of on short notice, so everybody pitched in to make it a nice event. Either from desperation or extreme confidence in my skills, Maggie entrusted me with the construction of the bouquet and boutonnieres. This happened the day of the wedding, a few hours beforehand, to be precise. Of course she had plenty of confidence in my skills, though she nixed my original flower arrangement, and Mom helped me with the boutonnieres (lucky for Maggie Mom had some floral tape stashed away or, while probably being functional, they'd have been real ugly). Thank goodness Maggie had a cake made, because if I'd been in charge of that... Well, let's just be thankful and try not to imagine the horror that might have been.

Newlyweds:


In-laws:


Cutting the cake:


And just because I like the expression on Henry's face:

For Those Who Asked

Here's a photo of Henry in his nerd uniform. I found those suspenders in a box-- they were mine when I was Henry's age.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Ben just turned thirty four. For his birthday, among other things, he got his stent out and a big potted plant from work. And some more renal colic. And he thinks he might have another kidney stone on deck. Yee-haw. Here's hoping next year he's in better health and better humor.

As you can see, the celebration this year was pretty low key.



Henry's been having a good week at school. I straightened things out with his teacher, so all his stuff has been relabeled "Henry." This morning at the bus stop he and the neighbor kids found a half-dead cicada in the gutter. One of them poked it with her shoe and the cicada briefly, noisily, flapped its wings, sending the kids running and screaming. It's nice to half a good laugh in the morning to wake me up.

Owen Tilley

Friday afternoon I sat on the curb and waited at Henry's bus stop for like thirty minutes for the bus to arrive. The bus finally showed up and I stood up, dusted off my butt and waited for Henry to make his exit. The first kid I saw was a very excited kid I know from Cub Scouts who very eagerly told me Henry was on his way. He told me it was a good thing Henry had a card safety pinned to his shirt with his bus stop information on it or they wouldn't have known where his stop was. That made me smile. It's really nice that Henry has four kids he knows from church riding his bus. Then Henry came to the bus door without his book bag, but one of the kids reminded him he'd forgotten his bag, so he grabbed it from a helpful friend and climbed down off the bus.

The first thing I noticed was that his little name card said Owen Tilley on it.

"Owen Tilley?" I asked Henry.

Henry smiled and matter-of-factly told me that he'd told his teacher that he wanted to be called Owen. So he went all day being called Owen at school. That made me chuckle and reminded me of my sister Beth who in Kindergarten wanted everyone to call her Liz and went all year being called Liz by everyone but her family. Well, anyway, Monday I have to take Henry's school supplies in, so I'll go set the record straight with his teacher; i.e, Henry's a cute little clown.

Today was long and busy. This morning I got up early (for a Saturday) and took Henry with me to the music leadership training meeting at church. Right after that was a primary activity. Henry and I got our picture taken and made a family banner, which I noticed after it was almost done that I'd misspelled Tilley and had to insert a little E between the more stately L and Y. After Henry decorated a journal, he then ran around with his friends. After that he had cookies and milk, actually drank the milk. In fact, he had three glasses of milk, which blew my mind because he doesn't usually like milk unless it's got Ovaltine in it. I think some of it had to do with this guy who told him milk would build up his muscles and encouraged him to drink more to see if his muscles were growing, so dutifully Henry chugged milk while flexing his arm.

After that Maggie came over and we went to Ben's grandparents to pick up some furniture. We moved two beds, two dressers, a desk and a rocking chair. All this had to go to make room for Ben's mom, who is moving in with her parents in a few weeks. Henry inherited a new bed; new for him, as the bed was his grandmother's when she was a kid (just the frame). So moving the furniture, cleaning and rearranging Henry's room, setting up the bed, and getting all the rest of the stuff organized pretty much took the rest of the afternoon. Then we had to run to the store to buy Henry some bed sheets. And now I'm tired and ready for bed. Can't wait to sleep in again, but that's not going to happen until next Saturday. Only one more week and we're back in the late shift for church, and the return of the lazy weekend. Yippy!

Another Eventful Week

I'm really glad it's Friday. Finally. Monday was so long ago I can barely remember it. Henry got to spend the night with some friends because Tuesday morning Ben had to go in for surgery to forcibly remove Junior, the recalcitrant kidney stone. We got there at five something and were finally able to go home at one p.m. Let me tell you something, never in a million years could I be a nurse. I don't cope well when people around me are suffering.

Dude behind the screen in the next bed over: Sorry I screamed.

Nurse: That's alright. You were in a lot of pain.

Ben groans.

Me: I want to go home now.

Poor Ben. He has surpassed me by far in pain experience bragging rights. Sure, I have more scars than he does, but I hope to never ever experience the kind of pain that morphine and two other analgesics won't touch. Not only did he have the whole peeing through a mangled urethra fun, he also had the much worse pain of his body mistaking the stent the doctor installed to help him heal for a huge kidney stone and going nuts trying to squeeze it out. Happily he's feeling slightly better now and is scheduled to have the stent removed on Wednesday. Then he'll hopefully feel a lot better.

On a much happier note, Henry started school today. We waited down at the bus stop together and after five minutes or so Henry became irritated because the bus was taking too long. But pretty soon afterward it came and he hopped aboard without any trepidation. Now I'm not quite sure what to do. I've already mowed the lawn. There's still a little laundry to fold, but I'm not that desperate. It just feels weird because I haven't been repeatedly nagged to look at something, or to play, or to build something out of Legos. And it's quiet. I can't believe I have three more hours of this. I suddenly have the urge to remodel the bathrooms. This can't be good.

I Hate Monopoly

For years now there's been a Star Wars Edition Monopoly set collecting dust on the shelf in the guest room closet. I think my sister bought it at least a decade ago and gave it to me maybe six years ago because she never used it. Guess what? We never used it either. Yesterday Henry noticed it for the first time and asked to play. I had to read the rule book because it's been probably twenty years since I last played Monopoly, and I'm not sure I even knew the rules then. Basically since Henry's only five and doesn't have a firm grasp on money and consequences, I had to do everything for him except roll the dice and advance his little Luke/Darth Vader/Emperor (He kept changing his mind about which one he wanted). We played for about an hour during which time Henry thoroughly trounced my butt. Finally I called an end to the game because I was sick of playing (losing). This morning before book club met at our house we played again for about an hour, and yes, Henry schooled me again. Then he wanted to play again this afternoon. We played for two hours. I landed in jail at least four times. I went straight to the $200 tax square three separate times after passing Go. Henry finally got a spaceport on Lars' Homestead and wouldn't you know it, I landed on that freaking spot twice, completely cleaning me out.

At least Henry had fun. Die, Monopoly, die!

Morning Fun

Today our morning trip to the park was cut short. Henry was having a fun time with some kids on the merry-go-round, having imaginary trips to Mars, etc. Soon all the kids were joking about throwing up, touting their three, four and five-year-old acting skills, making barfing sounds as they spun around and around, which was disgustingly hilarious until one little kid puked for real. That was the cue for the end of the merry-go-rounding, and some of us grownups decided to duck out early, myself included. Unfortunately, Henry was almost out of the park when he lost his breakfast, thoroughly. It was one of those moments when all you can do is watch and wait for it to be over, then share a laugh with the other mom whose kid puked, and hope for the sake of the other parents that their kids don't puke in the car on the way home.

The only thing missing was a fat kid and a pie eating contest.

My Sensitive Boy

So Henry's one of those kids who pretty much wants to run around being funny and having fun all the time. This personality type tends to interfere somewhat with the whole you have to be reverent at church thing, so Henry and I have worked out a rewards system to hopefully find a happy middle ground. When he's good at church he earns a star sticker; three stickers (three "good" sundays) earn him a treat, ten will get him a used video game. Since the advent of the sticker policy, he's only missed out on one star and tomorrow I'm taking him to pick out a treat.

Today Henry was pretty good. I stopped to chat with his teacher to see how he fared. Apparently Henry was really glad to have his teachers back (She and her husband have been on an extended summer vacation). She told me he behaved well, but had a brief emotional breakdown towards the end of class and told her he really loved her a lot. This made me laugh, in an amused, isn't-that-sweet kind of way. So on the way home in the car I asked him why he'd cried in class. He got a little teary and said that he was so glad that his teacher was back and didn't want her to go away again.

Aww, what a sweet kid. I think it's hilarious though, that he didn't even remember her name.

Ten Years

This past weekend Ben and I celebrated our anniversary. We were married ten years ago in the Washington, D.C. temple. No, writing that didn't make me feel old. But realizing that I was sealed there with my parents and sisters almost twenty nine years ago sure does. So Ben and I decided it was time to head back up to D.C. and check things out, seeing how it's been a few years. We made it a family thing, brought Henry along and drove up with my parents. Henry's main ambition was to ride on the metro. He's a huge fan of trains and was thrilled at the idea of a train that goes underground. Thursday we spent the morning driving up there and stopped by the temple visitor center to stretch our legs and show Henry around. It's just as beautiful as I remembered.


After we checked into our hotel we went for a walk and Henry insisted on seeing the metro, so we walked down and let him look around. Satisfied that he'd definitely get to ride it a lot the next day, we went back up and went for a walk and dinner.

The next morning we took the metro to Union Station and Henry loved the heck out of that. After breakfast we toured the mall and most of the museums.


Henry especially liked the armor exhibit at one of the art galleries (can't remember which one it was).


Henry also liked it when we stopped to rest a bit.


He also liked helping his mom burn off some blubber.


We walked from the capitol building to the Lincoln memorial. Instead of turning back around we decided to ride the metro back from the stop at Arlington, so we walked across the bridge to get there. Were were all very tired at this point.

I pointed to the big white house on the hill in the distance and asked Henry if he wanted to walk up and see it.

"No!"


We had a nice long ride back to the hotel and Henry got to hang out with Grandma and Papaw while Ben and I went back to the temple. It was very nice. Ben even got all romantic and stuff and took me to where he slipped my wedding band on my finger those many years before. Then we had a nice romantic dinner at Burger King because everywhere else was closed. Yeah, who am I kidding? This is Ben we're talking about; he's lucky I'm the kind of person who couldn't care less about fancy dining. I've said it before and I'll say it again, we were made for each other.

The next day we parted ways with Mom and Dad so they could visit the Holocaust museum, and Ben and I took Henry to the National Zoo. It's not as big or long a walk as our zoo in Asheboro, but after all the walking we did the day before, we were pretty much tired before we even started. But it was fun. Somehow after complaining about being too tired to walk, Henry miraculously recovered enough energy to run amok in the Think Tank building. Then to his infinite joy we ate at McDonalds and then rode the metro again. The kid loves the metro.


We paid one last visit to the temple before heading home.


Tomorrow I'm driving to the park.

Henry Learns to Swim

I'm happy to report that Henry can now dog paddle across the pool.

So Ben's Been Getting Back into Shape...

...Which started with him resuming him running the greenway, which he abandoned sometime last year, either when it got too hot or cold, I forget which. He's been at it for about a month and lost about a micrometer of his chubba-chubba (as Henry calls it) and now has to scale back a bit. Monday he went to work as usual and called me to report he was having severe abdominal pain and was throwing up. I offered to come pick him up and take him to the doctor, but he decided to wait it out; manliness and pecuniary issues always make him reluctant to see a doctor. He came home feeling fine, so he chalked it up to a virus. Then at four thirty a.m., he was up with the same pain, so I drove him to a walk in clinic as soon as it opened. From information he found perusing the internet Ben figured he had a kidney stone, but after two and a half hours at the doctor's office (Henry's patience was wearing thin after hour number two), the doctor couldn't say for sure and referred him to a general practitioner. So Ben set up an appointment with somebody, but then the next morning he was hurting again, so we went to the emergency room. I got Henry up (it was way too early to call a neighbor to watch him), and got him dressed and supplied with a fluffy blanket so he could go back to sleep in the car if he wanted. Luckily we live right down the road from the local hospital and the emergency room was all but deserted. Henry and I snuggled under the blanket in the waiting room while Ben had a cat scan. The sun was just starting to rise and Henry asked, "Is it almost morning?" It was a little after six, so I said yes. Anything earlier than that is most definitely not morning. A few minutes later we were hanging out with Ben in his little exam room and the doctor confirmed that it was a kidney stone. We were relieved that it wasn't something worse, but still glum. Poor Ben. Now he thinks he can lord it over me for sympathy because kidney stone pain is comparable to childbirth pain. I just reminded him that I wasn't crazy; when I was in labor I took all the pain meds they threw at me. So now he's waiting for Junior to work his way out of his kidney and emerge gloriously from his urethra. Wheeeee!!!!

Since Ben was feeling okay and supplied with pain medication and was working from home, I took Henry with me to Maggie's place so we could do the grandkid photo we'd been planning. Korah, Wolfe, Zejda and Maddox were there along with Wesley and all the kids had fun for a few hours before we fixed lunch and herded them to the portrait place. We chose this particular franchise because the one where I live has always impressed me. The folks at the location in Greensboro, however, failed to make the slightest positive impression, which is saying something since I usually don't care one way or another about how people run their businesses as long as they get the job done. I could complain about how the computers where customers pick out their portraits were occupied by chicks playing games and checking their email while we waited for the photographer, but since I'd probably have done the same thing (albeit I'd have gotten off the minute a customer walked in) I can't complain too much. We explained what we wanted, a group shot of the kids, but the photographer insisted that she had to take individual shots of the kids. I know it's because they want us to see a nice individual shot and be tempted to buy it, but still, as I explained, we didn't have time to waste for something we didn't want. I thought about asking her about the huge family reunion photo on the wall, "You mean to tell me that you made forty people sit through individual shots just so you could give them what they asked for in the first place?" The photoshoot or whatever you call it, didn't go well. All I can say is that the chick deserved it. Maybe if she'd gotten one of her coworkers to assist her Wesley might smiled in more than one shot. She probably took fifty shots and only ten of them were of what we wanted, and of those ten only one was acceptable, but not with the background we wanted. We made her skip over all the individual shots, only taking time to laugh at the ones where the kids looked silly (I might've bought the one with Wolfe winking like a complete goofball if I weren't so annoyed at the chick). So after that I bought a box of ice cream for the kids and we visited a pet store to kill time, then we stopped by to visit my mom at work before Henry and I drove home. Good thing we made that stopover, because it forced me to take a back way home, thereby avoiding I-40 and the huge wreck in Durham I would've either been in or been delayed by. All in all, a crazy day.

Last night Ben heard something rooting through the trashcan. I'd heard it before, and have picked up trash from some creature dumpster diving for spoiled meat, so I was interested to see the culprit. I turned on the porch light and went back to the window.

I told Ben there was something in the trashcan.

"How do you know?"

"The lid's up."

Then I told him, "It's a raccoon."

"How do you know?"

"He's looking right at me."

The raccoon was staring insolently at me from his perch on the lip of the trashcan, and I ran off to get the camera. Of course, by the time I got back he'd already hopped down and moseyed on to raid the neighbors' garbage. I guess I'll have to get a bungee to secure the lid.

Time for an Update

Because updates are important, even if not much has been going on.

A couple of weeks ago I spotted a white grandma hair on my shirt and since it was a bit long I deduced it hadn't been picked up at Mee-Maw's house (Ben's grandma sports the traditional, professionally coiffed old lady fro), and since it was the same length and straightness of my own hair I knew without having to perform a DNA analysis that it had indeed come from my own head. It was with irritated resignation that I accepted the fact that I'd had a gray hair long enough to die of old age and fall off my head. Then like the next day I found another one. So I'm kind of amused at myself for being a girl, i.e., having a tiny, chagrined desire to stop the hands of time and remain young forever. Believe me, it's not all about the gray hairs-- as my mom and sisters can attest, a bottle of hair dye'll take care of that real quick, but about everything else, my body aging, weakening, falling apart, etc. But as I've never done anything "unnatural" to my hair, aside from that bowl cut back in the early nineties, I've decided to see how long it takes me to go completely white. When I'm really old I want to look like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies, which means I'd better start exercising more and working on my shotgun skills.

Halfway Through July Already?

It's amazing how fast time flies by when you're busy being lazy. Actually, I've been slightly more on top of housework lately. It's this weird phase I'm going through, getting things straightened and organized, cleaned, laundry done (for the most part). It's very strange to be sitting at night on the computer or reading a book and stopping suddenly in the midst of sloth and wondering briefly at the strange absence of something, then realizing that there's no procrastinator's guilt because I already cleaned up. I'm pretty dang sure this won't last. But so far so good. I mean, if I could somehow keep this up and make it a habit... Yeah, okay, let's not kid ourselves. But still, it'd be kind of cool.

So far the summer's gone by pretty well. Henry and I have been doing a fair amount of swimming, mostly at Ben's grandparents' place, avoiding the sun, as usual. I seriously hate the sun. We went to the lake a couple weeks ago and when I got tired of swimming I sat in a chair with my feet in the water, a towel draped over my head and shoulders and one over my lap. Yes, I looked like a psycho, but I'm too cheap to buy a beach umbrella when a towel works just as well. And yes, I wore sunblock.

Independence Day was fun. That afternoon we went for a long walk to the dragon park and played, then drove over to the Wal-mart parking lot to watch fireworks. We've never done that before, usually we go to Raleigh at the state fairgrounds. We got there a few minutes early and by nine the lot was full. The fireworks there were better than the ones we'd seen in the past, but halfway through Henry insisted that he had to go to the bathroom, so Ben walked him over to the port-a-john, except he ended up using the bushes instead. Hurray for America! (That's what Henry kept saying, anyway.)

Henry's in his room right now playing with his toys. It sees that his catchphrase for the day is, "Victory is mine!"

I'm not sure that he even knows what that means, and it totally cracks me up.

The Woes of Power Outage

Yesterday while I was enjoying a Sunday afternoon nap, the power went out. I might have slept through the whole episode but for the fact that a neighbor called to see if we still had electricity at our place. Henry and I chatted about why he couldn't open the fridge door while the power was out, why he couldn't leave the front door open, etc., and we went down a list of all the things in the house that don't work without electricity. Henry was happy to know that his legos still work without power, as did his walkie-talkies, but then thought for a millisecond.

"My games use power!"

He got all teary and sad and I quickly reminded him that the power was only going to be out for a little while, not forever. Then he was okay again. After that Ben took Henry for a ride around the neighborhood and I went back to sleep. Sunday afternoon naps are essential to my sanity, after all.

Of course, the power was back on by the time they got back, and Henry parked himself in front of the TV for a cathartic viewing of Loony Tunes.

Henry is Such a Boy

Yeah, so Henry is growing up. He hasn't quite caught onto the notion that girls are icky, but he is starting to believe that boys are far superior. A while back he constructed a fort from the couch, desk and lazyboy configuration in the living room. He wanted me to make a sign that said "no girls allowed," but knowing that he would use this sign for evil I told him to make his own sign, which he promptly did. He very happily showed me his sign, written on a giant piece of card board covered in magic marker scribbles. I did the mom thing where you say, "oh, I see," when pretending to make sense of such scribbles, when he pointed out his sign, a tiny blob inside one of those crossed-out circle things. I took a picture, check it out:



Can you see it? I almost didn't.

Then my little boy supremest decided that his room needed scary pictures on the door to keep the girls at bay. So he enlisted my help in drawing ghosts and bats and such. He wanted a skeleton, but I made him draw it himself. I had to tell him how to draw everything, but he paid attention and followed directions pretty well. And the results:



And as for my most recent achievement, I did a load of whites yesterday and forgot to put them in the dryer. Ta-da!

Recent Events

Lots of stuff's been going on this month and as a consequence of busy-ness combined with laziness, I have sadly neglected the whole blogging thing. Like anyone cares, I know. But for those few who do, be prepared for excitement galore.

A little while back, an old friend just happened to have a convention to attend in Raleigh. Some may remember Cherie from such places as Family Search... It was nice getting to see her again, and spending the day with her and her husband, Dennis. We went on an educational tour of Yates Mill, this old historical place on the outskirts of Raleigh, as suggested by Cherie. One would think that having lived in this area for almost ten years that I'd have some clue as to what kinds of things there are to do and see. Oh, well. I am boring. And lazy. So I think Cherie knows more about places of interest in Raleigh than I do, probably the history, too. Although I know a little more now, thanks to this loquacious old lady at a historical society booth. We got to listen to a bluegrass band play "Salty Dog." Ben was surprised that I knew of that song and could actually sing some of the lyrics, but anyone who knows my dad and his penchant for the "Andy Griffith Show" wouldn't be. Henry played some games and came in second place in a sack race (there was one other kid in the race) and won a ribbon. Since there were a million ribbons and only a few kids, Henry asked for and received a blue and a green one, too.

Ben and Henry at Yates Mill:



Monday was the Spanish Branch's annual Memorial Day picnic at Harris Lake Park. We all had lots of fun, ate some good Hispanic food, and got plenty of sun. Henry had a blast engaging in non-stop water gun warfare, Ben got to play some beach volley ball, and I got to sit and relax. Plus I only found one tick on me when I got home, so that was good.

Tuesday Henry and his Joy School classmates graduated. We were supposed to have the graduation party at the park, but right when we walked out the door it started raining. So everybody came over to our place instead. Henry was excited to move past Joy School and is looking forward to going to kindergarten this August. Yeah, Henry.



Wednesday I folded a giant mountain of laundry. Sorry, no before and after photo. It would be far too shocking.

Thursday Henry and I went to the zoo. We rode down with our neighbor and her little boy, plus one of her friends and her little boy. We had to make an emergency pit stop at the Wal-Mart in Siler City for a bathroom break. Henry didn't want to go in so we waited in the car. Then about thirty seconds later he decided he wanted to use the bathroom after all. On the way in we ran into my father-in-law. Henry looked at him and said, "I know you!" One should hope so, although I guess meeting people you know out of context throws everybody for a loop. The zoo was lots of fun and we got to ride the shuttle bus back to our parking lot, which Henry and the boys really enjoyed. Then I got a huge headache, but after chugging three quarters of a Mt. Dew the caffeine did it's job and I didn't throw up. Yeah!



And today we went to the library and I found a new suit for Henry on sale for fifteen bucks. Not as cheap as his old suit ($10), but this one came with a shirt and tie. I had to threaten him with death to get him to try it on. And yes, he looks very cute in it. Even when he pulls a silly face.

Another Random Sampler

A while back while we were on an outing, a little bird got inside the house. Ben had left the upstairs bathroom window open, which is currently sans screen. When we got home he was disturbed by what he assumed was something the cat had done on his computer desk. Of course, a few seconds later the bird made his/her presence known by flapping around the computer room in a panic, and hid behind some junk on the top of the bookshelf. Dori, of course, was delighted, albeit a little frustrated because she'd been unable to get her claws on the bird. Ben, however, was not delighted, as there were several deposits of bird poop on his computer. Ben asked me for help in evicting the bird, wondering aloud if we'd have to rig a sheet or something to scare it out. I told him to open the window, so Ben pulled up the blinds and opened the window about two inches. The bird didn't wait for him to get it open any further and promptly swooped down at the window, smacking right into the glass. Then after a moment it collected it's addled brains and hopped out of the window and out of our lives.

Look closely behind the carousel music box.


I believe this is a Carolina Wren. I also believe he did a fair amount of dusting while he was up there because there are usually more cobwebs adorning the knick knacks.

And for those of you craving a Henry story:

Saturday Henry gave a jubilant, "Whoo hoo!" Then he explained himself, "I said 'whoo hoo' because I didn't want to go to church."


And a photo of Henry and his cute cousin, Wesley:

Stupid Birds

Another bird smacked into our back window again. No corpse or anything, but I was getting sick of having to scrape feathers off the glass. Henry and I made a few scary silhouettes to keep them off.



Clockwise from top left: hungry raptor, vampire bat, starving kitty, and Henry's contributions: butterfly and boomerang.

I like the cat one the best since it's in attack mode. But you know that butterfly's pretty cool, too. Birds'll think it's a tasty snack up until that terrifying moment when they get right up on it and realize it's rabid! Ahhhh! We'll have birds dying of heart attacks left and right.

Okay, so I've really been a lazy slob lately. I blame it on the fact that last week we took off Thursday night and spent the weekend at my parents camping and having fun. Saturday while Mom and Dad were occupied at a blood drive, Ben and I loaded their old stove onto Dad's truck. It's one of those glass top deals with two ovens, so the thing felt like it weighed somewhere around three hundred pounds. Loading it involved using caveman mechanics (think ramp constructed from broken table leaf, piece of old barn wood), grunting, sweating, a little swearing (whoops, my bad-- I thought I was going to be crushed-- and Henry was nowhere within hearing range), and using our primitive brains to figure out the winch strap thingies. We managed to get it secured without too much trouble, got Henry in his booster seat and drove home. Henry was adamant that we were only going home to feed the cat and swap out stoves, that we had to go straight back to Papaw's afterward. We moved the old stove out first, which compared with the new one practically weighed nothing at all. Then I directed Ben as he backed the truck up to the front porch, signaled him to stop with upraised hands, yelled, "Stop. Stop! STOP!" and heard an audible snap when he tapped the porch rail with the tailgate. The rail was knocked a little loose, and there was a crack along the line where the bricks meet the concrete part of the porch, but the porch roof didn't collapse on me. Hurrah, I'm still alive.

So after a long weekend I went home and reaqcuainted my butt with my computer chair. Feels good to be back.

Easter Weekend

Saturday we all went to the Super Target in Apex to see about procuring a few items, namely some vegetables for Ben's moro rice, an Easter Egg dye kit, and some caulk. The veggies were a bust, so we moved on to the egg dye. The entire Easter section had been ransacked by vandals or Visigoths or something; maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but it seemed that all that was left was was half a bag of crushed candy eggs, some peeps a nauseating shade of fuchsia, and a dismembered rabbit carcass. I did, however, find some caulk, so we were able to at least get one thing taken care of. On the way out of the store Henry hung on to the blubber on my waist, singing, "Chubby, chubby, chubby fat."

Thanks a lot, kid. Way to boost my self-esteem.

We drove clear across Raleigh to go to this Hispanic grocery store. Ben found everything he needed and I was able to entertain Henry by telling him what all the dead things in the meat section were. Then we went home and I caulked up the holes in the siding on the back of the house while Ben made his rice. He made it with pigeon peas and aside from the pigeon peas, the rice was good.

Then I boiled up some eggs and Henry helped me dye them. I had about six tablespoons of vinegar left, so we were able to barely coat the bottoms of six bowls. Henry helped me stir food coloring into the vinegar and then ran off to watch TV while I carefully rationed the dye to drizzle over a dozen eggs.

Sunday was busy. Henry was happy because Nee-nee came to church and had fun with a "Barrel of Monkeys" she gave him. The quartet I loosely organized (which included Ben) got to sing their song "Te Necisito Si" (Spanish version of "I need the Every Hour"). Then I got to substitute for Henry's Sunday school class. As I've said before, his regular teachers have my admiration, adoration, and deep pity. There's usually eight or nine kids in his class, but since a bunch of families were out of town, there were only seven kids this time. Having previously witnessed the havoc wreaked by Henry and his two pals during Sharing Time I decided since I had two whole hours with them by myself I'd need a bribe to keep them in line. So I brought a bunch of little bags of M&M's and told the kids they'd get a treat if they were really good. It worked for the most part and I actually got through the lesson without too much trouble. Then I found out we're not supposed to give out food of any kind during Sunday school. Whoops. Then I had to herd all seven crazy kids to closing exercises, during which I had to sit between Henry and his buddies, then herd them all back, which was pretty much like trying to herd dandelion fluff during a hurricane. Wow, no wonder they have to have two adults to a class; one to teach and one to herd.

After I got the festering boiled egg stink out of the house by opening the windows, after we'd eaten dinner, and all the craziness was over and calm had settled at the Tilley household, Henry said, "The Easter Bunny isn't real."

Ben then asked him how he got all the stuff in his Easter basket.

Henry replied that it just appeared.

How?

"The wizard from Lord of the Rings."

Seriously, people.

I Need to Find a Pair of Boy's Size 11 White Dress Shoes

And a gray suit and red bow tie. Henry found out that somewhere in the attic I had packed away my old concert band bow tie. Henry literally bugged me for days to go find it for him so he could dress up like Pee Wee Herman. I kid you not. So last week I braved the mess and started digging through the big box full of shoe boxes which contain various souvenirs saved from my pre-marriage life. It took me a while but I found the bow tie. I honestly can't remember why I saved it, or even how I remembered that I still had it. Nevertheless, there it was. Henry was all excited and wanted to put it on right away. The next day and the day following he wanted to wear it everywhere but I made him wait until he actually had to dress up; i.e., for church. I'm uncertain as to how or why, but he went all day at church without taking it off. I'm not sure if he was feeling extra cool wearing it, or if he simply couldn't figure out how to get it off. At any rate he looked really cute, despite the fact that he forgot a belt and his pants kept slipping and showing off his Spider-man underpants.

I keep thinking one day he'll be all grown up and I'll have run out of things in the attic for him to play with. What a bittersweet day that will be.

Another Test in Patience

Ok, it was supposed to be an eye exam, but Henry finds all kinds of ways to get me riled up. Plus it was four p.m., a time when he really should have been at home making me crazy instead of at the optometrist's. They really ought to come up with something over the counter for moms who're going through the "what's this what's that why why why" phase of five year old boys. I know, they've already got something and it's called booze, but I'm a non-drinker, so there goes that. The million question marathon started early this morning and I got a two hour break while Henry was at joy school, then it started again when I picked him up, quieted a little so he could cram in some lunch, cranked back up when we went to the store, then went into full blast at the optometrist's office.

I believe with all my heart that Henry flunked the vision test at the pediatrician's simply by being Henry. He's like a honey bee, buzzing from one thing to the next, and if the thing he's presented with isn't full of sweet, sweet nectar, he's not giving it the time of day. He plays along at first and then my son, Henry, whose vision is sharp enough to tell me that the B.J.'s sign had a broken b, that Wal-mart was the store with the star on it, tells the chick with the eye chart that everything is fuzzy. Of course, it's fuzzy. Fuzzy means your eyes are bad and you need glasses, which Henry wants desperately. Being a little liar, albeit a cute one, he's also bouncing all over the place, looking everywhere but where he's told. I have to hold his head still so they can used the machine to see how his eyes are focusing, but that was hardly helpful since he kept looking away every time she tried to run the test. Then the optometrist does her thing and I'm thinking to myself what a huge waste of time the trip was. Not a bit surprised when she says he doesn't need glasses.

Henry was disappointed, though. At the the check out counter he whined and insisted that his eyes were bad and he needed glasses, so the clerk gave him some of those plastic rolled-up disposable sunglasses for when you get your eyes dilated. That helped a little. Then another office lady asked him who his favorite basketball team was and because he knows his Dad hates Carolina (Ben's a NC State fan, which by definition means you have to hate UNC), said North Carolina was his favorite. The office lady gave him a little blue basketball.

"Oh, Henry. You're going to make Daddy mad when he sees that."

Henry grins with evil delight.

When we get home he races inside with the ball. "Dad! Look!"

Green Eggs and Shots

Yesterday it was my turn for Joy School again. Since I did a hash job on Tuesday and forgot to do the Green Eggs and Ham story, I threw it in with the other stuff about the joy of trust, etc. Beforehand I warned Henry that we were going to be making green eggs and ham for our Joy School snack. He thought that was pretty cool, but he was dead certain that he hated green eggs and ham and would not be personally sampling any of it. The kids gathered around and watched as I scrambled some eggs with green food coloring and cooked them along with a piece of ham. The ham was one of those little Canadian bacon pieces, but I didn't put any dye on it. Something about green meat makes me shudder, even if it is only dyed. I had to put cheese on the eggs to get Henry to eat any. He insisted that he wasn't touching the ham. For some reason he was convinced that ham was one of the millions of things he hates and will never eat. Not even in a box with a fox on a train in the rain. I served him some anyway, a third of a piece of the little Canadian bacon. I cut a tiny piece off of that and had him try it. It was pretty funny watching his face, because it was obvious he was trying to think up something negative to say as he put it in his mouth (a miracle that he did it, if you ask me) and when he tasted it, a look of pleased surprise, and a slightly guilty amusement because he knew that I knew he'd been plotting to weasel out of eating the rest of it. Then without further ado he popped the rest of the ham in his mouth and ate his green eggs and cheese. Yeah! One more thing Mr. Picky will eat.

Today Henry had his annual visit to the doctor. It being his five year check up, he had four vaccinations waiting for him. Since Henry hasn't had a shot in so long I explained the process, why we have shots and all that. Then I told him the good news: after getting shots you get a treat. Henry decided that he wanted bubble gum. I think I was more nervous about him getting shots than he was, remembering myself getting those shots in the leg when I was a little kid, so I from time to time reminded him of his awaiting treat to keep him positive. I didn't really have to worry about that. He was very chatty with the nurse and doctor and told him all about being five and having "a lot of Legos" and holding a closed fist, "That's zero. Zero is nothing." He had his vision and hearing tested, and while his hearing is fine, I'm going to have to take him to the optometrist to have his vision rechecked because everything on one line was "too little" which means he may have inherited Ben's eyes, even if they are brown like mine and not blue like Ben's. Then Henry got two shots in each leg. Poor guy, he was trying so hard to be tough. Lucky for him the nurse was a pro and had all four shots done in less than two seconds, so all he had time for was a few tears. Then we went to the grocery store and hooked him up with a four-pack of gum, one pack for each shot. On the car ride home he had to sample every flavor, so I had to clean up some sampled gum when we got home. Too bad vegetables don't come wrapped up like candy.

Tonight on the way to grab some dinner at Dairy Queen we passed by Henry's future school.

"Look, Dad! There's my school!"