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.