Okay, I'm not gonna lie.  Starting Kindergarten has been rough.  Maybe that's because I didn't expect it to be.  I expected it to be like Preschool, and it's not.

Like when Shaun ended up in the middle school drop-off line and a teacher left Evan standing in the POURING RAIN of Fay without any direction... like when Shaun looked in his rearview mirror and saw him chasing the car, crying, with his arms stretched out and running his duck-footed run.  That wasn't like preschool.  Not at all.

Nor was it like preschool when Shaun got out of the car to console him and the pitiful excuse of a teacher manning the car-line led Evan away by the hand, scolding him while he sobbed his way to class.

In preschool, there was no early dismissal day of the week.  It was always the same time.

Which is why when he was in preschool, his pitiful excuse of a mother never forgot what time to pick him up.

He never cried because all the children had been picked up except for him- never felt that moment of panic and isolation, when he couldn't see his white car anywhere.

At preschool there was no such thing as "extended care" with unfamiliar teachers and students.  In preschool, someone he knew would've sat with him till they found me.

But he's a big boy now and preschool is far behind him. 

No more fire drills by manual whistle blows.

He's onto the real thing, with flashing blue lights and screaming sirens. 

The other kids cried.

But not him, because he's a big boy now.  He saves the tears for bigger issues.  Like abandonment.  

Labels: beach, bittersweet, dumbhead parenting, Evan, milestones, pics, summer

...that my husband just informed me was never an actual hurricane.               

I've told you she's senseless before, haven't I?

And okay, maybe so am I for letting her do this.

It was pretty chilly and pelting down on her... not to mention the WIND!  But she's a daredevil.

In a few more years, she might be that one you see on the news, surfing or kite boarding while the hurricane sweeps onshore, and while the reporters from The Weather Channel and every local station grip onto palm trees and promise you in dramatic, breathless tones that it really is very windy, and did you see how their hood just lifted with that last gust of wind, lions and tigers and bears- oh my!

And I might be the woman in a moo-moo with a bottle of booze and barefoot from having an out of control teenager who likes to kite board in hurricanes.

Or maybe I'll just shrug my shoulders and join her.  That sure sounds better than a moo-moo.

(Her poor big brother had a collision with the dog right when we got outside and skinned his ankle very badly.)  It took about 6 Sponge Bob Band-Aids to mend him, and we left him dressed in warm clothes on the couch to heal.  We left the dog on the back porch.  To think about what he did.

Speaking of the dog, he got so scared last night when we made him go into the storm to pee that he hid underneath the deck.  Where there were surely roaches and rats and snakes. 

Shaun pulled him inside the house while he whimpered LOUD-LY.  We thought the neighbors might call the Humane Society, it was such a fight to get him back in.  Then he smelled like dead animals and had a black stomach, so he spent most of the night on the porch. 

(Just in case you were wondering what we did last night.)

Random side note: water droplets are very fun to photograph.

So is wet hair.

It adds a kind of ethereal quality, don't you think?

I feel like I can glimpse what she will look like when she's older in these.

I love polka dots.  They compliment her little white teeth, don't you think?

I love umbrellas, too.

Hm.  Maybe that's why I bought a polka dot umbrella.  (This isn't it.)

Of course, umbrellas have their vices.

Unless you're Mary Poppins.  She might, like Mary Poppins, go kite boarding now if a strong enough wind comes along.  Which is fitting, because in the first post I ever wrote I described her as being like Mary Poppins, "practically perfect in every way."

I took these yesterday and it has rained right up until now... while I was posting these pictures it stopped. 

What I should post is a shot of our pool.  It needs to be drained some- it is over-flowing.  Shaun read that we had more rain during this storm than we've had in the last 6 months.  Usually, we have a brief thunderstorm in the afternoon, if anything.

No school for three days- that's how this first week of school started out.  One mother said to me, "My house is worse than a Catergory One Hurricane, come on!" 

Three days of canceled school, all this rain and no lightening??  How could we resist playing in it?      

Labels: boo boos, Madalyn, photography, pics, summer, when hurricanes strike

Yesterday, I asked him to go to time out and HE WENT.  And stayed there.

I told him no bath until he at his green beans, and he ATE THEM.

I think we're making progress. 

On a side note, does he look like Brangelina's older baby girl here to anyone?  I thought so.  (I think it's the swollen Angelina mouth from the sunburn.)

Hot dog, I love that smile. 

Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggety dog...  (He loves that Mickey Mouse Song.)  He also loves the Thomas song and rides his Thomas car around the house humming hm hm hm hm- hmhmhm, hm hm hm hm- hmhmhm...

This morning he picked up a small plastic bag from my jewelry box that had blue buttons in it. 

Those are buttons, I said.

He tried to open them.  Candy, he said.

No, they're for your clothes, see, (I held them to my shirt.)

Oh, maaan, he said.

Okay, I know I said we were leaving the dunes last post, so let's leave already.

We will have to come back once more for Evan, (I'm just warning you now, you're not clear out of the dunes yet.)

Like any other two year old boy, he hated the chair.

Why, oh WHY would I make him sit on a sinking green chair when there is so much wide-open space to run in? 

Oh the injustice!  The inhumanity!

But he doesn't understand that THIS...

is very difficult to keep in focus.

Freedom makes him happy.  So I treat him like any other client and suck it up, I do what makes him happy.

And happy is good.  So what if my quads hurt from running in a bent stoop to catch this.

I do it for other kids all year long, why not do it for him?

THIS frozen moment makes it all worth it; totally worth feeling like I actually went to a gym and did the stair master. 

And I guess can make that sacrifice.  

Labels: baby, beach, boys will be boys, conversation, Jack, national lampoon family vacations, photography, pics, summer

This was my slip when I was little.  I had no idea how to pose like this when I was little.  I was too innocent and pure and naive.

Just kidding.  She totally gets that from me.  I'm a poser.

My mom has pictures of me in this slip and I am quite brown from the summer sun like she is.  Okay, okay, she's red because I didn't reapply her sunscreen.  But normally she's more brown than I ever am or was. 

I wish I had those old photographs to post with these.  Mine were done in front of a mirror in a studio, though, with the white hazy effect of the 80's, and I kind of hope to imitate those some day. 

But "some day's" tend to never come.

Comparing our personalities is much like comparing our photographs, though.  She's not completely like me.  She is and she isn't. 

She can make friends with a lamp post, (and in fact, she made friends with a little girl not even in our group this trip and spent an entire day with her,) but she's not nearly as sensitive as I was when I was little.  She's hard to offend or upset, which means if someone hurts her feelings it makes me MAD.  Because it takes a lot to hurt her. 

She's tough, and sassy...  saucy.  She's saucy.  I like that word.  I learned it when I read Wuthering Heights in high school.  It might be one of my favorite words, and I'm so glad I have a daughter who fits it.

My Aunt Carolyn described her as having a "coy" way about her, which would be another completely perfect description.

(She looks a lot like my baby pictures in this particular one, don't you think, mom?  Nana?) 

She's more girly than I was, though.  I secretly hated pink, and matching mother-daughter clothes, and just clothes in general.  I preferred water-skiing and bike-riding, though I did love my baby dolls.  L-O-V-E-D my doll babies.  They went with me everywhere.  But I preferred THEM to wear the frilly pink things, not me.

She loves pink.  L-O-V-E-S pink.  And doesn't really care for baby dolls for more than five minutes at a time.  She would rather mother her stuffed animals.  She prefers the frilly clothes to be on her, not on her toys.  She is attracted to anything sparkly, shiny, glittery, flashy, fancy, much like a Barracuda.  She recently told me she didn't want to wear a particular outfit because it wasn't "fancy enough." 

On this beach trip, case in point, we had to make her wear a t-shirt the last day because she was getting too red ( don't pretend you didn't notice.)  The t-shirt offered by a friend was a Batman one.  She was NOT okay with this- I repeat- NOT okay.  She threw the biggest, most unexpected fit I've ever witnessed out of her.  When I asked what was so terribly wrong she told me the t-shirt hurt her feelings.  I asked her how on earth a shirt could hurt someone's feelings.  She said, "because it doesn't appreciate me." 

Actually it was more like- becuzz it duzzent uhhh-priiii-shaa-aate meeee- ah-ho-hee-hee-hee....  (face crumpled in distraught.)

In adult terms: it ain't flattering.

And she does say some funny, funny things.  I am sad to have forgotten a lot of them already.  Yesterday, though, she said while hanging from the handle of a grocery cart upside down and thinking it was hard work, "WHOA, I can't handle this!!"  To which Jack parroted, "WHOA- I can't HANDLE this!"

She says sweet, thoughtful things, too.  She tells me I'm her best friend in all the world.  She tells me I look so very beautiful when I SO don't.  She says I'm her sister.  AMEN!  We are sisters, girl!  We certainly are.

She used to tell me she loved me soooo strong, but she's old enough to know that's not how people say it anymore.  And that makes me want to cry.

She asked me the other day if God could ever die and be gone.  Could he be run over by a car? 

We talked it over some and I realized that what she was essentially asking me was whether or not we could ever be separated from God, and was this something she should worry about?  The Lord brought two of the few verses I have hidden away in my heart to mind- Psalm 139-

7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
       Where can I flee from your presence?

8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
       if I make my bed in the depths, ^[a] you are there.

9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
       if I settle on the far side of the sea,

10 even there your hand will guide me,
       your right hand will hold me fast.

11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
       and the light become night around me,"

12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
       the night will shine like the day,
       for darkness is as light to you.

and:

38For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,^[a] neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 8

(Of course I paraphrased these verses to meet her understanding.)  Then I asked her if God answered her question.  She nodded.  I said, "where did he answer your question,"  (thinking she might say the Bible, His word,) but instead she pointed to her heart. 

I couldn't have understood it,  nor expressed it better myself.

But back to that saucy thing.

She likes to shake her "bon-bon."  Like her teacher taught her.  At PRESCHOOL.

Please tell me how I'm supposed to refrain from laughing.  Oh, I don't even try.  No, in fact, I ASK her to do this, though in these pictures, and quite often, she doesn't require any asking. 

She shakes it freely.  

Like her mother, Shaun would say... to the pizza man... when the kids run to the door naked. 

Labels: beach, Madalyn, national lampoon family vacations, parenthood, photography, pics, sugar and spice, summer

In a perfect world I would live in a cottage on the beach. 

Okay, I'll keep it real- not a cottage, exactly, but a sizeable house that still FEELS like a cottage.

I would have a chef and a maid who not only clean but do our laundry, and not because they have to, but because they love to do these things like I love to take pictures, (so that we wouldn't be putting anyone out.) 

They would be funny and endearing and trustworthy, like part of the family, (so that they wouldn't be putting us out.)  And they would have beautiful Spanish accents and be of older age.  Because it's my perfect world and I said so.       

The house that looks like a cottage would smell good all the time.  In the morning it would smell like blueberry muffins, at lunch time it would smell like fresh basil and produce, in the afternoon it would smell like pineapple and coconut, and in the evening it would smell like a good roast. 

At sunset it would smell like chocolate.

I would never snap at the kids because my house would smell so good and my laundry was clean, and temper tantrums would be a snap with nothing else to do but cope with temper tantrums. 

We would play on the beach all day, and I would take pictures in the evenings.  Some of the evenings. 

Other evenings I would read, or take long walks with Shaun and have sex on the beach.  (The drink, of course.)  Or as far as you know.

And I would be able to edit every picture just by looking at it.  (Which would mean my need to do all in both color and black and white would not be an issue.)  Oh, and because I would have unlimited storage space that was guaranteed to never become corrupt but last until the end of time, naturally.

Shaun wouldn't have to work.  He would play in the sun with us all day long, and sunburns and skin cancer wouldn't exist.  Neither would sharks. Nor algae nor mildew.  Nor jelly fish.

Only suntans and dolphins.  And minnows. 

And game fish that don't mistake humans for prey.  That would be okay, I guess.  For Uncle Steve's sake.  And Uncle John and Uncle Justin and Grandpa Boonie.  (I'm thoughtful like that.)

Jimmy Buffet and Bob Marley and Brooks and Dunn and The Temptations would fill our house with simple songs through speakers in every room.  And there would be hammocks and rocking chairs and a wrap-around porch, and we would have a guest room or two for anyone who wanted to visit.

Charlie would never pee on the floor.

We would be silly all day long.

And no one would ever grow up.

In a perfect world. 

Labels: beach, dreaming and scheming, national lampoon family vacations, photography, pics, summer

I love Summer.  Summer tans, like hers.  Summer mornings, and days, and afternoons, and evenings... like right now.

Jack and I are having appetizers; Triscuits with Muenster cheese and OJ on Ice (mine may or may not have a splash of Amaretto in it.)  The older kids are washing the dog in the shower.  Shaun has to work late, but eh, it's summer.  We'll eat cereal or sandwiches... or Triscuits with Muenster cheese.

And then there's the summer weekend mornings like this one, where the kids climb in bed with us to cuddle, and crisp summer light greets us.  (I love how you can see the word "dream" on the back of Shaun's shirt in the first picture up above.)

It is just so nice to have hardly a schedule at all, to sit with the kids while having your coffee, to do "summer" things like play in the mud puddles and go to swim school.

And let's chat a minute about swim school, shall we?  Evan is in the highest class of those tested, Madalyn in the next level down, and Jack had one-on-one lessons.  I think these lessons back-fired because now Jack LOVES to swim and both he and Charlie (the twins) jump at me simultaneously in the pool.  I literally CANNOT turn my back to watch E or M perform a dive, or there are two bobbing, clawing, flailing bodies soon next to me and thirsty for air. 

Evan was disappointed that swim class was not about showing off his tricks.  Madalyn was disappointed that swim class was not a chat room.  Madalyn ALMOST got her side breaths down, Evan ALMOST got his back stroke down... but they both learned new things and- eventually- learned to follow routine and not swim upstream. 

Still, they had their moments right up to the end of talking over the lane ropes while they waited for their turns, and swimming under them, giggling, and going back to their lane again.  It's hard to be mad when they love being together so much.  When Evan got to wear his flippers for the first time he yelled at the top of his lungs down the ENTIRE length of an Olympic sized pool, "MA-DA-LYN!  I've got FLIPPERS ON!  FLIPPERS!  LOOK!  MADALYN!  MA-DA-LYN!  FLIPPERS!  SEE??  I'M WEARING FLIPPERS!"  His swim teacher was gently gliding the kick board and trying to get him to turn around and do the exercise, but it was no use, he had an entire leg in the air and was waving it frantically toward his sister who was a half a mile away and talking the EAR off her own swim teacher. 

"FLIIIII-PEEEERS!"

Today was the final day of swim class.  This meant they FINALLY got to climb up that high dive they've been eye-balling for the past two weeks.  Evan did the whole thing in a cautious, OCD manner; in an I have set my mind on it, I WILL go through with it, but I could quite possibly wet myself along the way.  Madalyn, on the other hand, (you totally know where this is going, don't you...)

Madalyn could not get off the board fast enough.  Her red polka dot bikini a-flappin' in the air the whole several yards down.  It is HIGH.  I was a little worried about them falling off onto the concrete before getting to the end of it.  Every mom within hearing range asked me one after another, "Now how old is she?"  The older swim class students standing around waiting for the little tykes to get off their boards already were oooing and ahhhing, too.  Look!  Look at that little tiny girl!  I wouldn't have done that at that age.  Look at her!  Even the swim teachers were lifting their shades and sharing knowing looks of amusement.   

The other great thing about swim class, other than an activity in and of itself, is that I think I might have picked up two new babysitters.  Jack's teacher was SO sweet to him and they fell totally in love with each other.  He would point out all the bugs in the pool drain- "I see a bug!  You see da bug?"  and tell her "I tired of kicking," and rest his head on her shoulder. And SHE rubbed his back so tenderly, God love her.

But as short and wonderful a summer as it has been, every now and then, I am feeling that fall itch. 

Well, only in moments like this, really.  When a few hours after she cuddled so innocently, I find her letters permanently monogramming the side of my bed, on my brand spankin' new sheets.

Wasn't too bright of her to SIGN HER NAME in the felony. It's that same senseless quality that makes her such a daredevil on the high dive.

But maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.  After all, I do think of her every time I go to bed, and every time I rise.  And surprisingly, they are thoughts accompanied with a smile and fond feelings.  Feelings that make me want to smother her chlorinated hair with kisses, God love her. 

Labels: adventures in sports, Evan, here comes trouble, Jack, Madalyn, phases, pics, pictures, summer

Also titled" "The Reason I Take Way Too Many Pictures and Can't Narrow Them Down More; It's a Sickness."

I like this one for obvious reasons-  she's spunky, she's mean, she's trying to ruin my camera.

But I can't decide if I like black and white or color, so I edit both of each and alternate them on here...

No, you can't see her face.  So why'd I keep it?  Because the water looks kind of like snow and I just can't toss it... okay?  I can't.

I love her tongue stuck out and the mid-sprint.

I love her hands and the reflection of her suit.  And her tush.  Don't you just want to pinch it?  Okay, well I do.

I love her eyelashes and the wisps on her neck, so even though the next one is more ideal, I can't toss this one either.

The one you definitely don't toss.

She was collecting clams all day and asking me to help her and she has chipped polish.

Her wedgie.  She insists on wearing this suit even though it's too small for her.  She LOVES this suit.

The splash.  The splash is the reason this one wasn't trashed.  It's nothing great, I know... but this is precisely my point- I have issues.

The pony tail swinging.  It's too precious, sorry... can't toss it.  Don't ask me to.

The expression. 

The ponytail stuck to her head.

I don't have to explain this one, this one would be kept if I only picked three... (but don't ask me which the other two would be, that would be like Sophie's choice... not because they're all awesome, but because I'm sentimental and- let's say it all together now- "have issues.")

The expression.

The ponytail holder sticking out of the water, curly and pink like a literal pig tail.

Fully submerged... the kick and the motion in the water.  It's a sickness, I know... this one could've been tossed... no, no it couldn't have.

The babyish coordination.  She ALWAYS wipes her hair out of her eyes this way and when it's not in pigtail holders she walks around looking like the Swamp Thing.  It always makes me laugh.  one day she will learn to come up with it smoothed back and I will be sad.  I might cry.

More of above... but I liked the angle and weeds because it shows where we were.  (Don't make fun.  Shut up.)

The light.  I just like the light on her body and the fish on her back... no good reason to keep it, but, well, a sickness doesn't make sense, this is what I'm saying.

She was making a pineapple out of a pinecone.  Chipped polish. 

You can see the grains of sand falling off her feet... even better when it's not downgraded.

So serious.  Drama queen.

Pointed.  More girly than the first foot pic.  I know... totally excessive and does she have another foot, anyway?

The fake smile smirk that she and Evan are so very good at now.  And I haven't even posted the ones of the boys.  Somebody send help.  I am drowning in gigabytes over here.  Throw me a recycle bin, QUICK!

Labels: Illness, Madalyn, photography, pics, pictures, summer

Ahhh, young love.  A tight embrace.  So tight that the boy's head might pop off.

But it wasn't enough-  she felt she must hold on tighter still

He had no complaints

How could he?  She was a delight, swept him off his feet

So swiftly and passionately that his shoe was left behind

She was six months younger than him, but mature for her age

which became blatantly obvious when he tried to reciprocate his love-

only did not yet have the understanding of physics that she had, and grabbing her entirely too high up to lift her well,

took on much more of an endeavor than he had set out to take on

Still, he knew what to do, and pulling her feet off the ground (with her bending her knees to help,) he let out a fierce, Last of the Mohicans roar from deep in his warrior spirit. 

It's all the more instinctual, animalistic, and testosterone-filled when viewed in black and white... hear the lion growl as if in slow-motion.

(Disclaimer: I swear I do not read romance novels, although a friend gave me one in high school to read and about the time I got to the part where the Viking warrior returned, when certain body parts were compared to certain metals, my mom swept in to the rescue and explained that such books were to some women what Playboy was to some men.  That was the end of that.  The above is narrated in the voice of a narrator off of National Geographic, please read accordingly.  Thank you.)

Labels: boys will be boys, Evan, friends, milestones, photography, pics, pictures, summer

We're getting an early start to Summer 'round here. Well, not me, personally. I just don't prefer 20 degree temperatures and leftover rainwater for my swimming, but these guys don't seem to mind. Madalyn keeps talking about how she can swim "because it's summer," as if the season itself is responsible for her progress in taking breaths and crossing the pool, nevermind that it's actually SPRING right now.

Speaking of Madalyn and summer- today, we here at McDonnell Place will be baking Strawberry Pie, per Madalyn's request. I'm not sure why she wanted to cook this particular pie- maybe Strawberry Shortcake (as in the cartoon girl from the 80's who lives in a dessert house- not the dessert Strawberry Shortcake,) had something to do with it- but it is a first for me. I didn't even know people put strawberries in pies. But it is in keeping with the lovely Spring weather we're having here. (Or Summer weather, depending on who you're talking to.)

So let's start, shall we?

Ingredients:

First, we will rally our kitchen assistants. We will give them **VERY BLUNT everyday knives to help remove the stems from the washed strawberries:

Interesting. Is that a bundt pan sitting there? Oh, right. I took this picture back in February. Still, the kids look the same. (Some with less hair, some with more,) but more or less- the same. Jack- quite the ladies man with those lips, and the cherry coupe in his hand- what a stud.

After trimming the berries and baking your pie shell you fill it with whole strawberries, like so:

It's okay if your pie crust slides into itself like this. In fact, it is to be strived for as it makes it appear more, er... "homemade."

Next, mash your remaining strawberries:

Add sugar:

And stir.

And cornstarch.

Which by the way, comes in a nifty can now. (Am I giving away how long it's been since I've baked?)

Add water, too... stir. Boil this mixture only about 2-3 minutes as it gets thick really fast.

Now, I'm going to do something that isn't in the original recipe, that I read in a review. I'm going to add butter while it is still really hot.

Every recipe needs butter and I was a little disturbed to see this one lacking, and thus, very thrilled to read Shellberry's review on allrecipes.com, in which she says she added 1 T butter. HECK YEAH, girl!

Hmm. Does that look like a tablespoon? I may add a smidge more, who can really tell. Point is, ADD BUTTER, then pour mixture over berries already in caved-in crust:

I know, my mouth is watering, too. But wipe your chin because we can't eat it yet. We will scald our mouths senseless. Into the fridge it goes:

When you have three children and a part-time job and are a terrible multi-tasker, you purchase many pre-packaged items at your local store, OH-KAAAY?

Then you wait. And you change the smelly diaper you've ignored the last 5 minutes that is starting to ruin the scent of strawberries. (That kind of scent combination could be scarring, so take care of it, already.) A short hour later we will come back and get it out.

Oh, look at that. It's an hour later...

I WISH you could taste this!! And I don't even like fruity things much.

Well, it's pretty and all, but we can't have such a lovely piece of food on a paper plate! We better give this one to the kids and start over.

(SIGH...) MUCH better. But isn't everything better with ice cream? And whipped cream. I only wish I would take a picture of it all running and oozing together, but I can't because I'm speaking in present tense when, in fact, the pictures were taken about a week ago- and- okay- I have to end abruptly here because I'm suddenly STARVING.

Labels: let there be butter and sour cream, Madalyn, pictures, summer