Here's us now

Sloane and Lola. One of Cort's first words is "Lola."
Billie and Molly- all ready for Brownies.
Setting up the Christmas tree

The queen's birthday

pictures from 2008

clucky

Why do my babies keep turning into kids?!


And doesn't this little moment make you want to have another baby?

earning the soccer mom badge

I have a problem with volunteering. Actually it's more of a problem with not being able to say 'No' (to people over age 8). So, I'm the cub scout master- which is kinda cool because, who masters the cubs? I DO.
But then I teach CCD, which is just not flashy. And then I bring mediocre food to pot lucks and bake sales.
Anyhow I realized the extent of my problem the other day when I found myself introducing myself as "You may have known me as Professor Wilma" (my starring role as the kooky scientist at our science lab of vacation bible study.) Sigh.
Anyhow- when I'm not being helpful I sometimes take pictures. Today we went Ice Skating with Nanna Carrie and I was not as useful as the wall for holding the wobbly kids up.

Snotablog tribute

I've noticed that some people have these blogs that are more than funny and venting. Some blogs have music and videos...beyond that some are useful and full of information. We'll call them snotablogs because they're justnotablog they are MORE. (And also beacause I'm jealous and haivng a snotablog sounds gross). Snotablogs include craft projects and recipes AND amusing anecdotes AND links. Well, I've considered this for some time and decided to keep my plain little blog as it is...no frills (see, it's a decision not just laziness!)

But here's my contribution to the Snotablog movement; it's a recipe:

2 cloves ( or 1 or 5...whatever)
2 Tablespoons Olive oil (or seasame oil)

Heat up, set to cool 1 hour, drop into achey ear and watch child go from grumpy and whiney to happy and giggly. Top it off with a cotton ball so the oil stays in and you have an excuse to yell "Use a tissue for heavens sake!!" a little louder than usual.

As we enter the season of children wiping runny noses on their shirts, hands and into their hair...the season of a hacking cough all over the turkey baster 'microphone' before handing it over to the kid standing next to them during the living room rock show. I thought I could put this info out to other Moms who might need to help their little ones through an earache. We haven't really dealt with earaches in our family too much and I had no idea what to do for Billie last week when she was miserable all morning. Another Mom told me about garlic oil, I googled it and tried it out and had a happy kid by trick or treat time.

Happy Winter.

Halloweenies

I didn't change the clock in my bedroom when we got an extra hour. So now I wake up BEFORE 8am and look at how productive I am!!! Two blogs in two days. Billie and Cort are from Teen Titans, Jackson is obviously Ash Ketchum (I made it) and Sloane is a weak link at Butterfree- a butterfly looking Pokemon. Sloane didn't want to wear the antlers.

He heard it from me

Today I taught my son the s-word. Here's how it went.
J: Mom, what's the s-word?
A: There's lots of words that start with S...sunshine...super. (Ever so casually) In what context did you hear that?
J: Well Charlie said that his little sister said the s-word and he didn't even tell me what the s-word is!
A: Oh well, in that case he was just saying the first letter because the word is impolite in itself. I think he was referring to 'Shit' which is a rude word people use sometimes.
J: Oh. Well, what does 'Schut' mean anyway? (Isn't that cute he's so unfamiliar that he mispronounces it with a German accent and everything?)
A: I think it means poop.
J: Oh.

So, that's the day I taught my son a curse word. For a moment I thought "I guess it's best that he hear it from me." But then that sounded wrong. It would be best to hear it from some bad older kid who shows us all the examples of ways NOT to behave. There are some things my kids are missing out on by not being in school with a large group of peers for 40 hours a week. Maybe I should start organizing playdates with more bad kids...pretty soon we'll be doing a lesson on how to make spitballs. What would it be like to grow up without knowing that, if you throw a wad of wet TP on the ceiling it will stick there? I guess we'll see.

virtual friends

Today I caught up with old friends. What a lovely day I had, peeking in on people I love, seeing their children grow, guffawing myself silly over their hilarious stories of what happens during ordinary days at home. Does it sound wrong to thank God for blogs?
One thing I'm good at: making friends. Bill has pointed out that I keep making friends with female versions of him. It's true, I have all these strong, determined, passionate friends. They have all these amazing skills, they're organized and changing the world and Mothers and struggling and creative and wise and selfish and warm and sometimes I agree with them. They even keep up with current events. Imagine! Here's the thing about having wonderful friends...I am HORRIBLE about keeping up with my friends. I'm not one of those people who loses friends. (Certainly not as often as I lose cameras.) There are a few who've fallen between the couch cushions, I'm sure. For the most part they're still here...around here...somewhere (as, I'm sure the camera is.) I'll find time to send out an email and a Christmas letter at least once a year.
I'm weary about much of the 21st century stuff- gave up Nutrasweet just last week and I do run a whole house without dryer sheets in the laundry. But I do loves me some blogs! Thank goodness for the women who write them. I'm sure they'll be fun and horrifying when I'm old and look at them as records of life but for now they're just this incredible connection to my friends all over the world. Thanks, girls. I love you. It's nice to hear from people who aren't making popcorn and string cheese for dinner tonight.

family fun

Nannou and Boppy came for a visit. They were up for all kinds of adventure. So much fun taking walks, playing chase in the parks, spending 3 nights in a Cappadocia castle and playing Chess with Jackson.
Jackson is a true kindness-to-all-creatures sort. He attracts stray cats and dogs everywhere we go.

earning the Dork badge

I have a problem with volunteering. Actually it's more of a problem with not being able to say 'No' (to people over age 8). So, I'm the cub scout master- which is kinda cool because, who masters the cubs? I DO.
But then I teach CCD, which is just not flashy. And then I bring mediocre food to pot lucks and bake sales.
Anyhow I realized the extent of my problem the other day when I found myself introducing myself as "You may have known me as Professor Wilma" (my starring role as the kooky scientist at our science lab of vacation bible study.) Sigh.
Anyhow- when I'm not being helpful I sometimes take pictures. Today we went Ice Skating with Nanna Carrie and I was not as useful as the wall for holding the wobbly kids up.

The Biggest Loser

Tell me about it! I wanted to post this blog with before and afta pictures of Bill from last summer and this summer- it's a major difference but he's such a beefcake now that we'd get all sorts of the wrong kind of attention on our blog. Playgirl will have to find their next calendar man elsewhere. He runs races, works out MORE than once a day, bikes to and from work 4 days a week!!!! (and Ankara has hills!) He's even doing Yoga with me...but in a very macho way.

I had a loss of my own; in the hair department. Wouldn't it be cool to have dreadlocks? To have a hairstyle that requires no primping but can still go into braids, pony tails, chopstick buns and other variations. And what about the message it sends. Hair with a message...that's what I'm talkin' 'bout. Something that says "Hello world- I don't buy into your narrow view of beauty." I want dreadlocks. I managed to get three of my disapproving and conventional friends over under false pretenses and then pleaded with them to put my hair into dreadlocks. It's a very complicated process- as you can see from the picture.

Dreadlocks take patience. One must release any concern for what others think as your hair spazes out and looks nothing like dreadlocks for weeks and smells funny from the Apple Cider Vinegar used for shampoo. I hang out with a lot of kids so there were the occaisional whispers of "why is your Mom's hair doing that?" and the more frequent and direct..."why is your hair crazy today?" I was going strong for a few weeks and then there was the Egyptian food poisoning episode (see previous blog). Writing about this is sort of like when you taste something gross, announce "This is gross" and then hand it to someone and say "Try it." We had food poisioning...it wasn't a stomach bug where one person gets it first and then when they just get over the worst of it, you get it, and then the next day the other kid gets it. We all got hit with nausea on the same night. Picture this- we're all in ONE hotel room, with ONE bathroom. At first I'm all 'ick' and dragging pukey bedsheets to the tiny bathroom sink and spot washing with laundry soap. But after getting up 5 times in the middle of the night to clean up after 3 different sickos- and feeling totally rotten myself- I just started putting the smelly blankets on to the balcony and going back to lie down. (Alright, it was really only once that I tried to clean before moving on to the balcony of leave-it-for-the-maid technique).
Anyhow, with the smells and the cleaning and the general smog and dirt of Egypt I got to the point of wanting nothing more but to take 3 showers a day and my new baby dreadies wouldn't hold up to that much washing. I just relented and combed them all out. Which is sad now. I miss my hair and want dreadlocks even more than ever.

Seeing stuff that's really quite old

Egypt was fun. What would a trip be without the inevitable moments of feeling like you were married to Chevy Chase and in the movie Vacation rather than on vacation? Apart from the 48 hours we spent with food poisoning (note: when you go on the dinner cruise on the Nile...avoid the buffet food) we had a great time seeing lots of really old things and playing in the hotel waterpark pool.

take that Bully!

home body

This year is the year I've enjoyed staying home. Not that we actually spend much time IN the house but I do try to schedule at least one day a week where I'm not driving and we just hang around here, maybe go to the park or walk to the market but no major events. A day when we're not going from here to there does a lot for our stamina through the week.
That said, we've been SOOO busy. I feel like we're constantly involved in stuff..even when we don't leave the house Billie, Jackson and Sloane even are going to their friends' and they invite their friends over here so there's more than 8 kids here at least 3 days a week- so being home certainly doesn't equate to down time. Ask me how many times I had to 'turn on the light and say "Something is not right!" in my Ms. Clavel voice yesterday as EACH of the six girls who were here took turns being Madeline in our re-enactment of the story book...and you will get a sense of how un-down-time it really is.
I've noticed I really like it. I haven't been itching to take any trips, I'm not envious of all the places our friends and those around us are traveling to this summer. I think the kids would rather meet their friends at the park in the backyard than see ancient ruins and I'm enjoying our summer of no travels. At the same time I can hardly wait for September. I am eager to get back our quiet mornings of lessons and reading while all the other kids are away at school. For now our lessons seem the only 'down time' in our day as soon as they're done we're off in the van or Jackson is on the phone to his friends- gathering up a gang for outside 'army'. If this has a thing-of-the-past air about it, it's because we'll be taking a trip to Egypt soon...I'm pretty sure.