The Best and Brightest

It has been the wettest summer I can remember in Southeast Texas--and I grew up here. We have a permanent bog in the backyard and all the neighbors do, too. Toward the end of July, the kid's babysitter brought them a large jar of tadpoles scooped from her puddle. Ian, or resident zoologist, was beside himself. We read our From Tadpole to Frog, and Toads and Frogs books, observed their habits, and kept adding fresh water to their habitat. It would appear that our jar had several different types of frogs, because one grew legs within two weeks and freed himself from the jar in a single bound. 'Jumpy' (as he was appropriately named) was re-captured and released into the wild.
Several nights ago, as we were making preparations for the state rep's follow up visit, the kids became convinced that they had spotted their beloved 'Jumpy' in the yard. I didn't bother to point out the statistical probability of such a reunion. I just smiled and said, "Oh, wow! And does he look well and happy?"
On a second trip out to the yard, I found them clustered around the dachshunds who were evidently toying with some small critter before the final kill. Ian called to me excitedly:
Ian: Mom, Mom! Sally and Gigi are after a frog! They're going to kill it I think! But don't worry, Mom, it is not Jumpy.
Me: Oh?
Ian: No Jumpy, is safe way on the other side of the yard!...He is hiding...He is a smart little jumper...'Cause we don't raise no dumb frogs!

That's right baby, only highly intelligent frogs found here.

First Day Of School

First day of school for the three oldest Su_______ Children. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in Mrs. Harris's pre-K classroom! I'm not a big proponent of putting your child in pre-K, but since it is offered at their school regardless of income, and because he just missed Kindergarten by three days (and because another year of Marina and Ian constantly at each others' throat would put me in an assylum), Ian is off to school this year. Abby can't wait to display her academic talents in first grade, and K will be the teacher's aide for third.

Love Note

My last entry was the post that broke the master's back. He kidded me about it, but deep down, I think his feelings were hurt. But C'mon? Dishwashing gloves and rug tape? How could I pass that up? He says that I paint him to be a ignorant, neanderthal, sexist pig. Out of the seven people who read this blog, five of you know him personally, so you know that nothing could be farther from the truth! That is what makes it funny. I do poke fun at him on this blog. Too much. I tell him it is payback for all the times I've been used as a sermon illustration (which is more times than I can count). At least he doesn't have to smile and hug your neck as you exit the blog.

I promised him that my next post would be a love note. I don't think he believed me, but here it is. Read quick, because chances are he will beg me to take it down as soon as he finds it.

Five reasons I love my husband:

1. The way he loves children. Not just our children--and he loves them a whole lot. But kids, in general, flock to him. Case in point, I went up to the warehouse one day last week when the kids were with Nana. The first sound I heard was a little girl's bubbly giggle. I followed the sound, knowing it would take me to my husband. Sure enough, I found him. A coworker's granddaughter--down for a visit and stuck at the office for the day--had drawn him into some silly game. She was having a marvelous time, and truth be told, so was he, though he claimed "he hadn't got any work done because of that pesky kid."
When we were dating, we went with his church group one weekend to lead an outreach event at an inner city, HUD housing complex. I remember watching him play with a group of 20-25 kids in a wild and woolly round of chase. When they finally brought him down and dog piled him with their snotty, sweaty, stinky bodies I thought, "Yep, that is the man for me."
2. The second is closely related, but not the same. Alot of guys can play with kids and be the "fun" parent, but not so many pitch in when it comes to the nitty gritty. What I'm talking about here is domestic support. Women ask me all the time, "How do you manage with five?" The answer is, "I don't!" We manage with five. When he is here, we are equal partners in parenting and household work. The mom of my daycare kid tells me, "Oh, my husband hasn't changed a diaper yet. He doesn't know how." And then she laughs, as if that is something to be proud of?! Randy vomits? I bathe the baby and he mops the mess and changes the sheets, or I change the sheets and he bathes the baby. Company is expected to arrive in 30 minutes? I finish putting supper on the table and he scrubs the toilettes. Out of groceries and I have a meeting? He goes shopping (though not for daycare supplies--HE, HE!). It doesn't matter if we need milk...or tampons...or Monistat 7. He's out of clean underwear? He gathers a load and puts it on to wash. My point is that there are few, if any, "Woman's Work" jobs in this house. And these are not rare instances when he decides to lend a hand--it is the way our home functions day in, day out. I know I take it for granted. When I was trying to get a MOPS group started in our old home town, I kept planning meetings for the evenings and the women would say, "I can't come because I don't have childcare," or "let me ask my husband if he can babysit the kids." You're married, but you don't have childcare? Ask your husband if he will babysit? I don't know how many times my friend Cari had to slap me up side the head saying, "But, Jessica, your husband is different." She was right. He is, and I'm SO thankful.
3. I love the fact that he knows everyone by name--the mail-lady, the guy at the hardware store, the drunk that hangs out at the gas station--but only ever calls me "babe."
4. I love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. I love that he smiles often.
5. Did you ever play the word association game in school? The teacher would call out a word or phrase and you had to write down the first thing you thought of? Whenever I hear the word 'righteous,' I think about my husband. I love that.

There you have it. For as long as it lasts. And not a trace of sarcasm.

Not Up to Par

Doesn't that look like a wonderful place for children to learn and grow? The licensing representative just left my lovely little house. I didn't pass. Ugh. Oh, well, I didn't figure I would, but it would have been nice. Here is where my home is "deficient:"

1. Swing arm of Rainbow Play Structure is attached to Tree Fort portion. A $4,000 safety hazard. Now, just look at the picture. Does that look like a deficiency to you?
2. Required postings were not posted. I had them laying out on cubbie shelf, though. I had sent the master to Wal*Mart for a bulletin board and he brought back a teeny tiny version. Um, baby, I've got to tack up 15 ginormous posters. But I set out the posters with the wrong size board right there, so obviously, I knew what had to be posted and where. But apparently a miss is a mile for the DPS.
3. No child locks on bathroom cabinets.
4. I have to keep diaper cremes locked up??!!
5. Tire swing rope "looks worn"??? It didn't to me. Last night four of the kids and two of the dachshunds were swinging on it as high and fast as it could go, and it did just fine, but I didn't bring that up to her. She probably would have cited it as serious safety violation--not to mention the contamination issues associated with children actually touching living creatures. I swear, if the state has their way, pretty soon our children will be taken from us at birth and zipped up in little plastic bubbles. They're safer that way, 'ya know.
6. No adhesive tape in first aid kit. Another one I can blame on hubby. I said, "I need adhesive tape for the first aid kit," and he brought me rug tape. For making sure your throw rugs don't slip. Mixed signals, I suppose. I also needed surgical gloves. He brought home dish washing gloves. The lesson here is never send your husband to the store when purchasing articles for a home daycare.

Instead of dismantling our children's dream backyard, we will stretch a chain link fence across a portion of it. A bare, lifeless, small, but very, very safe corner. I will take the daycare kids to this prison for one half hour every day and they will stand and look over the fence as the Israelites looked over the Jordan, and the state will say, "Well done!" I will go to Wal*Mart and make a few exchanges, and the master will install a few more child locks and we will be good to go.

I'm alive

Yep, I'm still around. I left the blog so long, friends were starting to e-mail--concerned for my health and well being. Health is o.k. Well being? Iffy. I know I've said this before, but things are crazy here. They're out of control at present. Where shall I begin?
The master (well, the whole family really), has been much involved with getting the vending machine business off and running. It takes alot of snacks to keep 13 vending machines filled!! We've added bi-weekly trips to Sam's and stocking time to our family schedule. The word has gotten out about our new venture and through friends of friends (you know how it goes) we've already added three locations to our business. Only problem is, we either have to buy some more machines or move some of our machines from a weaker location. Our smallest machines weigh 900 pounds! Rich Dad would say, "Expand." But our long held, Poor Dad mentality screams, "Wait and see before getting in any deeper." Fat and Lazy Dad says, "Don't you dare try to move one of those puppies. You could pull something!"
I hate to tell you this, because I promised I would NEVER, EVER do it again, but I'm trying the home childcare thing again. Have I ever told you I don't handle failure well (read "at all")? I decided I went about it all the wrong way. So I took a new tack and instead of registering as a home provider, I went straight to licensed home center. Which means that the state will be coming to do an inspection on my home within a matter of weeks. You think a homestudy is rough? You should see the minimum requirements law book for a state licensed childcare home. Yikes! I also have decided to do the Food Program, which means that the government will pay for all of the meals I serve (even the ones to my own children). The good news is that, because of the school district we are in, we qualify for the maximum amount of reimbursement, the bad news is more mountains of paperwork.
I have already started keeping one nine month old little boy. Guess what? He's a screamer. It' his third week here and he is still screaming the entire time he is not eating, sleeping or being rocked. And when I put him down and leave the room? Freak out city! I'm starting to remember why I said I would never do this again. Come Thursday/Friday, he starts to realize that this is a pretty cool place after all. He finds peace in that--while he isn't held non-stop--there is a predictable schedule to his day, lots of fun people, and cool things to see and explore. Then the parents (or worse, the grandparents) take him for the weekend, and we are right back to square one on Monday. People tell me all the time that they don't know how I do it with five. I don't how they do it with one! When all you do is carry your baby constantly, around the clock, they think they will not survive if they get put down. They can't do the things babies are supposed to do if they are on always on your hip! They need tummy time and crawling time. A chance to pull up and cruise. Opportunity to experience object permanence. Mommy/Caregiver goes away...Mommy/Caregiver comes back. Mothers of America--PUT THAT BABY DOWN!
We joined a church yesterday. The master is already installed as adult Sunday School teacher (they are in the middle of a building program and all of the adult classes are meeting together), and folks are calling him Bro. John. It is good to hear that name again. It sounds right. Of course, the master couldn't care less if the called him "Mud," just so long as they let him teach and preach.
In the midst of all this, we've had a crisis within the family. It is not our immediate household, so I won't post it on the blog, but it has been a gut-wrenching, extremely upsetting ordeal, nevertheless. Please keep us in your prayers.
O.K. ladies, I'm going to bust my all time record on groceries this month. Are you ready? $118.00!!! Is that wild applause I hear? I thought so. How'd I do it? I ordered through Angel Food Ministries. It is a non-denominational (though most of the distribution centers are in churches) grocery relief program. There are no income limits, no stupid classes, no personal questions, no strings at all. You just show up and pay your money and your meal packages arrive two weeks later. $25 dollars buys a grocery package meant to feed a family of four for a week. I ordered four units for my family of seven, so we'll see. I also bought the optional chicken pack. I think by adding our WIC allotment, we'll have enough for the month. Go check it out! It could save you PAPs a few hundred dollars a month. There is probably a distribution center near you. If not, ask your church to become one.