it's the great pumpkin, charlie brown

My true calling in life is to be a pumpkin farmer.  Look at how my darling has taken over the garden.  I'm so proud of it.  I shouldn't count my pumpkins before they're carved, but I think we're going to have four come fall.

And here's a yellow squash.  It's the only thing we've been able to eat from the garden so far, unless you count the spinach.  We got about five leaves of that before the wildlife and the heat took the rest.  One good thing about the heat: I think it killed a chipmunk yesterday.  We gave it a burial and Damon accused me of being happy it was dead.  I wasn't glad it suffered, though.  I'm not a monster.

moving out

Pet peeve: when a child of mine tells me or anyone else, "Then I don't like you anymore!"

Ignoring this phrase to make it go away has not been working, so on Monday I washed Anne's mouth with soap.  She packed some supplies and moved out.  I took some pictures when she wasn't looking.  Here she is digging a hole for her tent pole.

 Here's her Teddy bear, either tied to a tree for security purposes or being hanged.

Here's the tent, completed with a sheet and Damon's help.

It was a hot and humid day.  After a few minutes Anne got "tired and bored" and moved back in.  I haven't heard "Then I don't like you anymore" since.

Fancy Nancy

This is Fancy Nancy.  She loves all things fancy and all things French.  Anne hates her. She tells me that every time she has me read a Fancy Nancy book to her.  Claire told me today (I don't know what prompted this--we weren't talking about Fancy Nancy or anyone we hated) that if you hate someone because they have something you really want, it's called jealousy. 

Last week, Anne told me she wanted to learn to speak French.  Damon immediately said, "I don't want to learn to speak French.  No one speaks French except people who want to be fancy."

That's probably true.  Unless French is your native language...

BUT, any time a kid wants to learn something, you should jump on it, according to my superhuman friends who home school.  And Jake has some French language courses from when he worked at PowerGlide in Provo, so I dug them out and we're off.  We've mastered "Parlay voo onglay?" and "oui" (pronounced 'we'--it means yes) in only three days.  I think we're off to a good start.

eating crow

I wish I would have kept to my resolution to take the high road.  A few days ago I mentioned that the school was thwarting us at every turn in Claire's therapy.  That's not true.  Claire's best friend, one of the girls I requested to be in her class next year, is in her class next year!  I was so happy when I found that out from the little girl's mom I almost cried.  Thank you, non-confrontational part of my personality, for keeping me from sending an angry e-mail to the powers that be last week.

It's fun to swim at the YMCA

I thought I was going to be a daily blogger for a few days there, but it turns out I only blog when I'm avoiding something I don't like and that can be put off.  Right now I'm avoiding making a grocery list and going shopping.

Last week was the beginning of summer break.  I bought a YMCA membership and the kids and I swam there a lot last week.  Damon and Anne and I enjoyed it.  Claire is still terrified of the water, even after 10 days of private lessons last summer.  At the Y I strapped plenty of floaties on her, more than Anne had on even.  Anne paddled all around having a great time.  I tried to convince Claire she could do that, too.  She screamed, cried, sobbed "You're torturing me!", and clung to my body or swimsuit like, well, like a drowning person.  (Don't worry--my swimsuit is very sturdy.  Not one of those flimsy things girls wear to showcase their hot bods.  No matter how hard Claire pulled, she'd never be able to expose anything.)  A swim instructor was so concerned she left her class of little kids to give me some tips on how to acclimate Claire to the water.  Sigh.  We're gonna keep trying, though.

Once we're out of the pool, though, Claire really shines.  The girls and I go in the women's locker room to shower and change.  Damon goes in the men's locker room where I hope he rinses off, and then he waits for us, dripping, in the hall.  He WILL NOT change in the locker room.  People would see him naked.  I remember how horrified I was when my PE teacher made us shower in the high school locker room, so I try not to make a big deal out of his shyness.  Even Anne hates getting dressed in the locker room.  She somehow manages to shove herself in a locker (maybe 8"x18"x8" small) and get dressed in there.  It's amazing.  But Claire and I are able to get dressed like normal people.  Claire's an interesting mix.  At the kindergarten program two weeks ago she was very nervous to have everyone looking at her.  She kept turning away from the audience to shelter herself.  But in the locker room she doesn't worry about it, and at the pool, she's not bothered a bit by everyone staring while she screams her head off.

state of being

Damon, AKA mini-Jake: likes money, especially saving it.  Worries about inflation, and believes the government should not allow it.  Sometimes asks if I've paid the credit card bill yet.  Gets upset if he doesn't get to bed early when he has to get up early the next morning.  Master Chung calls him a serious student of Tae Kwon Do, and believes he has the potential to be a black belt some day.

Claire: has a hard time going to sleep before 10 p.m. if I don't give her melatonin, unless she has had a lot of exercise.  Getting her to exercise a lot is difficult.  Is "excited and nervous" for 1st grade. (She met her 1st grade teacher and classmates last week.  From what I can pump out of her, none of the kids I requested are in her class.  I can't get a class list so she can start making friends over the summer because that is illegal.  I swear the school admin's primary goal is to thwart us at every turn.  %#&*@!)

Anne: says she doesn't sleep at night, but does an excellent job lying motionlessly and noiselessly in bed from 9 pm to 7 am with her eyes closed.  Really wants a cat for a pet.  Finally lets me listen to whatever music I want in the van.  We went through a rough patch where songs had to be "wild."
Wild= The Cars, J. Geils Band, Bon Jovi, John Cougar Mellencamp (sp?), The Beatles, The Police, Mad Outlet, anyone with a heavy beat and questionable lyrics. (I like some of their music, too, but I don't allow songs like "Angel in the Centerfold" in my car, which broke Anne's heart.)
Not Wild= Adele, Jimmy Buffett, most classical music.  If she grows up to be a porn star, it won't be my fault.  If she grows up to be a tattooed alcoholic searchin' for her lost shaker of salt, heck, it could be my fault.

a drop in the bucket

"(yawn) I'm tired," I said, getting into the van.  We had been grocery shopping.

"You can't fall asleep in the car," said Anne.  "You could wreck and have to go to jail."

"Anne," said Claire, "Even if mom goes to jail, there will still be plenty of other ladies in the world."