I'll Never Survive Summer

My kids no longer require sleep. It's bizarre. Everyone has really stuffy noses too, so I can hear them sniffling all night long, yet they don't sleep in and they don't nap and they don't go to bed at night.

I never left the house yesterday. I didn't wash my hair. The kids weren't sure what was going on, because we go somewhere every day. After spending so much time in my house, I've determined my house is a mess and it should be burned down.

The kids run from room to room to room and destroy stuff and it's like watching a constant train wreck.

"Let's dump all the robots out and play with them for 2 minutes."

"Let's get out yarn and the hole punch and glue and paper and scissors and 200 crayons and all the markers and let's play with that for 1 minute."

"Let's eat three bites out of each nectarine and leave it."

"Let's play paper dolls and make new clothes for them and cut a trillion tiny pieces of paper and leave them all over the floor."

"Let's take all the cushions off the couch and pile them in the corner."

"I know! Let's change our clothes AGAIN."

"Let's read and take every single book off the bookshelf."

"I want to play the computer. No I do. No I do. No I do."

"Let's get out our Dora house, our Little People house, our Barbie house and let's make a city where the Barbies play with the Little People, and c'mon in boys and bring the robots AND their cars."

"Let's add all the stuffed animals TOO!"

"Wait. Weren't we cutting stuff up? Let's leave this and go do that again!"

"Let's take out our tents and bring out all our play food."

"I'm hungry, let's rip open the side of the wheat thins and have them explode all over the floor."

"I know. I know. Let's poop in the toilet AGAIN and not flush it!!!!!"

No wonder my grandmother used to throw us outside in Phoenix when it was a 115 degrees out. I feel you, Grandma. I threw mine out yesterday two or three times.

All I know is that I'm never going to survive the summer. When do summer classes start again? Oh wait, when does SCHOOL START????? Was I all sad or something a couple days ago? I'm already over that!!!!

GoodBye, See You Never

The kids graduated AGAIN yesterday. Ms. Pat came. She has been battling stage 4 inflammatory breast cancer for years, and stopped teaching in January. But she was there and and it was great to see her.

Diplomas were handed out again. I have no idea why these pictures are all blurry. Maybe from me tearing up and fogging up the lens?


There was a lot of spontaneous hugging. The kids did not want to let Ms. Collette and Ms. Lori go. They love them SOOOOOOOO much.

Then I said goodbye to Stud Muffin's mom and it was sort of weird, because it was like, "Bye. See ya never." It's not like we hang out in the same circles. This is all so sad.

But I didn't have much time for crying, because I ran home with the kids to eat dinner. I thought ahead of time and had chicken and dumplings simmering on the stove. So we wolfed down dinner, and headed back to the gymnastics showcase.

We'll be seeing these kids again for sure. Misti's triplets and mine have been in gym together for 2 years now. I DO hang out in the triplet circle.

The Magic Gymnastics team performed and Sarah insisted on trying out for it next year. That would require I sacrifice days and weeks of my life for practice and rehearsals. Greg just shook his head, like NO. NO. Well, we'll see.

I got up at 4:50am to register the kids in summer classes so I can start this crazy schedule all over again in 2 weeks and THE COMPUTER WON'T LET ME IN.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
It may really and sincerely be, GOODBYE AND SEE YA NEVER. LET ME IN.

A Veterinarian, An Artist, And A Worker

The kids graduated from preschool yesterday with all the pomp and circumstance of a high school graduation. It was sooooo cute. They are the Class of 2022 for high school graduation, so Grammy said it was a good thing she got to see a graduation.

She'll only be 84 then! I hate to break it to her, but she has a few more of these to come.

The children sang to us, then each child walked across the stage and our center director announced what they wanted to be when they grow up.



Sarah wants to be a veterinarian. This is what her final report card said:

"Sarah is a great mother hen to the whole class. She is always willing to help whoever is in need of assistance. She is quite the reader and is progressing great. She puts together one mean and fun puppet show. She will soar next year in school."



Gregory said he wants to be a worker when he grows up. Just a worker. That cracked up the whole audience.

Then Sue The Director said, "Whatever you need done, call Gregory at 9am and he'll fix it."

Awwwwww. He wants to be like his Daddy. His report card said:

"Gregory has a smile that will melt your heart. He has become much more assertive in the classroom this year. He plays well with all of his classmates. Gregory, you are a great reader, so keep reading this summer. He will do great in kindergarten."



Amanda said she wants to be an artist when she grows up. Her report card said:

"Amanda is such a caring and sensitive child. She always wants to please everybody. She's come a long way in her paperwork and has laid some good foundations for school next year. She has a great imagination and tells the greatest stories."

I was really impressed by how well the teachers pegged each of the children. I think I was too hard on them this year. I have a feeling I might be too hard on every teacher they ever have. I have issues

I feel so sad that we aren't going to see the other parents anymore too. It just seems so weird that these people I talk to every day are just not going to be around anymore. It's not like we live near any of them, so we'll probably never see them again.

And my babies are growing up. I want to remember this stage forever. All I ever told myself is if I could just live until they went to kindergarten, I would be okay. Now it's here and I don't want them to go to kindergarten. I just want them to stay this age.

I am sooooooooooo glad they are only going to 2.5 hours of afternoon kindergarten next year. We still have a whole year of fun and adventures. They won't even have to be to school until 12:50 and we can do all sorts of fun stuff in the mornings.

Remind me about this when I'm pulling my hair out next week.

Now I get to do graduation all over again today, since their kindergarten prep class is a separate program than regular preschool. I wonder if I'll still have a veterinarian, an artist, and a worker?

Smile And Don't Pick Your Nose Or Butt

I realized yesterday morning that I had left my camera at Amanda's Mormon boyfriend, Stud Muffin's, house. We went to his birthday party after class on Tuesday, and met his whole family, and it was a blast and I really enjoyed it.

Losing my camera was only the beginning of my completely frazzled day yesterday, and I even made Greg participate and help me juggle kids, and I still couldn't get it right. Austin had his last day of class starting at 9:30. The girls had their ballet recital starting at 10:30, across the hall. Austin had his party starting at 11:00, the girls had a reception following their recital at 11:15, and the older three had gymnastic rehearsal starting at 11:30.

Are you following that? I was supposed to bring cookies to the ballet reception, and I hadn't gotten any end-of-the-year cards or presents for Austin's teachers when I woke up yesterday. So the girls and I dropped Austin off at school and zoomed over to Target to get gift cards, since I doubted our teachers really needed one more plaque from China saying, "World's Best Teacher" and would prefer CASH. I delegated buying cookies and entertaining Gregory to Greg.

Everything seemed to be coming together when Greg and Gregory showed up on time for the recital. Greg even had a camera AND a video camera.

He then barked out his standard pre-performance advice to the girls.

"Smile, and don't pick your nose or your butt. Do you understand me?"

Amanda didn't smile. She told me she gets stage fright.

I thought the girls did much better this year, but Greg whispered over that he'd never seen such a waste of money in his life.

Halfway through the performance, I could see parents going into Austin's room for his party. So I ran across the hall just in time to make a caterpillar out of pipe cleaners, while 24 kids, their parents, grandparents, and siblings were running around the room and talking, shouting, and screaming at the same time. CHAOS.

So then I ran back across the hall and told Greg that Austin really wanted him instead of me and Greg should go over there.

Then I helped the girls off the stage and helped them take off their tap shoes, and I made plates of goodies, and sat them next to Strip Club Barbie and her daughter. Strip Club Barbie's daughter has been in ballet class with my girls for two years now. She's the one who yelled "busted" at me when one of my girls came out of ballet class to use the restroom, after the teacher had asked us to take them ahead of time.

I ran back across the hall in time to watch Austin sing, grab Gregory, and then I ran back across the hall and made Gregory a plate and sat him down with his sisters.

"This is my sister, So and So.", Strip Club Barbie said as she tossed her waist-length platinum blond hair extensions over her shoulder, revealing her overflowing voluptuous bosom, protruding out of her skin-tight Bebe t-shirt.

"There are nine kids in our family. I'm number eight of nine and my sister So and So is number nine of nine.", she volunteered. "We're LDS."

Oh, C'MON!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I really am the only person going there who isn't Mormon!

"Are you active in the church now?" I asked, trying not to eyeball her big, gigantic boo boos.

"No, but I'm so glad I was raised that way with such good morals and stuff.", she answered with her smoky breath, while patting her illegitimate child on the back. "Mormons don't like me now. I don't know why."

With that she sipped down some of her venti Starbuck's, and knowing my kids were in good hands, I left them with her and ran back across the hall to join in herding Austin into the reception area for his party.

I'm so sad that Austin is done with his class this year. I just love his teachers, Ms. Teresa and Ms. Collette so much. Ms. Collette is Austin's teacher who has eleven children. Doesn't she look great? I would think a person with eleven children would look like a hunchback, and walk around with her uterus hanging out. That's how I look, and I only have four.

I ran back across the hall, collected my kids from Strip Club Barbie, told her to have a good life, so long, good-bye, and ran the girls to the bathroom to take off their tights for gym class, while Gregory complained that I had forgotten his gym clothes, and he wasn't going into class. Period.

I dropped the girls off in gym class, and ran out to the van with Gregory, in hopes that I had brought his gym clothes and left them in the car. I had. So I stripped him down in the car, ran back inside, dropped him off at gym with the girls, and then ran back down to Austin's class to take pictures.

Greg and Austin departed for home, then I ran back down to gym class, stopping at the bathroom on the way, while nodding to our neighbor, Patrick's Mother, who was there for his ballet recital. My girls have been taking ballet for 2 years, and Miss Eva slipped us a yellow note after class last week, letting me know they are ready for intermediate class. I noticed her slipping Patrick's dad the yellow slip last week after 4 classes!!!

And I know you aren't going to believe this, but I lost my keys somewhere in the middle of all that. I looked EVERYWHERE.

"How could you be so careless?", Greg yelled at me when I called him to come back and bring me our spare set.

I have no idea. I just don't have enough to do, that must be it. I must be too bored to keep track of them.

The kids graduate from preschool today. They graduate from kindergarten prep class and have their gymnastic performance on Friday. I'm going to try really, really hard to not be careless.

I'm also not going to pick my nose or my butt and I'm going to SMILE. I promise.

I Need A Clone

I'm sure this isn't going to happen a couple more dozen times in my life, but Austin's last day of school party, and the girls' ballet recital are at the EXACT same time.

And I've lost my camera.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

It Takes More Than The Village Idiot

In January of this year, a thirteen year old boy in Minnesota named, Danny Hauser, was diagnosed with stage II Hodgkins lymphoma, and his oncologist recommended he receive 6 rounds of chemotherapy to combat his illness. While nobody wishes cancer on anyone, if you are going to get cancer, Hodgkins lymphoma is one of the most curable cancers in existence, with over a 90 percent survival rate.

Despite the overwhelming odds of curing Danny's cancer, after only one chemotherapy round, Danny's mother, citing religious reasons and wanting to try alternative therapy, refused to get any more treatments.

The tumor shrunk significantly after that first conventional treatment, but that didn't stop Danny's mother from fleeing the state to prevent court-ordered treatments to resume, when a chest x-ray, last week, revealed that the alternative therapy was not working, and the tumor had grown and was threatening the boy's airways.

Depending what website you read, Danny is either illiterate because he's been homeschooled, or he's illiterate because he's learning disabled, or perhaps, he's learning disabled AND homeschooled. Either way, he's illiterate, so even though he's thirteen, he's incapable of reading anything pertaining to his illness and making an informed choice regarding his treatment.

I've read a lot of comments and blogs about this topic last night and it seems there are two schools of thought about this situation.

There's the "I Don't Want The Government To Tell Me How To Raise My Children" camp and there's the "Danny's Mother Is Medically Neglecting Her Child And Should Be In Prison" camp.

I, personally, think Danny's mother is medically neglecting her child. I think the government has a responsibility to protect children from people who are stupid, even if those stupid people are our parents.

I don't believe I OWN my children. I believe you own a dog or a cat. I believe I am my children's custodian, and if I am unable or unwilling to make the right decisions on their behalf, based on what society deems reasonable or sane, then I believe I should lose that right.

Will society always make the right decision regarding our most innocent members? No. But people in our society make the wrong decisions regarding their children every single day. Children are beaten and raped and neglected every single day by their parents or caregivers, and the government is held responsible for keeping them safe.

I'm a huge believer in natural remedies, but there is a place for conventional medicine. Not ALL conventional medicine is bad. If you can cure over 90 percent of people with Hodgkin's lymphoma with conventional chemotherapy, then you would be a fool to deny that treatment, and if you are denying that treatment for your child, then you are a criminal.

Danny's mother returned to Minnesota yesterday with her son. Let's hope he can resume his treatments and get the medical help he so desperately needs, even if it means throwing his mother in jail.

It takes a village to raise a child, not just the village idiot.

Sooooooooooooo, what school of thought are you in?

What's Better Than A Margarita Party?

I know. Ridiculous question. But the only thing better than a Margarita Party is having a new bestfriend.

Patrick is our long lost fifthlet. When he is with my four kids, he jumps right into the mix and you would think I just had five kids.

They aren't like this with all kids, so there's something about Patrick that makes them want to bring him right into their herd. He's the same age as Austin and if his parents send him to our public school, they'll be in the same class. Since we have so few children living in our actual neighborhood, it would be so great to actually have a neighborhood kid starting class with Austin.

Patrick's mother has been "yelling" at me for months now because she likes our elementary school. Patrick's older sister is special needs and they've done a great job with her at our school. So I keep hanging on to the hope that Patrick's mom is correct and it's a wonderful school.

I mentioned last night that it's so great that Austin will have a friend to start school with.

"Oh, we aren't sending Patrick there. He's going to the Christian school up the street."

"WHAT??? Oh, I see...... The school is good enough for MY kids, but not YOUR kid?"' I yelled at her in disbelief. If you only knew how much crap she's given me.

"If it's that important to you, GET A JOB and send them to private school.", she yelled back.

"Oh, okay. It will cost me over 500,000 dollars to send my four to private school for the next 12 years. If I'm going to WORK and earn half a million dollars, I sure as hell am not going to spend it on elementary education! Wouldn't it be wiser to spend that money on stuff like FOOD AND SHELTER?"

She's a lawyer, so it's okay to argue with her.

But then I cornered her husband to find out why Patrick won't be in with Austin and when she saw me she yelled over, "Get away from my husband, Michele. Don't let her talk you into sending Patrick to school with Austin!"

HA! I've got a year and a half to work on it.

How many Margarita Parties will it take to get Patrick in school with Austin?

Losing Is Now Called Cheating

The pool is up! Now the worst time of the year in the desert is the best time again. We are spending the weekend swimming.

Greg got this pool last year at the end of season for $2, or something. It is 16 feet across versus 12, which we had last year. It's a lot deeper too.

We filled it just to the intake for the water filter and it was still almost too deep for Austin to comfortably stand in. So I was really worried. Austin just learned to swim a few days ago.



I was going to make him go in with floaties or a life jacket. Then I forgot that he is amphibian boy and spends most of his time under water, walking around the bottom of the pool. Remember how he did that when was just under two years old? Here's that old video. I took that video the day before he was diagnosed with hydrocephalus and three days before we discovered he had a brain tumor.



I always thought he liked to go under water because he had so much pressure in his head from the hydrocephalus, and it probably gave him relief. But he still does it
He's so comfortable in the water and is joining in with the other kids and swimming all over. I just watch him really closely.

This is such a great age too. They make up their own games now. They have their own rules too. For instance, if Amanda is losing, she has decided that means everyone else is CHEATING.



She is just such a drama queen.

But the best part of this whole swimming thing?



Spontaneous coma-induced sleeping, which can happen wherever you might be sitting. We are back in business over here.

Greg Is Bacon

I think Greg brought home the swine flu. I cannot believe that we went to Disneyland and didn't get sick, and Greg comes home from Michigan and is as sick as a dog.

He's so sick, he hasn't even worked on the foreclosure house in two days. Greg NEVER gets sick like that.

Sarah came running into me just now saying her head is killing her. I had Austin in bed all night.

I don't have time for the swine flu. Next week, I have three graduations from preschool on three different days, one recital, and a gym performance.

If Greg gives us all swine flu, I'm going to turn him into bacon and go back to Disneyland where there aren't any germs.

My Girls Are Having An Identity Crisis

Remember the movie, Parent Trap, starring Lindsay Lohan as the adorable identical twin girls separated at birth because of their parent's divorce?



Remember how Lindsay Lohan used to be a wholesome freckle-faced little girl? Think way back. Back before she became a drug-addicted firecrotch.

Greg brought the movie home from I Don't Know Where, and the kids watched it a couple weeks ago. They are really interested in anything having to do with multiples, so I was explaining to them that the girls in the movie were identical twins, meaning they were born at the same time and looked the same.



"Are we identical????!!!!!!!!", Amanda demanded.

"No. You and Sarah look different. You were born at the same time, but you are fraternal. You look different. You aren't identical."

"YES WE ARE!!!!!", they both yelled at me.

So I tried a different strategy. My friend Misti has a set of identicals in her triplet group. A pair and a spare, as we call it. This picture is two years old, but Misti's trio is on the right.

So Mike and Matt are identical twins AND triplets. I know that shouldn't be confusing to a five year old at all.

"You know how Mikey and Matt look alike? THEY are identical."

"SO ARE WE!!!!", they insisted.

"But you don't look alike. So you aren't identical. Mikey and Matt are identical twins."

"I thought they were triplets like us?"

"They ARE triplets. But Mikey and Matt are identical TWINS."

"So we're identical twins too?", one of my twins, I mean triplets, asked.

This went on and on and on. I finally thought we had it all worked out.

Until later that day, I heard the girls talking in the shower.

"We both have noses. I have a nose and you have a nose. I have two eyes and you have two eyes. We both have hair.", Sarah was telling Amanda.

"So we're identical!!!!!", Amanda said.

Okay, so they're identical. My girls are having an identity crisis.

See what happens when you hang out with identicals?

Revelations

Did anyone catch the comment yesterday from Miranda? She grew up in an Assembly of God church and she faked talking in tongues too, just like my neighbor.

So that means two people in the last two weeks have told me this.

And all I could think about last night is WHAT IF MY GRANDMOTHER WAS FAKING TOO? Would she have done that? I just can hardly imagine it.

I am shell-shocked. Seriously. Call me naive, but I just thought there was something wrong with me that I was unable to accept the Holy Spirit. My entire world just turned upside down yesterday.

What if I was just NORMAL???????

Were people just pretending to fall down too? My sister, the agnostic, fell down when she accepted Jesus. She told me last night she FAINTED from FEAR.

Okay, I am just shocked over here. Is there anyone out there who really has spoken in tongues? This is your chance. Inquiring minds need to know. I am calling all Assembly of God members. Please, tell us what the deal is.

Meanwhile, everything I ever thought is just completely shaken. Is there no Santa Claus? Do people really fake orgasms?

I must be the most clueless person who ever lived.

Pam left a comment telling me to go take the Belief-O-Matic quiz to see what religion my beliefs most closely match yesterday at Beliefnet.com After my Mormon friend, Tara, said it told her she should be Mormon, I thought it would be a hoot to see what it said I should be, since it was clearly accurate.

So I took it and it said:

Reform Judaism.

So do I go find a temple? Do people fall down there?

Okay, I'm done talking about this for awhile. Whew. This is almost too much for me. I feel faint.

I've Always Been An Impostor

Remember when I said yesterday that I would someday write about my exposure to Christianity as a child? Well, turns out that someday is today.

Here it goes........

I spent the majority of my waking hours at my grandmother's house all of my childhood. My grandmother was a devout Pentecostal Christian and we attended an Assembly of God church from the time I was born. I spent every single weekend at my grandmother's until I was twelve years old, so I went to church every single Sunday.

I loved my grandmother so much. She was such a good, strong person. She loved me too. My fondest memory is of her wrapping me up in her arms in her bed under her electric blanket. I always slept with her. She was 70 years old the year I was born, but that didn't stop her from essentially raising me and my sister. We were literally spoiled rotten.

My grandmother read the Bible to us every day. She was especially fond of Revelations. Actually, I would say she was obsessed with Revelations. From my very earliest memories, she talked about Armageddon, the Antichrist, taking the mark of the beast, and the coming of the Lord.

We would watch the Evening News every single night and if anyone mentioned anything about Israel, my grandmother would gasp and proclaim the Lord was coming. She would talk endlessly about what we had to do to be prepared for the end of the world.

If anything was going on in the world that was bad, my grandmother would say the end was near. She was convinced that the time was very, very close.

As a child, I had almost constant anxiety about the Lord coming back. I would wake up every day and be sort of surprised that we were all still there. One night, I was so overcome with fear that I had sinned that day, I crawled into my grandmother's room and slept on the floor next to her bed. I was hoping when the Lord came, I would hear him taking my grandmother and I could grab on to her and get into Heaven anyway.

I always felt like an impostor at church.

In our church, people would take the Holy Spirit and fall down a lot. When they fell, sometimes their dresses would come up and show their slips and panty hose, so there were people who stood at the front of the church to cover their legs with blankets. Our pastor would lay his hands on people and then they would pass out.

I spent a great deal of time in church trying to stay as still as possible in hopes that nobody would notice me and touch me. I was scared a lot. I didn't want to pass out and I didn't want anyone to put a blanket on me. I always felt like I was standing outside and looking in at everything going on around me.

People spoke in tongues too. My grandmother and my Aunt Ellie spoke in tongues. My grandmother would tell me that someday I would speak in tongues, so I kept wondering when it would happen? Would I pass out too?

In our church, someone would suddenly stand up for no apparent reason during a service and start shouting in tongues. Then when they were done, someone else would come along and interpret their message from God. I never understood what anyone was saying, but it used to just completely freak me out. It especially freaked me out when my grandmother did it.

She'd be standing next to me one minute, with her arms raised up towards Heaven, then the next minute a different language would be spewing out of her.

I've always been really afraid of the Holy Spirit.

I recently found out that our neighbor's father is a Pentecostal pastor and she grew up in the same church environment I did.

She asked me a couple of weeks ago, "So did you like totally fake speaking in tongues?"

"Nooooooooooooooooo. Why, did you?"

"Uhhhh....YEEEAAAHHHH. Everyone does.", she told me.

Is that true? If you speak in tongues, would you tell me if you are faking anonymously?

I want to stop though and stress how great my childhood was at my grandmother's house. I'm only writing about a very small aspect of my overall childhood experience, so I don't want to make it seem like my grandmother was psychotic or anything. She truly had my best interests in her heart, and she did everything for me, and I am so grateful I had her.

So one day, something happened that made my grandmother believe I was ready to be born again. I can't remember exactly what happened to make my grandmother decide I was ready to be saved, but I'll never forget the moment it happened.

I was eight. She was so excited, she was overcome with joy. I really wanted to please her, because I loved her so much, so I went along with it. What do children want more than anything? They want to please the people they love.

We were kneeling in her bedroom and she asked me if I would accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior? I said, yes, and I waited for something to happen. I thought I might feel different. Then, nothing. Nothing happened, except I was really relieved that we had gotten that over with and maybe she would drop it? She had been talking about it and building it up for a really long time.

But rather than drop it, she made me go up in front of the whole entire church and announce that I had been saved the next Sunday. And I was certain I had the word IMPOSTOR tattooed on my forehead.

IMPOSTOR.

It was soooooooooo embarrassing for me, because what was wrong with me? Why was I different? What child wants to be different?

Then a few months later, she had us baptized in our pastor's pool. She told me beforehand that it was not unusual to go under the water and come up speaking tongues, as if to tell me to expect it.

So I was terrified. Would something possess my body and I wouldn't be in control of myself? But then maybe I'd get whatever everyone else had? So maybe it would be worth it?

I remember going under and coming up and then nothing. Nothing happened and my grandma was looking at me like I should be doing something.

IMPOSTOR.

I kept going to church, though, and I liked Sunday School. It was fun. I liked Bible stories and I was really good at memorizing verses. I met a girl named Haley and we started sitting by each other in big church.

The last time I ever went to church, we had a traveling Evangelist come to speak. I'll never forget it. I was twelve. He was screaming from the pulpit to the point he had froth coming out of the corners of his mouth, like a rabid animal. Then he started moving down into the congregation and coming in my direction. Everywhere he went, people were keeling over when he'd touch them.

My friend Haley whispered to me, "If he comes towards us, I'm going to kick him in the shin and you run."

I never ever went back. I remember driving home in the car and knowing I was never ever going to go back.

I broke my grandmother's heart. She died knowing I was going to hell. I've never really gotten over that, but honestly, I tried.

I did everything I was supposed to and it just didn't take.

Despite my own lack of spirit, I have known people with resounding faith in my life. My Aunt Ellie had the most pure and beautiful faith of anyone I've ever met. Someday I will write about the difference of having someone you love die with this sort of faith, opposed to having someone you love die without it. It's the difference between feeling such relief at their passing versus complete and total despair.

So that's where I'm at. I don't seem to have whatever it is that people have when they have faith. I think I was born like this.

But even though I lack faith, I am not opposed to fostering Amanda's spirituality in any way I can, because I think we are just all different when it comes to this. Obviously, I think, some people need and want religion or it wouldn't exist. If you are someone of absolute and true faith in a traditional religion, then you know what I'm talking about.

But I did just want to point out that if you are really religious, it's possible you will have a child like me. Just as I have a child like Amanda.

So I really don't know what I'm doing at all.

IMPOSTOR.

I'm just going to wing it and see what happens.

We Need Water

I loved all the comments yesterday. I love excellent debate and conversation and yesterday's comments were really interesting.

One of these days, I'll write a whole post about my exposure to Christianity as a child and we'll try to figure it all out. I've got some stories. Growing up Pentecostal will give you stories ----- and nightmares. So I think it would be interesting to delve into what a child perceives, and what was really going on during all of the touching people and falling down business, and speaking in tongues, and the screaming and yelling about going to hell. It was pretty creepy and intense and scary if you are a kid.

But not today. I don't have time for a post that long.

Austin started swimming yesterday in our neighbor's pool. He was so close when we were at Jodie's house, so I knew it wouldn't be long. Now all four kids can swim, which is a huge monumental relief. I wish I would have had my camera with me.

Now I've got to get them into some swimming lessons, because they have no form whatsoever. Is it bad to learn to swim and then try to teach form afterwards? Because I was never in swimming lessons and I'm a horrible swimmer.

I would really like it if the kids didn't look like they were drowning when they are swimming.

I would really like it if the kids didn't pretend like they were drowning too. Please tell me I am not the only person whose kids try to "rescue" each other all the time. I have told the story of the boy who cries wolf over and over AND OVER AND OVER.

Yet, they are constantly "drowning" and then someone has to rescue someone. Which is more than a little annoying, because when I see someone gurgling and yelping in the water, it freaks me out. I think they learned this game from their older cousins.

Now you go into time-out if you pretend like you are drowning.

But I have to say that this whole "learning how to swim" thing has gone down much the same as the whole "learning to read" thing, and the "learning to ride a bike" thing.

They just get it when they are ready. Exposure helps, obviously, but if they aren't physically or mentally ready, it ain't gonna work. The other thing, I think, but could be wrong about, is that putting floating devices on them hinders their ability to learn to swim. How are they going to learn to swim if they are floating? We never did swim vests or floating swimsuits or anything other than swim rings when they were babies because I couldn't hold them all, and they just learned to swim, and pretty early too.

Okay, Daddy is home and it's time to get our pool up. The absolutely worst part of living in the desert is the part before Greg puts the pool up. We absolutely cannot survive this heat without water.

Who Made God?

I sort of left out that I had a panic attack on the way home from Jodie's house in yesterday's post. I've determined that I was overdosing on caffeine. So when I was trying to navigate the freeways in Southern California by myself and the cover blew off the stroller, I sort of freaked out.

It actually felt like my heart was going to explode and I couldn't breathe. I retrieved the cover and got back on the road, but then I was really shaken and nervous and I didn't even want to stop to take the kids in the rest area. The thought of taking them into one more public restroom was almost more than I could take.

Greg is still in Michigan, so when we got home, I had to unload the van and feed the kids and I totally forgot that it's SO FREAKING HOT HERE. OMG! It was a 105 degrees yesterday. I forgot. So I was unloading the van and commanding the kids to help, when I finally sat down to catch my breath.

Amanda walked by and stopped and said, "Mom, why did God make me?"

And she meant it as why did God specifically make her?

Dr. Fisch made you in a petri dish, what are you talking about? (Okay, I didn't say that. )

"Because you are fantastic. He did a great job, didn't he?"

I totally, totally suck at these impromptu questions. I practically become retarded when my kids ask me stuff like this. That didn't even make sense, and now my kids are going to be stunted because I don't know how to answer questions.

Then as if that wasn't deep enough, she said, "If God made us, who made God?"

Are you kidding me? Whose child is this exactly?

"Uh......uh.......he's just there."

"How did he get there?"

"I don't know. He's just there."

How's that for brilliant? I. don't. know. Because I don't know. Do you? How did God get here? Who made God? If God made us, who made God? No wonder I dropped philosophy.

I never even thought of something so far-fetched until I was much, much older than FIVE, and it's not something I think about now, pretty much ever. I'm probably the least spiritual person ever, and now I have a child who is extremely spiritual and isn't that sort of bizarre? It never occurred to me that you are just born that way.

While Amanda continued pondering how the universe was created, I tried to figure out how to get an entire bag of raisins from Costco out of the carpeting of the van. Why would God make a bag that big? Why would Sarah rip it on the side and then hand it to Gregory, only to miss and have it spray all over the inside of the van? Why would they step on and ground in every single one when I let them out to pee at the rest area?

So help me out here. How would you answer a question like Amanda's? Who made God? And if you say nobody, because he's just there, then that isn't going to cut it with Amanada. So dig a little deeper.

I Am Dead Without An Audience

While I packed up and cleaned out the fifth wheel in Fred and Jodie's driveway (our bedroom), Uncle Fred, in a grand finale, filled the pool full of bubbles for the kids. Then he started a fire and roasted marshmallows.





I should take a moment to talk about Uncle Fred. Not only did he let the three Lucys stay at his house for four days with our seven children, treat us all to a wonderful dinner out, buy enough food to feed an army, he's also an opossum hunter.
Did you know Disneyland has an opossum problem? Me neither. But for every undesirable rodent, there's a society out there to protect it, let me tell you. They won't protect the ones from Uncle Fred though. Go get 'em, Freddie.

Really, though. Fred and Jodie went so far and beyond the call of duty to make our stay enjoyable, I cannot even begin to tell you.

Now I am home. Alone. My group of women friends and travel companions are called The Lucys, after our idol, Lucille Ball.

So now we are apart until someone else comes up with some hare-brained travel scheme.

Erika got us all matching purple shirts that said, "What Would Lucy Do?" for our trip. That was so perfect!!!

In the famous words of Lucille Ball:

"I'm a real ham. I love an audience. I work better with an audience. I am dead, in fact, without one."

Truer words were never spoken. I'm almost dead without my Lucys. Till next time girls.

At Least I Wasn't THAT Mom!

We went to California Adventure yesterday and it was so much better than Disneyland. For me anyway, because it's smaller and there is less walking and they serve alcohol there.



The whole Bug's Life area has six or seven kiddie rides and we parked the stroller and went on each of them.



The kids have watched The Bug's Life movie several thousand times, so they were totally into it. Watch Austin in this video.



They also have several areas with water features for kids in that area. If we had known about that, we would have brought swim suits. A lot people didn't know about it and there were a lot of really unhappy soggy kids. One kid in particular had made a mad dash for the water where he was so overcome with excitement that he pooped his underwear.

He was about five or six and his mother was yelling at his father, "Why did you let him in there? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know. He broke away and then he crapped himself."

That made my whole day. I knew no matter what happened to us, I wasn't going to be that kid's mother.



We went on the Soaring California ride with all the kiddos and Austin said, "Mommy, we were INSIDE the TV!"

So everything was going so well, until we stopped to eat dinner and Amanda mistook a packet of Tabasco sauce for table sugar. She squirted the whole thing in her mouth before we even knew what she was doing. At almost the same time, Sarah said her stomach hurt and she had diarrhea and she was going to throw up.

My friend Erika helped me clean up Austin when he had his little explosion at Disneyland and then she woke up and was throwing up yesterday morning. Then Sarah was clutching her stomach and saying she was going to throw up. Was it a virus and now everyone was going to start spewing? How was I going to get back to the car?

Meanwhile, Amanda had an entire stomach full of Tabasco.

I made the executive decision to go home. Which is something you just have to do when you have a thousand children. Your life is about compromising. Plus, we'd been there for 8 hours already. Leslie wanted to stay until closing at 10pm and Emma Rose doesn't require much sleep for a five year old, but I knew that would be a recipe for disaster for my bunch and for ME. Must. save. self.

So we left at 7:30 and there wasn't a single person in line for the tram. We got right on and got right home and the kids swam in the jacuzzi and I had them all in bed and alsleep by 8:45pm. Which was so much better than waiting until closing and getting caught in a wave of humans and having to walk back to the parking garage and getting stuck in traffic for an hour and a half. Oh my, last night was so much better.

I was putting the hitch back on the car and hoisting the stroller on it to strap it down and one of the girls said, "Mommy, you are soooooo strong."

Then Gregory asked me if he could help me. He was concerned for me!!!!

Then when I was putting them to sleep last night, Amanda said, "The hot sauce is in my body and my bones are a roller coaster for the hot sauce."

Then they told me every single ride they went on and which was their favorites and I know they had the best time ever. I don't think they'll ever know that I almost died trying to show them a normal childhood.

I'll try to remind them when they have their own kids someday.

"Oh, puhleeze. I took you everywhere by myself so you can do it!!"

Mary Poppins Is My BFF

We drove to the beach at Balboa Island yesterday and right when we saw the ocean and the sailboats, Gregory said, "Oh, Mom, I love Auntie Jodie. She knows where everything is."


Gregory knows. Auntie Jodie is the best! You can't believe how good she is with kids. It's like being bestfriends with Mary Poppins. Have you ever met someone who just knows how to speak to children in a way that puts them into a trance? That's Auntie Jodie.

The kids got to go on a ferry, which is pretty exciting when you are 3, 3, 5, 5, 5 and 7.

Gregory, Amanda, and Austin got to see the ocean for the first time. It was a little scary for me because the waves were gigantic and I thought for certain I might lose one to the sea.

Having four little kids is a cause for near constant anxiety. Are you feeling me?

They played and played and played in the sand, then all seven kids fell asleep on the way home and took a nap.

Then we left our kids with Jodie's eighteen year old daughter and her friend and we went out to dinner and had prime rib and WOW, we left our seven kids!!!! That's only the third time since mine were born that they've ever been with a babysitter for the evening.

It was truly a great day, unlike my day at Dismal land. We are going to California Adventure tomorrow. I can't imagine how FUN that's going to be. Why don't they pass out beers at the entrance? Or Xanax?

What Would Lucy Do?

We loaded the kids up yesterday morning for our drive over to Disneyland.
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It's the happiest place on Earth.

Here's our gang. The three "extra" kids are Emma Rose, Caity, and Jackson.

It went pretty well and I'm so thankful I had them contained. Even though it meant I was pushing over 120 pounds, up and down hills. I weigh 123 pounds. Or I did. I think I might weigh 115 now. I'm hurting today.

The kids had a blast. The only incident where we had a freak-out is when Austin wouldn't get on the roller coaster in Toon Town. He absolutely went insane and I had to wave goodbye to the other three. He went on it last year, but he doesn,t remember it. He actually held his hands up last year. The other kids had a blast and told me they wanted to do it three more times.

They really loved the Small World and the Disney train and Dumbo.

Mostly though, I spent the day taking people to the bathroom. We just go to Disney to see the bathrooms.

The most amazing thing happened when I was there too. I heard someone say, "MICHELE! Hey! I read your blog! It's Erika!"

Can you imagine? I ran into someone who reads my blog! That was so cool. Erika is 9 months pregnant. Doesn't she look fantastic? You should read her blog.

So we stayed until closing and went on the submarine right before the park closed. Austin was a little afraid of it too. Then right after it started, he clutched his penis and started crying that he had to pee and he had told me earlier that his tummy hurt. He was jumping around he couldn't hold it.

I got up to grab him and didn't realize the seats flip up and I fell on the floor and scratched up my whole back.

I thought I was going to have to let him pee on the floor. What would I do? Then I thought, "What would Lucy do?"

So I grabbed an empty coke bottle I had in my backpack and shoved his penis in it and told him to pee. And he did. Whew.

On the way back, I couldn't get the stroller on the shuttle. They were making strollers wait for wheelchairs and the line was really long. So I let the kids go with Jodie and I walked the mile back to the parking garage with Gregory.

When we all finally got back togther, Austin was holding his front and his back
so I grabbed him and took him to a pole to pee. Then it was like there was an explosion and I was covered with diarrhea, all over my legs, shoes, feet, clothes.

OH MY GOD!!!!!

Anyway, I got him cleaned up and somehow we made it back home and I got all the kids showered and in bed and then I sort of couldn't walk anymore.

I'm pretty sure I won't remember any of that next year though, because I'm only forty years old.

Please Come In Unless You're A Burglar

We are staying at Auntie Jodie's in Disneyland. If you can find a friend who lives a block away from Disneyland, I highly recommend it. Especially if your friend has this sticky note on their front door.



Isn't that hilarious? Just come on in! So we did.

Oh, my goodness, the accommodations.


Is that our friend Caity from Portland? Auntie Jodie's house is a worldwide destination. You can also pick oranges while in Orange County.

And eat them in the outdoor bar, which is where I spent my evening.
Okay, next stop is Disneyland, where I expect to not have to wait in line since I have a triplet stroller and am very important. Stay tuned for my next very important post.