I'm Nearly Normal

I was off my game yesterday and lost the battle. I started feeling nauseous on Monday night and when I woke up yesterday morning, I was unable to do anything. Greg had too much going on to help me, so I had no choice but to let the kids fend for themselves.

I was so sick, I had PBS on until almost 10am before I realized it was in Spanish.

At one point, I heard the kids in the kitchen and thought they were getting a snack. I was able to get up and check on them, when I discovered they had taken an entire loaf of bread, the chocolate chips, an entire container of honey, lettuce, and my friend Laura's homegrown tomatoes, and made sandwiches for the garbage men.

The kids have learned from their father that you must "grease"the garbage men, which Greg does on a regular basis to take things like entire trees and used hot water heaters and who knows what else. I try not to get involved in these transactions, but the kids like to make sure our sanitation workers are fed and watered.

Unfortunately, our trash pickup is on Tuesdays and Fridays, not on Mondays. So I did what any deathly ill mother would do. I threatened them with bodily harm when their father discovered they wasted an entire loaf of bread. So rather than risk the Wrath of Dad, they ate the sandwiches.

Put those on your menu.

I went and laid down again and tried to convince the kids to watch PBS in English, but they weren't interested. I think I may have dozed off.

I discovered yesterday that my kids are much more creative without me, than with me. While I convalesced, Sarah and Amanda got out all my felt, then hooked them all together with stickers and bamboo shish-ka-bob skewers.

Amanda taped her library books to the window and traced My Little Pony on to paper and then colored them.

Gregory and Austin took a UPS box and made it into a dog house, complete with felt carpeting.

My house is in shambles. It's THAT bad.

The only good thing that came out of yesteday, besides knowing my kids can entertain themselves at the risk of my flooring, is my phone informed me, while I was laying on the couch, that UPS had dropped off a box.

Inside was four pounds of gluten free flour my friend Helene had sent me to try out. Buying gluten free flour is super expensive, so I've been thinking about getting a 50 pound bag to offset the cost. But I didn't want to invest that kind of money in a flour I wouldn't be happy with, and so far, I haven't been that thrilled with the gluten free stuff I'd been using.

Helene emailed me back and said she has her own flour co-op, and she sent me four pounds to try out of Jules Nearly Normal Gluten Free Flour.

Of course, Greg walked in right as I was inspecting my new item and said, "What did you order now? Cocaine?", right before he said, "What in the hell happened to this house?"

Amazingly, I started feeling better immediately and made chocolate chip cookies, which was a staple in our house before I stopped eating gluten.

The kids literally ate every single cookie in less than five minutes. They were a HIT! I'm really impressed with the lack of aftertaste. This flour has almost no taste of tapioca flour at all.

The cookies had a good flavor. They did seem to crumble more than regular flour, but that could have been because they weren't completely cooled when we devoured them. I am very pleased with the flour. I'm going to try pancakes tomorrow and see how that works out. This flour comes completely ready to use. You don't have to add any xantham gum to your baked goods.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but it must have been a 24 hour thing, because I'm okay today. I'm Nearly Normal again.

How Many Rules Can We Break In July?

After discovering we might get fined for lacking small bushes in our rental property front yard, Greg flew over to the Communist Community, where our house is located, with his truck and a shovel....



where he replaced the small bush with a big tree.

"Do you have the rules anywhere, so I can check to see if this is a regulation tree?", I asked.

They wanted $300 for a copy of the CC&Rs at closing, so Greg told them to forget it.

Oh, okay. So until we reach $300 in fines, we're even. But that seems like extortion. How much can copies really cost?

In other news, I talked to Greg's mom yesterday and she bought the condo. They took 10 thousand less than the asking price. I spent two hours trying to figure out if she got taken, and I think she got a good deal. I don't think she can lose money on it. Even the property taxes are reasonable for Michigan.

So she wants us there on the 15th of July for the closing. Greg needs to help her get it furnished and we are going to stay in it for a week or so. It's a two bedroom, 1 bath and her association only allows 3 residents in a 2 bedroom, and 4 residents in a three bedroom. So we couldn't even live there if we wanted to.

But we'll get her off on the right foot there, I'M SURE.

I'm thinking we need to be out of here by 07/10th to get there on time.

Can we do it this year without the septic backing up or the SWAT team arriving because Greg is walking down the street with semi-automatic rifles?

We shall see. I wonder how many Compliance Letters we'll get while we're gone. I wonder how many Greg's mom will get when we're there? Just how many HOAs can we make mad in the month of July?

I could be wrong, but I'm thinking that having oodles and oodles of kids and HOAs just don't mesh.

The Ped Egg Ruined My Life

Remember when I complained about my nasty heel skin and you guys were all, "Go get the Ped Egg???!!!!!

Well that was in March. The day after I wrote about it, thanking you for the hot tip, I cheese grated off my entire heel and it's been split and bleeding ever since. It will heal just enough to where I think it's going to FINALLY be gone forever, and then I'll do something stupid, like WALK, and it will split wide open again.

Sometimes it will split so deeply and be so painful, I will walk around on my tip toes just from the intense pain.

The Ped Egg ruined my life.

Sure. Maybe I got a little overzealous with watching the dead skin come off like parmesan cheese, but this is not a tool for people like me. It's dangerous in the wrong hands.

I cannot use it again or may end up in a wheelchair.

Not one to waste $10, I've found a new use for it.

Spaghetti anyone?

Having Rules Really Sucks

We get our mail at a P.O. Box for reasons that escape me, except Greg is all undercover and always has been. I never go get the mail, because it's against the law in Nevada to leave your children unattended in a vehicle for any reason.

So to get the mail, I have to take all four kids in with me. It takes 20 seconds to get it, which isn't really long enough if I have to bring them in, because we walk in, and then walk out, and they are like, "I don't want to get back in the car ALREADY."

I only get the mail about twice a month.

Yesterday, I dropped them off at their art/game/cooking class and flew to the P.O. Box, and found that we had three notices from our new homeowner's association on the first house we bought and rented a couple months ago.

First, I should say we have never, in all of our lives, lived in a home with a homeowner's association. We live in a world without rules, except the one where I can't check the mail without all my children.

Sure, we have to put up with this and this, but nobody was mad at us when we had two motorhomes in our driveway for two years, or when Greg came home with a front end loader and accidentally hit the electrical lines and blew the transformer in our backyard, which knocked out all the electricity to our neighbors.

It's a carefree life. It's why we have three swingsets and five slides, a trampoline, and why are house is known as the Daycare House.

So when I opened the three letters and discovered they were Compliance Notices because we are breaking the rules, I was sort of dumbfounded. What rules?

Greg cleaned that whole place up. What could be wrong?

When he cleaned up the property, he had removed a very small hedge. It was about 1.5 feet tall. I have weeds in my garden that are bigger. It was dead, so Greg ripped it out. The front "yard" is like 5ft by 5ft, so he didn't replace it because the other sage bush is so big, it's engulfed the small space.



But we're breaking the RULES. See? The association manager came by and actually noticed that the little itty bitty dead plant was gone.



And look, we got a second Compliance Letter because there is another mystery bush gone.

GASP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why didn't you guys warn me about this stuff?

Our third Compliance Letter was because our tenant parked in the driveway with his tires on the rocks.



Look at that would you? How COULD HE? Did he think he lived in AMERICA? FOOL!

If I was the association manager, I would have sent us a letter because his truck has a different colored hood. Talk about an eyesore.

When Greg got home, I asked him, "Did you really rent our house to a guy with an ugly truck?"

So we had ten days to get new plants in our front yard or get fined. Since I never check the mail, that was yesterday.

I may have to run for the association board. Why not? I'm sure they LOVE us absentee landlords.

How do you guys manage having someone telling you what to do all the time? Doesn't it just SUCK?

Wait till we start getting stuff on the second house. Greg replaced all the windows with different sizes and never even talked to anyone about it.

We're going to lose all our money. I can see it now.

Being A Stay-At-Home Mom Can Be THAT Boring

I was so bored yesterday, I could have beaten my own skull against the wall for entertainment. So when my sister called and told me that TMZ was reporting that Michael Jackson had died, it was pretty much the most exciting thing I'd heard all day. Who is winning in Candyland will only take you so far.

On a scale of 1 to 1,000,000, the importance of Michael Jackon in my life was like maybe a 4, and that's because I can moonwalk.

But sitting at home can be so mind-numbingly boring that I spent the better part of 30 minutes trying to break the news to people.

Ring. Ring.

"No way. OMG. Michael Jackson's dead."

"I already know."

Damn it.

Despite my vast network of phone, texting, and email buddies, and the fact he was only dead for 29 seconds and no major news networks had even confirmed it, I could not break the news to ANYONE.

Yawn.

Seriously, I cannot even explain how bored I was yesterday.

So I grabbed a hold of some family gossip over who is the favored child in my father's family. My father has four siblings who were taught by their parents to compete with each other for love.

Have you ever read the book Siblings Without Rivalry?

If you took all the information and recommendations in that book to foster genuinely loving sibling relationships, void of jealousy, competition, and delight over each other's failings, and then you completely disregarded that and did the exact opposite, and made your children compete with each other to be your favorite and in your good graces, that would be my father's family.

On a scale of 1 to 1,000,000, the importance of this in my life today would be probably a two, maybe a three.

Yet, I grabbed a hold of the latest news of who is loved more like it was a lifeline out of the abyss of domestic tedium. The alternative was sweeping the kitchen floor yet again, or trying to figure out who I hadn't called to inform that Michael Jackson was dead.

From what I can tell, my father has wrangled in to be the number one child du jour.

How delightful!!!!

Sadly, I couldn't even discuss any of this with the children, because they haven't a clue who Michael Jackson OR my father is. Although I might have been able to explain Michael Jackson more easily.

"Once upon a time, there was a man who could sing and dance. Then he was abducted by aliens and started sleeping with little boys, so he became a super creepy recluse, but all these shows today are depicting him as the greatest icon who ever lived, so this story must be fiction, which means make-believe. The End."

Yawn.

Is this how you know it's time to get a job again? Because I am soooooo bored, I'm going to see if I can still moonwalk.

I See A Roadtrip Coming

The girls have been packing suitcases to go to Michigan. Which means that I have bags and purses and backpacks filled with their clothes, Barbies, horses, crayons, hairbands, etc. You know, the necessities.

We have no actual plans to go to Michigan yet. I figured we'd possibly go around the middle of July, once Austin got his next MRI to check on his brain tumor.

I finally got the referral to get his MRI and called to make an appointment yesterday and they told me their next opening is August 17th. Thank God this isn't an emergency situation. Isn't that ridiculous?

But that opens up the whole summer.

Greg's mom left on June 17th, the saddest day of the year, and went back to Traverse City to spend the summer.

So the girls have been packing suitcases to get to Grammy. Which is so cute, except I have to unpack them all and sort everything back to where it belongs, which has been driving me crazy.

Grammy has been renting a place in Michigan for the past few summers. She called yesterday and said she put an offer on a condo and she might have it right away. But she is already obligated to continue renting the place she's in, so that means there will be a perfectly empty condo sitting in Traverse City, with Greg's name written all over it. Free Lodging.

But that also means she's going to be gone a lot more of the year, because she'll have a second home, and I'm fairly certain instead of coming back here in August like she normally does, she'll stay for the changing of the seasons.

Which means the girls will keep packing suitcases to get to her.

And I'll have to keep emptying them.

And Greg will know he can go stay with his mom anytime he wants. Free Lodging.

Good grief, I may have to buy a second condo next to hers to get this all back on track. I checked the school zoned for her condo and it's rated a 9 at greatschools.net. Maybe we'll just move there.

You can run, Grammy. But you can't hide.

I see a roadtrip coming.

***************************************************

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What Are You Telling Your Kids About The Recession?

For participating in the public library's summer reading program, we got four free tickets to the Lied's Discovery Museum, which is featuring the exhibit, Grossology.

So we went downtown to check it out, and the kids learned everything gross about the human body, like vomit, burps, flatulence, boogers, etc.

They got to climb a wall of skin blemishes and learn about moles, warts, skin tags, and pimples.

I have delicate sensibilities which are not even compatible with having four children, five and under, so I was slightly nauseous by the whole theme, but the kids seemed to enjoy it.

What struck me even more than the disgusting exhibit, was how bad things have gotten downtown since I was last there. There has always been homeless around the Lied Discovery Museum because of it's proximity to some large charities, but the sheer number this time was startling. The building that houses the museum is also a library, which has become like a makeshift shelter. The parking lot was teeming with homeless men and security guards. The library has a designated spot for them to gather now and watch television.

I spent almost a decade dealing with the homeless when we owned our insurance agency, since we were adjacent to a park where they lived, and we spent day after day after day trying to live in peace and harmony with people who defecated on our doorstep and panhandled our clients and left trash with needles and bottles in front of our entrance, so it was quite shocking to see how the face of the homeless has changed.

I have to wonder how many have become homeless now because of the recession? They didn't have the typical mentally ill, drug addict homeless look for the most part. How many have lost their jobs and just have no where to go?

The kids have started watching the evening news with me, and we have been having an open dialogue about the recession and it's impact on families in America, along with other current event topics. We watched a very poignant piece about children of the recession last week and how many families are going without food. We talked about it in very simple terms, and they get it.

So when we saw all the homeless at the museum, I was able to reference back to the talk we had before about the recession, and people losing their jobs and homes, and put what they were seeing into a context I think they understood.

I'm curious if you are talking to your kids about it? If you are personally impacted by the recession, how are you explaining it to your kids? If you aren't personally effected, are you talking about it?

It seems like it's too important to skip for this next generation and I don't want to miss the significance.

I could totally skip the vomit, burps, and flatulence though. They don't need to know about that stuff ever. Yuck.

When Your Friends Come For Vacation

We spent 7 hours hanging out at the Cancun pool yesterday, where we broke in, (Greg reached over the gate and opened it), to meet more friends visiting from Michigan. The Cancun you ask? Is that a casino? No. It's a timeshare with it's own replica of a Mayan pyramid at the pool.

So you go up the stairs in the middle of the Mayan "ruins" and go down the slides into the pool.


Can you imagine how confused these kids will be if we ever start traveling abroad and they start seeing some of the REAL versions of the cheesy Las Vegas replicas?


Wait. Mom. Where's the eyeliner on the Sphinx? What do you mean there isn't a roller coaster around the Manhattan skyline?

They had an absolute blast on the slides though. We had an absolute blast with our friends. The two girls there were both named Michele, with one L. They went to college with Greg.

"If I went into the cafeteria alone and I saw Greg there with the other football players, I used to be afraid.", one of the Micheles told me.

Greg eating? It's scary. Trust me.


We were there five minutes and Amanda had a boyfriend. That's the two lovebirds on the raft, with Gregory, their chaperone. I'm fairly certain the poor kid would have taken a bullet for her, and I heard him almost crying when his father said it was time to go.

Note to self: I'm making a list. So far Amanda likes Mormon boys and older Asian dudes. CHECK. Keep her away from them. I wonder how long this list is going to get?

We have our original Michigan friends making a comeback from a short jaunt to Southern California today. Which means more pool time.

If we ever move away from Vegas, we will die of boredom. I'm almost sure of it. When you live here, everyone you ever knew in your life will come and visit and look you up. Do you live in a tourist trap? Do you see your friends and family all the time?

Greg's famous words when we are out with people here in town?

"We're not actually on vacation, Michele. You aren't getting that $32 martini."

I Love You Because You Take Me To The Dump

I know you thought it was Father's Day yesterday, and it was, but it was also Halloween here because our pumpkins are ripe.

When it wasn't pumpkin decorating time, the children picked out and gave their own gifts to Greg for Father's Day. They got him a flashlight, bungee cords, a measuring tape, and a CD of Country Wedding Songs.

Do they know their father, or what?

Then we did our annual list of what they love about their father.

Gregory's five reasons for loving his Daddy.

1. Takes me to the dump.

2. Takes me to the store.

3. Puts the pool up.

4. Takes me to the park.

5. We work on the house together.

Sarah's reasons.

1. He helps me get back on my bike.

2. If I get hurt, Daddy helps me.

3. Throws me in the pool.

4. When Daddy hugs me goodnight.

5. Takes me to Michigan.

Austin's reasons.

1. Takes me to the dump.

2. You call me Pumpkin Pie.

3. Takes me to the park.

4. Watches TV with me.

5. Jumps me in the pool.

Amanda's reasons.

1. He takes me to a restaurant.

2. He checks my batteries. (Okay, this is where he tries to rip a pretend battery out of their backs. You kinda have to be here to get this one.)

3. When Daddy buys me new clothes.

4. Takes me to Sam's Club.

5. I like when Daddy smooshes me when he hugs me goodnight.

Can you imagine how much they would be missing if they didn't have a father? I can pretty much guarantee you with a hundred percent certainty, if they only had me as their parent, the highlight of the boys' year would not have been a trip to the dump.

Thank God for fathers. The world wouldn't be the same without them.

Can You Identify This Smell?

It's taken me several days to write about the FDA recommending we halt using Zicam in our noses, due to 130 cases of people claiming they lost their sense of smell.

Do you know how much Zicam I've shoved up my children's noses?

In the split second between watching the broadcast about Zicam and my brain registering what they were saying, I was suddenly hit with the epiphany that maybe my children don't flush their poop down the toilet, because THEY CAN'T SMELL IT.

It was like all the world suddenly went spinning out of control, and I grabbed each of them one by one and made them cover their eyes and identify the spice I held under their nose.

Cinnamon.

Cinnamon.

Cinnamon.

Toast. That was Amanda, so that was close enough.

Whew. They can all smell.

Which means they should be able to identify the big giant brown lumps in the toilet as POOP.

Back to the drawing board on this problem, and I can't even sue anyone about it.

I AM An Overscheduler

I went overboard and signed the kids up for two classes on Fridays.

They all four go to their art/game/cooking class from 9-10:30. Then the older three go to a kindergarten prep class from 11-1.

That's the longest they've ever done anything before and when I picked them up Friday, they were EXHAUSTED. Yet, there are kids in there their age who are in camp from 7am to 6pm. I just don't know how they do it! Do they just adapt?

The girls hung out with their friend Lily and, again, insisted they join the Magic Gymnastic team this fall. I asked Lily's mother about it and asked if it took a tremendous amount of time?

She said it wasn't bad, you just have mandatory practice twice a week and mandatory performances on two Saturdays a month for 7 MONTHS.

That sounds expensive and dreadful. There are kids who have been doing it since they were three, but I don't think mine would be ready for that kind of a commitment, given the fact they are starting school and have to be somewhere 5 days a week in the fall already.

Plus, I'd really like to try a sport at some point here in the future. We really haven't tried sports yet. What should we try first? Soccer? T-ball? Basketball? Tackle football?

How do I even find sports leagues? My parents never put us in anything, so I'm just clueless.

We've been back at the community center for a week and have already had one bout of diarrhea and now I've got runny noses going on.

Oh, the joy of being in close quarters with hundreds of children.

We should just stay at the casinos where there aren't any germs.

We haven't seen Greg at all in weeks. He's never going to get that house done. Maybe I'll just move in there when I "retire".

Okay, that's every last thing going on in my brain this morning.

Life Is So Unfair

We spent the day yesterday, hanging out at the Excalibur pool.



Our friends are in town from Michigan and staying there, so I took the kids over to go swimming. I wasn't sure how it was going to go, because I tried getting in Mandalay Bay once and was turned away. They are really strict about seeing a room key and then verifying how many registered guests are in a room.

"What do you mean you don't allow 10 people in a room? And you call yourself a casino?"

I wasn't sure where the entrance to the pool was, so I had to march everyone through the casino.

"Is this the mall?", Sarah asked. "It smells like the mall."

That's from hanging out at the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace when I used to push them in the stroller for something to do. They think malls smell like smoke!!!!

No, honey, that's the smell of lung cancer.

I wonder if they will grow up thinking castles have slot machines in them?

I was hoping I wouldn't be too conspicuous with my four kids in matching swimsuits, and the gigantic bag full of food, and the ICE CHEST Greg had packed to make sure I didn't buy anything. There's a reason we don't work people.

The first thing I saw upon entering?

NO COOLERS

But I just walked in like I belonged there and asked for five towels and they just gave them to me.

Can you imagine???? We can hang out there all summer!!!! Do you dare me to me to see how many hotel pools we can get into?

I was a little apprehensive on the way over, because I had never attempted the four kids in a really big pool situation and I wasn't sure if I could manage. But they were FINE. We had a blast!!!!



They went up the water slide a hundred times.



And Gregory told me, "Mommy, this is SO MUCH FUN!"

Austin only went down the slide once. I was waiting at the bottom and caught him and yanked him up from under the water, and he was done. He wouldn't go back up.

I cannot believe that in two short months, these kids are going to be in school. It's like some cruel twist of fate. They finally get really fun and manageable and then they have to go to school. They should go to school until they're FOUR, and then have a six year break, then go back when they get all mopey and not fun in adolescence.

Life is so unfair.

John Ensign, You Suck, You Big Old Hypocrite!

I dropped the kids off at their cooking/game/art class yesterday (YEAH ME!) and flew to the post office and Trader's and Greg's scary grocery store. I felt light as a feather.

Until I saw the newspaper headlines in the store, plastered with our Republican senator, John Ensign, who I voted for, in what was truly a sign I've got dementia or possibly something worse. Mr. John Ensign, who is a conservative Christian and has stood up for the sanctity of marriage and opposed gay marriage' and whose lackeys came to my door wanting me to sign petitions to preserve MARRIAGE, is a big old giant CHEATER.

Maybe he should work on the sanctity of his own marriage. WHAT A HYPOCRITE!!!!!

Or maybe he should take a page out of our other senator's book, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid. Harry has been married 40 years and has five kids and twelve grandkids. Harry isn't coming to my door and telling me I need to protect marriage. Harry lives it. I love Harry.

I really don't even take much stock in politician's private lives, normally, but if you are going to build your entire career on your conservative values and then you don't stick by it, you are a liar and you suck. Do us all a favor John Ensign, as one of your constituents, I implore you to QUIT!!!

I just cannot believe I voted for him. Do I sound bitter?


I just had to put that into the Google search engines today. Sorry to go all Huffington Post on you. We'll be back to our normally scheduled posts about cute kids who don't sleep and all have diarrhea tomorrow.

What's After Beginner Gym? The Circus?

Amanda and Gregory learned to do front flips on the trampoline while their cousins were here. I'm sure if Hale and Calista had been here any longer, they would have taught the kids how to jump off the roof.

I am at a loss as to what to do with them. They went back into beginner gymnastics at the community center yesterday, and Miss Jessica caught me after class and told me that the older three need to move up to intermediate, and Gregory should probably be with a real coach at a real gym.

Okay, I know my sister thinks I put the kids in classes because I'm a Helicopter Parent and want them to learn everything, but I really only put them in classes so I can sit on the bench and socialize with the other parents. The classes are for socialization. MINE.

If I put them in real gym classes with real coaches, then I'll have to hang out with scary, intense parents, and I don't like those people. You know who you are.

Gregory can now fling himself over and over and over the bar. It's unreal. We were at the park last night and he just started doing it, and parents were gasping, and someone asked me if I had talked to anyone at Cirque Du Soleil, because my children are acrobats and should be in the circus. How convenient that I gave birth to a circus in a city where you can actually make a living being a gymnast.

My kids freak people out at the park. I mean, they freak people out. If you guys have hung out with us, you know what I'm talking about. I had to almost call Flight For Life for a real Helicopter Mom, who nearly went into cardiac arrest when Gregory started flipping around the bar on top of the 15 foot slide.

I think she thought I was the world's worst mother because I let my children catapult around bars and dangle precariously from anything they can scale. But, seriously, I am with them every second of every minute of every day, so I know what their ability is.

This woman was screaming and screaming at her kids the entire time we were there. Her four year old was still sucking on a pacifier (I tried to get a picture of that one because the child was three inches taller than Austin was and still sucking a pacifier), and he tried to crawl up the four foot rope ladder and she had a coronary.

"Get down or you're going into time-out!!!!"

He spit out his pacifier and started crying his eyes out because she wouldn't let him. He was following Austin and she wouldn't let him go. She told him it was too hard and he wasn't agile enough. It was the baby equipment!!!!!! We weren't even on the big stuff.

She started making me a nervous wreck with all the yelling. I really don't tell my kids what to do every second. Who has the energy for that? But I did want to yell myself.

"Do you know how messed up your kid's teeth are going to be? Get rid of the pacifier. Take it from me. My mom let me suck a pacifier until I was four too. Your kid is going to trip on his feet and that's going to ram through to his brain!"

Then I had someone else ask me where I had them in gymnastics? Then someone else asked because Amanda had her unitard on, because I never made her change. Who has the energy for that?

So now I'm sitting here wondering if I have to look for real gyms, or call the circus?

I really don't have the energy for that.

We may just continue performing at the park.

The Mothership Is Calling Me Home

While my sister was here, I took her over to the foreclosure house we bought to see Greg's progress.

We had only left for an hour when the woman who destroyed the house in a fit of rage, because it was the bank's fault she owed 200 grand more than it was worth, STOPPED BY to show her mother, who was visiting our country, the house she used to own.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?

Do you really stop by the house you destroyed and stopped making payments on? Do people have no shame? The fact my sister and I missed out on the opportunity to speak to her will haunt me to my dying day.

Then, as if her stopping by wasn't bad enough, GREG LET HER IN, to tour the home she once owned and then DESTROYED.

"Here's where the kitchen used to be, Mom. See? We ripped all the cabinets off the wall.

"Look, Mom. We have indoor plumbing in America. We normally have TOILETS here. We ripped those off too to make you feel more at home in our country. Just stand over the hole and aim."

Then she had the audacity to tell Greg he "ruined" her house, because he ripped out all the disgusting homemade terracing in the backyard and pulled up the ASTROTURF. Not even fake grass, it was ASTROTURF.

I'm banging my head into the wall.

Greg said what did he care? If she hadn't destroyed the house, we wouldn't have gotten such a good deal on it, and we wouldn't have the opportunity to make money. Plus, he got the mailbox keys from her.

She told him that she only took what she put into the house. So he asked her why she took the windows?

"Oh, I needed those for my new house."

Banging. Banging.

Okay, the kids start their summer classes today. I made it. I made it two whole weeks.

Has anyone noticed that my blog has been positively insane since the kids got out of school? I need to get back to the "Mormon" community center, where I am considered normal. You know, where people have morals and are poor and have a hundred children. That's my baseline for normal now.

The Mothership is calling me home.

WHO Is The Over-Parenter????

My sister and I both accused each other of over-parenting this weekend.

I over-parent because I have my kids in too many scheduled activities.

My sister over-parents because she's too controlling and over-protective.

I find this just a tiny bit hilarious, because we grew up with absolutely NO parental supervision and we are both freakishly independent women as adults.

When I was five and Nancy was three, we roamed the neighborhood and would play at the Catholic school by our house, where I would climb a tree and look in the window at the nuns.

I sort of burned part of the school down when I was playing with matches and threw them into the dumpster, but nobody knew it was us.

When I was twelve, younger than my nephew, I had my own paper route and delivered the paper at 5am and collected money. I was responsible for paying my bill each week and making sure the papers were delivered on time.

I also drove with a bat in my basket, because Creepy Guy would be waiting every day, naked underneath his bath robe, then he would stand there and let the wind blow it up. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

I had a job when I was fifteen, and got a driver's license when I was sixteen, and had a car and I drove all my friends to school every day.

I wrecked the car three days after I got it, but it was still drivable.

Looking back, my mother never knew what we were doing, if I think about it. We orchestrated fundraisers on our own. We went caroling by ourselves. We rode our bikes for miles and miles and miles and miles. We rode the city bus all the way across Phoenix by ourselves to our grandmother's when I was eight and she was six. Heck, we went, GASP, trick or treating by OURSELVES.

I learned a lot of life lessons growing up. Don't play with matches or you burn stuff down. Stay away from Creepy Guys, because they like to be naked. If you wreck your car, it will look like hell and you still have to drive it.

My mother was the exact opposite of today's Helicopter Parents, as defined by Wikipedia:

"Helicopter parent is a colloquial, early 21st-century term for a parent who pays extremely close attention to his or her child's or children's experiences and problems, particularly at educational institutions. These parents rush to prevent any harm or failure from befalling them and will not let them learn from their own mistakes, sometimes even contrary to the children's wishes. They are so named because, like helicopters, they hover closely overhead, rarely out of reach, whether their children need them or not."

So it was interesting to discover that we both see each other, in some aspects, as Helicopter Parents.

Ironically, the New York Times has called a death to Helicopter Parenting a couple weeks ago.

The pendulum is swinging in parenting trends, according to all the buzz on the internet, and there are whole new movements to end micromanagement and child-centered parenting.

One such parenting site is called Free Range Kids, where author Lenore Skenanzy writes about giving kids the freedom we had without all the worry.

There's a lot to worry about though, isn't there? Times have changed since my sister and I were kids. According to Free Range Kids, things HAVE changed since we were kids.

All U.S. homicides: Down 40% 1992 -2005.

Juvenile homicide: Down 36% 1993 – 2005 (kids under age 14)

Juvenile homicide: Down 60% 1993 – 2005 (age 14 – 17)

Forcible rape: Down 28% 1992 – 2006

Sex Abuse Substantiations of Children, 1990 – 2005: Down 51%

Physical Abuse Substantiations of Children, 1990 – 2005: Down 46%

Juvenile Sex victimization trends, 1993 – 2003: Down 79%

These stats are from the Crimes Against Children Research, according to her website.

I was reading that with my mouth hanging open. So if that is true, why are we afraid to let our children play outside? Why are we afraid to let our kids walk to school or play at the park?

My sister was freaked out by a truck idling by the school when we went to play on the playground. She said he was suspicious. I thought he was just reading some work plans in the vehicle with the air on.

I pointed out that her "little" boy is 5 foot, six inches now and has a cell phone, which takes pictures and dials 911 in a split second. Was the guy going to jump a six foot tall chain link fence and drag her bigger-than-a-lot-of-grown-men son off the basketball court in broad daylight, while he's dialing 911 and snapping the guy's picture and posting it to YouTube?

No wonder crime is down. Everyone has a cell phone now.

I thought my niece and nephew were perfectly fine, walking one block to our neighborhood school and playing basketball. My sister was a little freaked out about it. She doesn't let her kids play at schools or parks by themselves. They are thirteen and ten. She only let my niece walk to the bus stop by herself a few months ago. It's less than one block from her house. It's like 50 feet, around the corner.

My sister is overprotective, in my opinion, but she thinks I overschedule and am overly obsessed with their education.

Sigh.

Is there a label somewhere in the middle between Free Range and Helicopter?

I would like my kids to walk to school by themselves........ as long as the school gives them a good education, GOD DAMN IT.

What's that label called???? Because I'm totally there. You guys will have to figure it out. I have to see if swimming lessons will fit into our cooking/art/game/gym summer classes.

There's no over-parenting going on here, that's for sure.

What's your label?

Having Too Much Fun To Blog Today

My sister and her kids have been here all weekend, and we celebrated Austin's 4th birthday yesterday. It was so much fun. I think this Boy Versus Girl water fight video will pretty much sum up the hilarity and mood from his party. So much fun. More later. Must continue fun.

Don't Even Try To Triple Dog Dare Me

Does anyone read http://theamazingtrips.com? Jen has four year old triplets and an almost 2 year old, and she just completed a marathon to raise money for cancer, and she does a weekly What's In You Wednesday to talk about exercise and where you are in your weekly goals.

A few weeks ago, when Gregory was doing flip overs on the bar, Jen asked me in the comments.

"Poor Amanda. Dang that Gregory. He makes it look so easy. When's the last time you tried to flip over?? I want you to hand the camera to one of your kids and let them film you trying to cast on to the big bar!!"

I can do flip overs, so I went over to her blog and told I can and she triple dog dared me.



Not bad for a completely sedentary 40 year old woman, eh? Can you do scissors, Jen? I triple dog dare you to do scissors!!!!

What's in YOU, Jen???? I've set the "bar". I want to see a back flip off the bars!

My Insider Info On The Gosselins

I was driving the kids to storytime at the library yesterday, when I just happened to see a sextuplet stroller. What are the odds of that?

I'm sure this daycare worker wasn't at all creeped out by the maniac leaning out of the car window to snap her picture.

So I wasn't at all embarrassed to take another photo when they rolled right into storytime.

Can you imagine pushing this beast? I bet it weighed 250 pounds with those kids in there. It's called a Bye Bye buggy. It's on sale right now for $666. See? It was made by Satan.

So speaking of sextuplets, people are asking me a lot about what I think of Jon and Kate Gosselin and the predictment fame has had on their marriage. I don't watch the show and I've never watched the show. Never. I watch about 2 hours of television a week, so I wouldn't waste it on a reality show about high order multiples, because I live it. If I watch tv, it's to escape reality, not get a higher dose of it.

But I can tell you that way back before the two of them got super famous and Kate had major cosmetic work done, Jon Gosselin used to post in an online multiples group, I belong to. So I can say for a fact, that Jon Gosselin was never on board with being famous and was never on board with the lifestyle they ended up with. I have his words as proof, and since I have nothing else to blog about today, I thought I'd share them with you.

In response to the Harris Sextuplets getting a new home through Extreme Home Makeover, then possibly getting stuck paying taxes on the new appraised value, Jon Gosselin wrote:

Daddyof8
Mon Mar-07-05 08:10 PM
Member since Jul 19th 2005 39 posts

#87993, "RE: Extreme Makeover Home Edition"In response to Reply # 0

The only way it really works is if the labor and material are donated to you by a nonprofit company. (ie. church, firecompany, anyone with a tax id #) Then anyone who donates can write off the donation. I am not an accountant but trust me this is something I have learned in the last year. Normal people are not accustomed to instant fame and fortune. Yes it is nice to be in the spotlight for alittle while, but let me tell you something if you want privacy ever again FORGET IT!!!! Everyone knows where you live and that scares me.

Daddyof8

TWIN GIRLS 10/08/2000SEXTUPLETS BBB GGG 05/10/2004http://www.sixgosselins.com/

Then he went on to write this about reality shows:

Daddyof8
Tue Mar-08-05 02:31 AM
Member since Jul 19th 2005 39 posts

#87997, "RE: Extreme Makeover Home Edition"In response to Reply # 38

Who do you think owns 20/20 and primetime? Lookup the major Cable networks Timewerner and Comcast. I am telling you it is a racket. We all watch. Those people should get a percentage of the ratings now that would be something. They don't see a penny of the ratings for the show. It is a way bigger headache then most of us think. And if they complained about anything they would be ungreatful, RIGHT?

EXACTLY - what say do they have? It is like winning the lottery no one teaches who how to manange that large amount of money. That is why those people end up poorer than what they started out at. You can have all the fancy gadgets in the world but you are still going to have to raise those kids. GOD has taught us to rely on him and him only. No matter what we are human and humans are not as reliable as you think. God will NEVER let you down. "Ask and you shall receive." -"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find;knock, and it shall be opened unto you: For every one thatasketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to himthat knocketh it shall be opened...If ye then, being evil,know how to give good gifts unto your children, how muchmore shall your Father which is in heaven give good thingsto them that ask him?"Matthew -8, 11, KJV"And all things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer,believing, ye shall receive."Matthew 21:22, KJV

Daddyof8

TWIN GIRLS 10/08/2000SEXTUPLETS BBB GGG 05/10/2004http://www.sixgosselins.com/

You can read the whole thread yourself, right here. It's a public board.

Reading the stuff he wrote back in 2005, is like reading foreshadowing of the life he is leading now. So I have no doubt in my mind that Kate was the driving force behind the greed.

Anyway, I think their marital situation has much more to do with instant celebrity, than having high order multiples.

Maybe if Jon went back and read some of things he wrote four years ago, he'd remember what it was all about. It's about your family. Ditch the wife. She's nuts.

Everyone From New Jersey Is Italian?

I've been meaning to write about my triplet mom dinner last week.

We had a new mom come. She is 20 weeks pregnant with spontaneous identical triplet girls. They will be her 5th, 6th, and 7th children. She has four children now, ages 18 months to 9 years old. Can you imagine????

So when she got pregnant with number "five", she planned to homebirth and didn't contact a midwife until 18 weeks. Then she discovered, SURPRISE, that she's having three girls and they are sharing a placenta, so it's big time high risk. No homebirth going on in the near future, that's for sure.

She homeschools too. Can you imagine?

So she's like just slightly freaking out. We really enjoyed meeting her.

It was more fun watching Joselle's reactions more than anything though. If her eyes had gotten any bigger, her corneas might have fallen out.

Joselle's a little dramatic. She might actually be Amanda's real mother. She mentioned at dinner that night that she was Italian. I've known her for three years and that was news to me.

"You're Italian?", I asked.

"Yeah, I'm Italian.", she said, gesturing her arms all over the table. "What did you think I was?"

"I don't know. I just thought you were crazy. How can you be Italian? You don't cook. You feed your kids Who Hash."

Then she told me Jackie was Italian too. Jackie's the gal whose husband went to Iraq when her triplets were still under a year old, and we met up with her at the Halloween party last year. Her husband is back now, thankfully, so she was at dinner too.

"You're Italian too?", I asked.

"Yeeeaaahhhh. I'm from New Jersey."

"So you're Italian if you're from New Jersey? Laura's from New Jersey. Are you saying she's Italian?"

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH, she's Italian!", Joselle and Jackie said in unison, and practically knocked the table over with their arms.

Then Jackie told us her grandfather came over on the boat. He barely spoke English, but that wouldn't stop him from interrogating her prospective suitors, when she brought someone home.

"Lemme see your wallet.", he'd ask the unsuspecting boy. Then he'd check to see if he had any money in there.

"What? Are you a fuckabum?", he'd demand to know.

The boy would say, "What did he say?"

OMG. I laughed so hard, I thought my sides would split. What a fun, fun, fun dinner. I can't imagine what the new gal thought about all that.

So if you are from New Jersey and you aren't Italian, now's your chance to speak up.

Or speak up if you're Italian and you feed your kids Who Hash. We wouldn't want poor Joselle to think she's the only Italian who can't cook.

A Day In The Life Of A Drama Queen

We spent the entire day yesterday at the Springs Preserve.

Amanda worked me the entire day at the Springs Preserve. I mean she worked me the ENTIRE DAY.

It started when we parked the car. I was explaining to everyone that the shade structure at the museum is comprised of solar panels, which capture the energy from the sun and turn it into electricity. This sent Amanda into a tizzy.

"What if it takes all the rays from the sun, and the sun is just a big old ball of ice and the world will be dark and cold forever?"

I should have just left then.

I took forty pictures and this is the only one I have where Amanda isn't scowling.

Mostly she looked like this. She was mad. She was mad that we weren't going to climb on the dinosaur bones. She didn't like those statues.


She was mad on the train. Trains are dumb.

She was mad and wouldn't look at the Native American grass huts. She moped and pouted and was generally beatable. Does anyone else have a child like this? She is the moodiest child I've ever seen. Seriously, I cannot even begin to imagine her as a teenager.

Finally, I figured maybe she was hungry, so we went up to Wolfgang Puck's Cafe and had lunch on the balcony.

She was mad because we ate outside and she didn't get juice for lunch. Then Sarah dumped her water all over, right before she stood up while eating, and all her cheese slid off her pizza on the floor, and Amanda threw her napkin over the balcony.

She was even more mad when we went into the art exhibits.

Fortunately, the other kids just ignore her and they had a really good time.

Here's the boys in the back of a garbage truck in the Sustainable Living exhibit. They have a fantastic hands on green living area.

After 5 hours, we were finally making our way over to the dinosaur bones when Austin and Gregory had to use the restroom. Now that they are getting older, if we are in a public place that isn't crowded and they only have to pee, I will send them into the men's room to use the urinal. It's faster. I just stand right outside the door and wait for them.

"Are you sure you only have to pee?", I asked.

They assured me. Three minutes later, Austin was yelling from inside the men's room stall.

"Mommy! Mommy! I went poopy. Mommy, I need help. Mommy. Mommy. I went poopy."

I started scream-hissing to Gregory, "Is anyone in there?"

He told me there was someone in there. I panicked.

"Austin is who is in there.", he added.

So I ran in and wiped his butt and ran out of there. Good grief. These kids are going to give me a heart attack.

We finally made it to the dinosaur bones which made everyone happy.

On the way out, Amanda said, "That was really fun."

All I can say to my future son-in-law is, GOOD LUCK, you're gonna need it.

I am seriously thinking of sending her to the performing arts magnet school. Someone has to channel the drama queen in her. Any other suggestions?

This Is The Hardest Job In The World

Being a stay-at-home parent is one of the hardest jobs in the world.


It is brutal. You can't believe how stressed out I was yesterday when I had to get up..........



and walk over to the outdoor refrigerator to get a drink. Whew. I was exhausted.

Our neighbor Scott invited us over to swim yesterday in his super fabulous backyard.

Can you believe this is a backyard in Vegas?



That's just half of it. It's over three quarters of an acre. If you are from the Southwest, you can really appreciate a yard like this. That's a fig tree to the right. We don't grow fig trees in the desert!!! The kids and I stood under that tree for quite awhile, eating figs. Mmmmmmmmmm.....

Scott has peaches and apples and grapefruit and tangerines. If we ever run out of money, I'm just going to go over there and forage. Do you see why people move into our neighborhood and never leave?

While Scott and I completed the ardous task of taking care of six children, Scott's wife was at work doing whatever it is lawyers do, and Greg was at work doing whatever it is Greg does, which happened to be replacing windows in the house we bought at The Lakes.

Speaking of that house, one of the young lawyers in Scott's wife firm is going to rent it from us. That means Greg has to have it done by the first of July. Yikes.

So I'm going to keep taking care of the kids full-time so Greg can get that done. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

What Church Are You Going To?

We went to a neighborhood birthday party last night. It was so much fun. The kids swam, they ran around, and ate the most marvelous cupcakes that were baked in ice cream cones. How clever! I wish I would have remembered my camera!

This is such a great age for parties and barbecues. I can remember never sitting down AT ALL when they were smaller. It was totally NOT fun then. Now they are totally self-sufficient and I really don't even see them much. They just run in a pack of kids. Do you remember that? I can remember my parents hanging out with their friends and we would just run with the other kids.

So while the kids were running around, the adults got on some adult conversation. I don't know how the conversation got on this, but there was a man at the party who said he wasn't sending his kids to public school because they teach you to be homosexual there. They indoctrinate you in it.

I went to public school. I don't remember Homosexual 101. Was I absent that day? Do people really think that?

"You think they teach your kids to be gay in public school?", I asked, because I was curious. Do people think you meet someone who is gay and BAM, you're gay?

He went on and on about the gay agenda and how he sends his kids to Christian school to keep his kids from having to learn about gays. Because then what, they don't exist? My neighbor and I were speechless.

Then he went on and on and on about how bad it is nowadays. Things are bad. The world is bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Things are much worse than when we were kids.

Really? Are they really? My parents smoked pot for crying out loud. Are things really WORSE than the SEVENTIES?

Worse for who exactly? Is it worse for women? Women can do anything they want today. My girls can choose any path they want. At no time in history have women had so many choices. They can choose when and if to marry. They can choose to have a lot of children or one child or no children. They can choose to work or stay home. Really. It's phenomenal how much is open to them.

Is it worse for minorities? Would you say the seventies were better for people of color? How about biracial children? Wouldn't you say the general attitude in our country is better for people of mixed races now than in the seventies?

So is it worse for gays? You know, I don't know, because I didn't take Homosexual 101 in school.

But I know this. Any one of us could end up with a child who is gay. And the thought that someone would hate them just for being alive makes me so so so so sad I can hardly stand it.

So now I remember why I didn't walk, but ran away from a religion that taught me to hate people who were different than me.

Things have only gotten worse for people who teach hatred under the guise of religion, because people like me don't buy it anymore.

So I've decided not to send my children to church.

I've decided I'm going to homechurch. There's way too many crazies out there.

Everything But The Kitchen Sink In This Post

I haven't mentioned it, but Greg is out of town with his mother. He drove down with her to California to watch his niece graduate from eighth grade. Claire is homeschooled, so none of us were sure how that worked exactly.

"Now come down the hall, then across the kitchen, and move your tassel."

Of course, that's not how it works! So many people homeschool these days that all the homeschooled kids get together and have a ceremony at a church.

He made sure to remind me that Friday was National Donut Day and to go get our free Krispy Kreme donuts. I don't eat donuts, so the kids had never been inside a donut shop before.

"Hi! We're here for our five free donuts."


The kids all picked out the one they wanted and watched the donuts being made. Thanks Krispy Kreme!!!!!!!!!!

I left the wrought iron gate across our driveway open yesterday and "Uncle" Jerry came in and started pounding on our window. He was having a barbecue and we were invited. Since Greg was gone and I didn't feel like cooking dinner, I figured, why not?

A couple months ago, Jerry came pounding on the window when Greg's mom was over and Greg was out of town. He was crying. Literally. It was his birthday. He was 39.

"I've been crying all day.", he told me and Barb. "I just can't believe I'm 39 and have never been married and don't have a family."

Then he downed the beer he carried over and took a new one out of his back pocket.

Greg's mom said, "Maybe whatever it is you're doing isn't working for you? Maybe you need a change?"

Like maybe a job, your own house, and a twelve step program?

So we went over to the barbecue and Jerry told me his new girlfriend was coming. She is from Japan and her parents sent her to America to get an education at UNLV.

Greg and I used to insure a lot of the girls from Japan who were going to UNLV, so I know that when Japanese girls first get here, they will not look at you when you speak to them. I guess that's rude in their culture. Of course after I insured them for a couple years, they would come bounding into the office in their mini skirts and platforms and loudly yell, "Hey girl. I need to renew my insurance!", while looking right at me.

So I knew she was Japanese before Jerry told me because our neighbor's son is married to her friend. That's how Jerry got set up with her.

So imagine how embarrassed I felt for her when Jerry introduced her as Vietnamese to everyone. He's been dating her for a month and doesn't know she's from Japan?

"Jerry, she's JAPANESE. I've only known her for five minutes and knew that.", I chastised him.

She's in her last year, getting her accounting degree, and she doesn't want to go back to Japan. She wants to stay here. I talked to her for a long time and I think she's set her sights on Jerry so she can marry and stay in the country.

OMG! Can you imagine if her parents knew they had sent her all the way over here to get an education and she ends up with JERRY? Why anyone would send their kids to college in LAS VEGAS is beyond my imagination anyway.

"Nevermind the 24 hour drinking and gambling and prostitutes, Billy. You keep your nose in the books."

I already had to protect her from a creepy Leisure Suit Larry guy at the barbecue. He was touching her shoulders and getting into her personal space like he had a right to do that, and I gave him the Stink Eye and he backed off.

I'm calling her parents!!!!!!!!! I'm kidding, sort of.

So when Amanda saw Jerry kissing her, she became distressed and yelled at them.

"Stop kissing her Jerry. You're not MARRIED."

Then when we got home, Amanda was all worked up because she doesn't ever want to get married, and neither does Jerry and neither does Uncle Mark, because they don't HAVE to if they don't want to and why was Jerry kissing her?

That conversation led to a lot of tears about how Amanda doesn't want to grow up, because she doesn't know how to make dinner and how is she going to take care of a bunch of kids, because she'll be too tired.

"I just want ONE kid.", she sobbed.

Then that conversation led to her not knowing what she wants to be when she grows up and what if she loses her job? How will she buy food to feed all her kids if she gets married? Then she told me she doesn't want to grow up.

This went on for a half an hour. I told her she's a little girl right now and she doesn't have to worry about any of those things because she's going to go to school and figure out what she want to be and she doesn't have to have ANY children if she doesn't want them and she WILL learn how to cook dinner.

Geesh. Where does this stuff come from?

Okay, now the kids are up and I must end on that note.

So You're Dumb If You're Poor And Black?

Despite the kids complaining that it was too cold to go outside yesterday, I made them go to the park in the 72 degree weather yesterday. Talk about freaky weather in June!

We went to the park by our house, where I met a lady and her four year old daughter who live in our neighborhood. She knew me. I didn't know her. I guess people know you when you spend three years pushing a six foot long stroller around. So at some point, I met her and talked to her, yet I have no memory of it.

She lives in the guest house on her husband's parent's property.

I asked her if she was sending her four year old to our neighborhood school?

"Oh, no. No. No. We're sending her to Faith Lutheran. Why are YOU sending yours there?"

So I told her I was.

She lives in her in-laws backyard and she's paying for private school? Okay, whatever.

"Are you really?", she asked in disbelief.

Then she yelled over to her friend, who was visiting from The Ridges, that I was sending my kids there and she gestured to our school, which you can see from our park.

"Did you know our school is high achieving?", I asked her.

"No. No. No, I didn't. My mother-in-law is a first grade teacher there and she told me not to send my daughter there because of the kids they bus in."

"The high achieving ones?", I asked, because seriously I am getting SICK OF THIS.

"Well, she said that they are so far behind that they really have to dumb down the classes."

"But if they are far behind, then why are our test scores so good?"

"I don't know, but you know they come from a really bad neighborhood."

"I know. They've been coming here for 25 years. But they come on the bus. So that means they go home on the bus. It's not like our kids are going to be smoking crack with them at this park."

Then I pointed out the test scores again. It would be one thing if our school was full of kids from the ghetto and we were failing to educate them, but we have great scores.

Do you understand that it's just an accepted knowledge if you live in my neighborhood that your just DON'T send your child to our public school? Does the principal know this? Does he know that the very people living around the school are in "white flight"? What is he doing about it? Is he doing anything to change the perception of the school in this neighborhood AT ALL? Do I have to do this myself? I'll buy neon signs and walk around distributing letters like the smut peddlers on the Strip.

Finally, I told her, "Look being poor and black doesn't mean you're stupid. Our president was poor and black and he made out okay."

"You are really making me think.", she told me. "I would love to walk my daughter to school."

"Well, I'm sending mine there, so if you decide to do that, just know that I'll be at the school every day and Austin will be in class with your daughter and we can walk together. If we ALL send our kids there, it wouldn't be a bad school! RIGHT?"

Am I the only person dealing with "white flight"? I've always read that this happens and the whites flee to the suburbs, but I never thought I'd live right in the middle of a mass exodus.

Do I have to walk door to door and recruit students by promising I will single-handedly repopulate the school with my offspring? This is just CRAZY!

Day Six: Free Storytime At The Library

We used our sixth day of summer vacation to take advantage of storytime at the library. If you haven't checked out your library this summer, you should. Our library district always has a summer reading program which offers incentives each week in exchange for a list of books read.

Then the kids get to pick gifts donated from Target out of a treasure chest if they read five books each week, which can also include admission to the Children's Discovery Museum. This is so much fun for the kids.

So I figured this summer would be a good time to start going again, plus I figured I could stalk some of my Mormon gal pals, because that's where I met half of them before our kids ended up in preschool together. So how miserable is your summer so far? ME TOO!

I started taking all four kids to storytime by myself when they were 28 months old. I know that because I've had this blog for almost three years now. We were escorted out of the library by the librarian at our first storytime.

We used to go every single week for storytime. Then the kids started preschool which was on the same day as storytime and while we go to the library every week, we haven't been to actual storytime in almost a year and a half. Man, what a difference two years of preschool make.

My kids know how to sit quietly on the floor now. I used to have to sit down with them and yank them down and shush them. It used to be SO STRESSFUL.

Now they sit quietly AND listen AND participate. It was so much fun. TOTALLY different than taking three 2 year olds and a one year old. We have the same librarian too. The very same one who escorted me out to my car at that first storytime.

She told me she couldn't believe how big the kids have gotten and then I said I couldn't believe she remembered them.

"I remember AMANDA!", she told me.

I can't imagine why.

Okay, so now I'm stumped for today. What to do today? What other free or cheap summer stuff am I missing for kids to do in the summer?

Day Five: Meet The Creepy Crawlies

I got my groove back yesterday. Of course we were having a miserable summer vacation. We were staying at home. These kids need to be on the go!!! So when I woke up yesterday and we were unseasonably cool and overcast and in the 70s, I loaded the kids up and we went to Red Rock Canyon. You usually can't go there at this time of year, but it was absolutely perfect.

We even stopped at the visitor center, where they had desert reptiles on display. Sarah was hellbent on finding a chuckwalla after our visit and told me 50 times that she needed to explore under creosotes to find one.

Chucky looked friendly enough, but I had to break it to her that he might be next door neighbors with a rattlesnake and it's snake season.

They also had a large tarantula in a glass enclosure, which caused Amanda to actually crawl up my body like a baby kitten. I have to admit, tarantulas freak me out. I'm not even afraid of snakes, but oh boy, this thing gives me the creeps.

The final exhibit had a bunch of scorpions in it. Amanda became a barnacle and I couldn't even pry her off me. So armed with all our new information about all the creepy crawly stuff you NEVER see in the desert, we headed out to go hiking.

First stop was Calico Hills. Sarah looked for Chucky and I tried to keep the other kids from falling off the sandstone cliffs. Talk about a sharp dropoff. Yikes.
So we got back in the car and headed over to Lost Creek and went on the Children's Discovery trail, which is an easy loop through four geographical zones, which escape me at the moment, but when traveling with five year olds, they range from mildly dangerous to moderately dangerous.

The kids love hiking and it's something we've done with them since they were two. If you bring your kids to Vegas with you, you should go check out Red Rock when the weather is cooler. Before I had my kids and my health went to pot, I used to hike several times a month.

Sarah continued her search for Chucky and Amanda pondered why God would throw a boulder in our way. We saw quail with all their babies, ground squirrels, lots of lizards, iridescent blue dragonflies, and those giant beetles, which caused Amanda to completely freak out and then she superglued herself to my leg.
When something fell out of a tree and landed on her, she started screaming and jumped in my arms.

The desert is so green this year. I don't remember ever seeing so much greenery, but maybe that's because I never hike here in June. Red Rock is only 30 minutes from our house. Las Vegas is right over that mountain in the horizon.

Although we didn't find a chuckwalla, we did run into an iguana.

Or maybe it was a lizard, but I'm going with iguana. Meet Iggy.



Then, amazingly, someone planted grapes at the Lost Creek springs and the vine is covered with grapes. Grapes are not indigenous to a desert riparian area!!!! That's just unbelievable.

So Day 5 was much better. Now I've got to figure out where to go every day for the next 2 months. How about Michigan? I have a better chance of winning Megabucks than us seeing another morning in the 70s until November.