Sing it with me......

Tomorrow....Tomorrow....I love ya'....Tomorrow...

ZooDad comes home! YEAH!!!!
I need the big cheese grinning smiley face.

I don't' know why this last trip was so bad. After ten years of ZooDad being gone at least 1/4 of the year, I really should be used to it. But this week was just a kicker.
But at 7:38 pm I will feel much better. My anchor will come back home. I know sometimes he feels that he's just the breadwinner for our family. I think I need to remind him more often that he is truly the foundation, roof, and main structural support of our family.
I can do all the things that I do because I have his love and support. Without him...well...go back and read my last two posts.

I need him. He's the one who makes me believe that I am doing things right. He tells me that the new curtains look perfect that way I've hung them. The that laundry doesn't have to be caught up and the sink can have dishes.
That having four healthy, happy, clean and fed boys is a major achievement.

I wish I was more eloquent and I could put into words. I guess the best thing way to say it is that I have many times over the past 10 years, gotten on my knees and thanked God for sending that man into my life.

And tomorrow we get him back!

Crawling out of my pity puddle.

I'm really not much of a whiner. But every now and then I dig myself out a nice little hollow and cry it full so I can wallow in it. It's comforting for a bit. But after I'm covered in my own pitifulness I look at how filthy I am and think to myself..."Well, that accomplished nothing. What are you doing this for?"

sigh

Maybe it's because ZooDad is in Germany and I can't talk to him like I'm used to. Maybe it's the fact that standardized testing is rapidly approaching and I am feeling the crunch...though I know we aren't "behind." Maybe it's the stress of getting M assessed for OT and speech or redoing A's Medicaid waiver for disabled children. Maybe it's the fact that I just shelled out $100 on an stupid ER visit because a cut on my stupid foot got infected and I have to take these stupid antibiotics for a week.
Maybe its just PMS.

But I can't publicly wallow in my pity. I can't actually voice my frustration. They'll just try to make it better or worse....I'll open the door for them to comment of my life choices. Yes, I know I do too much. Yes, I know A requires a lot of one-on-one time. Yes, four kids is a lot of work. Yes, I know homeschooling, cub scouts, basketball, my rubberstamp business, my web work, and my hobbies all take up a lot of time.
I know this.

But I'm not giving any of it up. Why should I have to? My life brings me more joy than stress. The things I do, I do for my huband, my sons, or for myself. Which part is too much? Which part is worth giving up?

None of it.

Wait

I'll give up the PMS. That part is not worth it.

Still a misfit

I am now convinced that I just won't ever fit in anywhere. No matter where I am, unless it's home with ZooDad, I'm not "enough." I'm not religious enough. I'm not worldly enough. I'm not trendy enough. I'm not fashionable enough. I'm not talented enough. My kids watch too much TV. I don't read enough books and I read the wrong kind. I don't eat the right foods. I don't interact with my kids the right way. I don't have issues with evolution. I homeschool my kids. I still have have two kids sleeping in my room. I don't wear the right clothes. I don't have decent shoes. I have too much money. I don't have enough money. I'm such a closed-minded conservative. I'm too liberal for my own good. I'm not doing enough. I'm doing too much. Whatever topic is being discussed...I either don't know enough or know too much and that frightens people. I'm a nerd. I'm a ditz.
No matter what group I am with, I am the odd man out.
I'm clueless. I'm out of the loop. I am out of fashion. I'm out of touch.
Today, I have been reminded of this twice by two different groups. I'm not "enough."

I was wrong. Life is just like high school.

My social skills must stink horribly bad or I care too much about what others think.
Please forgive my rant. I had to get it out.

Ok, now that the power situation is stable....

I can tell you my newest source of mommy embarrassment.

So A has this speech problem. *I* understand him. His Daddy understands him. His multitude of brothers understand him. Some people who hang out with his toddler self understand him. But strangers...well...they usually look has him with puzzled expressions and then look up to me for translation of some enlightened phrase.
More often than not it's something like "I have a red truck." or something potty related.

Of course, over the past few days people have been able to understand him quite well and I'm not getting a puzzled look. I'm getting "maybe-we-should-call-child-protection-services-on-this-lady" look.

Let me first explain A's speech idiosyncrasies. He can't say "f." Most of the time he substitutes "b" for any "f" sounds. So the phone becomes "bone." a fork becomes "bork." He can't do "sh" either. His "sh" sounds magically transform into "ch" sounds. Bush becomes "buch." Shoes are "choosch."

All this is fine in most of our conversations. We've learned to interpret and gently correct and mimic the proper pronunciation. (His ST asked us too so don't think we're pushing the kid.)

But lately...as in every day...he's wanted to talk to complete strangers about our pet fish and all things fish related. (Go ahead. Do the substitution. Yes....that is what comes out of his mouth.)

Oh goodness... he does love to talk about the fish. "I have 2 new fish and one old fish. When my old fish dies, we're going to get a new fish. I has an old big black fish. That fish sucks on everything. The new fish are small and red. The new fish eat all the time. The cats likes to drink the fish water. Do you have a fish? You should get fish. Fish are nice."

Oh yes.
The poor strangers. First they look horrified. Then they eventually figure it out and then start to giggle and blush. Then they give me that "you-poor-thing" look while I try to change the subject to something non-fish related. One guy at the zoo just threw his head back and laughed until he cried.

The boy loves his fish.

Aw Crud!!!!

I finally get a moment to blog. I even type up a clever little teaser and a story about my 3rd kid's funny speech stuff....then lightning strikes and everything went black.

Power Loss.
It came back on though. (I just had a Monty Python moment just there. bonus points for the one who guesses what line popped into my head.)

Now I am realizing what a bad idea it is to let the boys play with my flashlights. I have no idea where any of them are. I did manage to find a lighter and I gathered some candles. Just in case.

Now I'm sitting here with a lighter and tea candle in my pocket.

Just in case.

Toilet update for Dy

No, it is still not fixed. ZooDad did however rig it so I can flush without sticking my hand in the tank.
Who knew that replacement toilet parts were responsible for the moral decline in our country.
By the way ZooDad reacted as you did. He's still ranting about it since HE is now responsible for picking up the new handle.

No flushing on Sundays

It was a pretty non-blog weekend. The basketball team I coach, won another game. I did laundry. Oh, and I broke the toilet.
Sunday morning, I tried to flush and the plastic handle thing that raises the flapper, broke off. So when I pressed the handle, nothing happened.
This prompted me to wake up ZooDad so he could investigate the cause of the non-flushing toilet. (I manage most of the household. I do not handle plumbing, electrical, or computer issues.)
ZooDad determined the issue and asked me to pick up a toilet handle kit when I went out. Notice that was a "when" and not an "if." I tend to run all over on Sundays. It is the one day I can go store hopping without the ZooBoys. Right at lunch, I decided that I needed to cross the river and head over to the Target in the next state.
Wow...that sounds odd of me. Let me explain. We live three miles from this river/state line. There is a town on the other side of the river, in this other state that shares the same name as my town. This town is just an extension of my town. It is no big deal to go from one state to the other. In fact, when I was in high school in the other state...I would drive to my current state for breakfast each morning before heading to school.

Any way, I needed to go to Target to get exchange a broken present that J got for his birthday and my Target was all out that item.
I got to that Target at 12:45 and found it closed. The sign said that it would not open until 1:30. It was only then that I remembered the Sunday Blue Laws.
geesh
I called ZooDad to let him know that I wouldn't even get in the door for another 45 minutes. He reminded me about the toilet handle so I went across the street to the Super Wal-Mart (which was open) to get the handle and grab a book to read while I waited for Target to open. By the time I got to the check out, I had picked up a half dozen odd items. My cashier rang up my purchases except the toilet handle.
She said, "You can't buy this yet."

I stared at her for a least three seconds before asking why.

It seems that the state's Blue Laws forbid the purchase of toilet handles before 1:30 pm on Sundays. Toilet handles are hardware and apparently no hardware purchases are past of the Blue Laws that forbid alcohol purchases on Sunday. It was 1:10 pm.

That's right....even if it is an emergency...you'll just have to wait until 1:30 like everybody else. State law does not prevent a store from opening before the stated time. They just can't sell certain things until after 1:30 pm. Toilet handles are apparently on that list of Sunday contraband.

Ironically, due to this county's status as a tourist location, I could have ordered a beer at Applebee's at 11:30 am but heaven forbid if I'd like to flush before 1:30.

Thoughts of "Music Man" entered my head.
Ya got trouble, folks!
Right here in River City!
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for pool!

Can't waste a good day

The Zooboys are lunching out on the deck. As soon as we finish SOTW and science (also out on the deck) we'll be done for the day. The boys have already made plans. They are going to look for signs of Spring.

Wishful thinkers.

I've told them what to look for. (Increased insect activity, enlarged leaf buds, flowers, little green sprouts.) They are guaranteed to find something since it has bee a bit warm here and my Gardenias are blooming. That is one of the wonderful parts of living in the South. Ever February shows signs of Spring.

Daddy sang bass.....

Today has been a Johnny Cash-a-thon. That was my Dad's music. My earliest memories are listening to Johnny on 8-track in my Dad'd white Ford pick-up. I didn't listen by choice. There just wasn't any other option so I just learned to like it.
I went to see Mr Cash twice in concert. My parents took me. Well, my Dad went and Mom and I had to come along. That was back when you could bring your child to a concert. My Dad used to try to play Johnny's music and he would force me and my best friend Lois to sing along.
As I grew older, I moved away from my Daddy's old fuddy music. But I never forgot the lyrics or the melodies. They stayed hidden in some strange recess of my mind. I actually won a $100 bet in college due to my repetoir of JC lyrics.

When my father was diagnosed with cancer in 1999, I came across one of his Cash cassette tapes. I popped into my tape player and smiled at the familiar songs of prison, drunkenness, and finding redemption in the Lord. The sounds from my childhood filled my little sedan and my oldest son instantly fell in love with the style. Over the next years, I started buying my own Cash CD's and buying a copy for my Daddy too.
The boys came to know Johnny Cash's music as "Granddaddy's music." I have calle my Daddy many times to share with him the love his grandsons had for "Johnny Yuma," "Teen-age Beauty Queen," and "One Piece at a Time." I went and bought the CASH 4 CD with DVD just to show my father the video of "Hurt" which was being played on MTV.
When Mr. Cash died in 2004. I mourned. He had served in the Air Force the same time my Daddy did. He had a son my age. And he had sang the soundtrack of my time with my Daddy.
I had known for years that my father would most likely die from the cancer that he had been fighting. I knew he would be gone before I would be ready but I never really accepted it until Johnny Cash died. If he could die....then my own father could.

So now I listen to this music by choice. I find great joy and comfort that my favorite little boys are learning to sing the songs I listened to with my favorite little man. I hope they are scarred by "Cocaine Blues" but I figure since I wasn't...they'll be okay. I love sharing this with them. They are things their Granddady would have loved to share with them. It's my way of keeping him with them.

And when they finally do get to see him again...they'll already know all the words to sing along.

Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor
Me and little brother would join right in there
Singin' seems to help a troubled soul

One of these days and it won't be long
I'll rejoin them in a song
I'm gonna join the family circle at the throne ...

No, the circle won't be broken
Bye and bye, Lord, bye and bye ...
Daddy'll sing bass, Mama'll sing tenor
Me and little brother will join right in there
In the sky, Lord, in the sky.
In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

Gizoogle (mature language warning also called..cuss words)

If you need a "mature language" giggle, Do a search on Gizoogle. The discriptions come up in Snoop Dog speak.

According to them, The Zoo is "Tha trivial comments from tha Rappa Mom of four wonderful ZooBoys n sh*t." Ha, ha, ha....somtimes I am that.

Update on my delayed talker

He's getting closer to where he was prior to potty training. The "s" blends are still giving him trouble but he manages to make himself understood in spite of not being about to say any unvoiced sounds. (p,t,c,f,h)
Last night he spent a good bit of time trying to talk me into buying a Dyson. I think he liked it because it was gold and not yellow like my plain old vacuum.

Odd kid.

Trying again without the drugs and the menthol.

After basketball on Saturday, we headed over to our friendly neighborhood pet shop. My intentions were to pick up a ultra cool herp habitat and then let the boys pick out one newt each. I had spent the previous days really talking up the finer points of newt ownership and what great pets they were. (They are really cool pets. Fun to hold, but not too fast. Unique, but not too difficult to care for.)

We were all set to get new newts.

Alas, the pet shop had NO NEWTS! None! They were totally newtless.

We were all disappointed. I was just crestfallen. I think ZooDad was secretly glad. He has this amphibian phobia. I stomped around the store, quite upset and let down. The ZooBoys were sad for the approximately 3 seconds it took for them to discover the small mammal tanks.
Once they saw those little hamster heads, any thought of having newt pets quickly faded away.

As soon as Baby S planted himself belly down on the floor to get a closer look at the little balls of fur, ZooDad knew it was inevitable.
ZooDad was a little reluctant but I convinced him. I've had quite of bit of small animal care experience. In my pre-zoo days, I taught middle school science and our room really was a ZOO! At the high point, our class was home to 5 Zebra finches, some oscars, a few fire belly newts, a few Oregon newts, a fire bellied toad, a Chinese water dragon, a mean-as-heck iguana, a guinea pig, a gerbil, a dwarf lop bunny, and family of Russian dwarf hamsters. They was one substitute that refused to work in my room due to the critters...not the kids.
And then just for good measure, I worked in a pet shop during college. I used to have quite a herp collection. I was one of those tank dweebs that built custom sets. I'll have to dig out some pictures so you can appreciate how committed I once was. (and how patient my parents were.)


The boys picked out 2 tiny little Russian dwarf hamsters and I selected two cages and all the accessories for feeding and playing. It's pretty much the equivalent of a mile of hamster tubing. Our newest ZooCritters have been named Susie and Goldie. Thankfully, our local petshop only sells female small mammals. ZooDad is slowly warming to the idea of us actually taking said creature out of their habitats (or exhibits as M calls them.)and playing with them. He's having a hard time being as patient and understanding as my parents were. (I have to tell the story about my dad and the hamster food. It was the only time he ever got made about my pets.)

Poor guy. He just wanted fish. Not newts and definitely not hamsters.
To make him happy, we cleaned out the tank and bought a pair of grumpy red oscars. They sort of match ZooDad in personality.

I'm still looking for newts though. One day, I'm going to build a new tank. I want a set up like super newt. Are those not the cutest little herp faces you've ever seen?

No 'newts' is good 'newts'

****ha, ha, ha...somehow I managed to post just the title. That would be a funny thing to just leave there. Someone would just drop by and think, "Oh my, the ZooMom has lost the last shred of sanity she had left. Maybe it's time for her to hit the funny farm and leave to Zoo in more capable hands"
I think I should just leave this post and start again when I'm not high on cold medicine and Vicks vapor rub.****

More funny talk

We had three fish: a plecostomus, a spotted cat, and a mean, black cichlid. We've had them for a awhile. Yesterday, the spotty cat went to that great fish tank in the sky. Well, at least his little fishy spirit did. His earthly body, however, got partially sucked in the filter in-take tube.
That was how M discovered him yesterday morning. The "Nemo Escape" gone terribly wrong.

After all the pet death discussion...I expected trouble.
All he said was..."A's fish is dead! I get to scoop him out and flush him."

So much for trouble.

Today, I did find the trouble. Jaune, the mean, black (formerly yellow) cichlid is having swim bladder problems. He's not going to last much longer. I've dosed the tank but there's not a whole lot more I can do. M is not happy about it.

I, on the other hand, am happy with the thought of ditching the fish tank. It was ZooDad's idea to get fish. I wanted newts. They are much easier to take care of and I have lots of reptile and amphibian experience.

Newts are cool. Now all I have to do is convince the boys and I am back in herp heaven.

ZooDad wants to be on the record

The scanner is now working.
Thank you big man.

All cozy up in the Bear Cub den

Three years ago, I started as my oldest son's Tiger Leader. We had 11 Tiger Cubs. It was a big den.
The next year, I had a new baby so I didn't do the official leader thing but I helped out at every meeting. We lost a few Wolves but gained a few and ended up with 12 Wolves bridging up to Bears.
This year I took over the leader reins again with a fabulous co-leader. 10 of the Bears came back. One moved away and one just really wasn't into scouting. At the first meeting, we added 4 new Bear cubs bringing us up to 14 in the den.
No problem...14 boys. Most, I have known for several years. All homeschooled.
Last den meeting....number 15 showed up. Wow...15.

Today 16 and 17 arrived.

We're going to need more chairs.

No one wants to split up though. They are all thick as thieves and love to be together. Plus they are quite well behaved for a pack of 3rd grade boys. It's chaos but they are entertaining.

17 and we only have 38 kids in the whole pack.

That's not counting my 3 Boy Scouts that serve as Den chiefs.

We have a big room.
We also have a lot of fun.

Today's activities: dried bean mosaics of Native American Symbols, a puzzle to learn about tribes that have been in our area, learned to play three traditional Native American Games and made two of them to take home and play. Oh yeah...and we decorated Valentine cookies for a snack.

Why I hate sharing a computer with my Husband

This is a grumpy rant post.
You have been forewarned.

One day, I spent an hour setting up some new checklists for our homeschool. Both J and M got new weekly lists. Plus I did some new chore charts. My whole day revolved around getting these new lists implemented.
I clicked print and the monster computer gave me the "Printer is not online" message. Now, ZooDad's desk is not the most organized of areas. Cables stretch far and wide. The printer is actually across the room. So I had no idea how to get the printer back online. So I called ZooDad at work to tell him that the printer was not working. His response, "Yeah, I know. I'll fix it when I get home."

Grrrrrr.
This morning, I got up a little early so I could scan and copy some worksheets for M. He's only 6 but he likes to be occupied during school time. If J is working, M wants to work too. So I fired up the computer....waited for it to get going...chose my handouts and put them in the scanner and pressed "copy."
Nothing happened.
So I tried the normal thing by accessing the program through the computer. The dreaded message window popped up..."Scanner is not online."
I emailed ZooDad to inform him. His Response...."Yeah, I know. I'll fix it when I get home."

I hate sharing a computer.

Conversations in the Van

This is just a quick post because I had to make a record of this precious conversation that explains a lot about my 6 year old's personality.

Thursday evening, I went to tuck him in on his lower bunk bed and my little 6 year old "M" was crying. "I don't want Stamper and Angel to die. And I don't want Max to die either." Stamper and Angel are our dogs. Max is out cat. Apparently, his older brother had told him that dogs only live about 15 years and that our dogs were already 10 years old.
So I spent some time comforting him and explaining that all creatures die eventually. I tried to focus on the fact that Max is only 2 years old and has a lot of time left.

Friday morning, we were in the van and we had the following conversation.

M:Mom, Max is 4 years younger than me right?"

Me: Yep, Max was even born in the same month as you. When you turn 7, Max will be 3.

M: And when I turn 10, Max will be 6. And I'll be 19 when Max dies.

Me: Well it depends on how long Max lives. But you'll be a lot older than you are now.

M: I'm glad people live longer than pets do.

Me: Me too.

M: If you were a cat, you'd be dead by now. (Older brother J glares at him.)

Me: Well, I'd certainly be an old cat.

M: No, you'd be a dead cat. (J glares at him again.)

Me: Well, when you get as old as I am, I'll still be alive.

M: Yeah....but you'll be in a nursing home.


AAAACCCKKKKKK! What a funny kid.

A list of non-school things I want my boys to be able to

1. tell how ZooDad and I met and what we first thought of each other.
2. find where their relatives are buried.
3. change a flat tire.
4. make decent iced tea.
5. Tell the story of their birth day. What happened and how we felt.
6. explain their complete medical history and our medical history.
7. build a really good sand castle
8. find sand dollars
9. swim
10. cook one really great meal for guests.
11. play a sport, well.
12. read for fun and education.
13. sing a few hymns.
14. play an instrument.
15. change a diaper.
16. soothe a crying baby.
17. treat others with compassion.
18. use power tools.
19. grow something beautiful.
20. speak with confidence.
21. pick out their own clothes.
22. be a good guest.
23. make people feel comfortable.
24. smile in the face of adversity.
25. be proud of themselves.
26. try new things without fear.
27. follow directions.
28. work hard for the sake of doing a good job.
29. do something they love.
30. love someone as their father loves me.

A no-blog kind of day

We had a faily boring day.
The two oldest ZooBoys had check ups today. J is off the charts and M is 95 percentile. We grow 'em big here at the zoo.They get it honest though. ZooDad is a giant.
Then it was a quick trip down to the cemetary to check out my Dad's new stones and make sure everything was as my Mom wanted it. It is. Headstone is nice, footstone is in place and the flower holders have been placed. My grandparents' headstone was lifted and cleaned. The brickwork is all done. Once it gets warmer, I'll have the sod put in. Once everything was checked out, the zooboys and I ate out McDonald's take out amongst the old stones.

This is the cemetery I played in as a child. I would help clean of my grandfather's grave. I'd pull weeds and plant flowers. Now my sons get to do the same for their grandfather.

Then it was off to speech and therapy, a quick stop at the scout shop to pick up acheivements for tomorrow's pack meeting, and over to my mom's to show her the pictures from the cemetery and visit for a while.