The much-touted Rules of Our Household.

Side note:
Some of these rules may seem odd. They were made as the need arose. Believe it or not. Also, these are not carved in stone.

1.The tv is not to be turned on until schoolwork is completed. Or housework, as applicable.

2. On Christmas morning, you are not allowed to get out of bed before 6 am. Same goes for the adults.

3. It is not an emergency unless the blood is dripping.

4. No bringing dead things into the house.

5. No bringing live things into the house.

6. No playing with dead things.

7. No playing with live animals. Remember, chickens don’t like to slide.

8. Only one person at a time is allowed in the bathroom while Mommy is on the toilet. Daddy is exempt and can overrule another’s presence.

9. Whoever cooks the meal doesn’t have to clean up after it. That means the dining room table, not the kitchen.

10. Cleaning your room does not mean “push it all in a corner or under the bed”.

11. Knives must be used with adult supervision.

12. All candies brought into the household are subject to the Parent Tax, by which each parent is entitled to no less than 5% of said candy. Candies may also be confiscated and handed out as deemed appropriate by the warden.

13. Bad Words are subject to a tax of 25 cents. This applies to adults as well as children. If you didn’t know it was a bad word, you only have three chances to say it. If you say the bad word, you have to pay *each* person who heard the full amount of 25 cents.

14. Mommy is exempt from handling dead animals, such as mice in a trap or a mangled chicken in the yard. She is entitled to handle only such things as we eat.

15. No playing with string longer than six feet.

16. Your dirty clothes do not magically transform into clean ones in your dresser. You must actually move them from the floor to the laundry basket in the bathroom. It’s right next to the large white box, commonly known as a washer. Somehow, Daddy is also exempt from this.

17. You are allowed to protest any rule with phrases such as, “Do I *have* to?” Each protest will be carefully considered and answered with an automatic “Yes.” Eye-rolling and emphatic sighing does not help your case.

18. In cases where a child endeavors to weigh the odds in his favour by separately asking permission from the parents in hopes of differing answers, said parents are entitled to a private conference. Gotcha.

19. Do not try to pull a fast one while one parent is busy with one or more of your siblings. The other parent will catch you. This is know as Tag-Team parenting.

20. Hugs and kisses are tax exempt, free, and available at all times. After you’ve been tucked in, however, you’re just getting a tiny one.

imagine that!

Side note:
I ran some errands, too, and while I was at the bank, they asked me to sing.
Okay, so that just sounds odd, but you’d have to live here. It was a slow day for them, and I had been amusing them with my funny stories, plus I had four accounts to do things with, so its not like the teller was just standing there doing nothing.
One of them had heard me sing in church, and it wasn’t until I was driving home that I thought of a couple of decent songs they would’ve enjoyed. As it was, the only thing I could think of on the spot was “The Dead Chicken Rap” that the kids and I made up.
Don’t’ ask.

Yesterday I was an absolute bastion of productivity. I don’t know how I managed to accomplish it, either, since I got up at 7 a.m. Maybe it was that hour to myself before the rest of the household straggled out of bed.

Most of my work was centered downstairs in the craft store, because there were packages that absolutely needed to go out (and one was particularly challenging to pack), paperwork to be done, and a general post-tornado cleanup involved. I even got a large stack of catalogues stamped and addressed ready to go out today. All I have left to do in that department is type some paperwork into Quickbook so we can figure out our GST return, wait for an order to come in so I can fill 3 pending orders, and move the living room stuff downstairs. 🙂

Yeah, since the walk-in part of the store will be closed for July, we’re putting the couch, a couple chairs and the tv in the classroom area of the store. Darn, remind me to do a floor plan so you know where I’m talking about… It is so much cooler downstairs. Must have something to do with the concrete walls and the dirt banked up on the back side of the house.

Oh, and since I spent the better part of yesterday downstairs, the upstairs looks like no one touched it. Of course, no one did. That must be today’s work, if I get around to it.

I swear, dishes and laundry are my nemesis. My Moriarty, my Joker, my Lucifer in the battle of good housekeeping.

I also have two days to fill out the homeschool forms for three children. This means planning (at least roughly) everything that they’ll all be doing for next year. Now I’m kicking myself for wasting most of Monday and Tuesday. Had a good nap on Tuesday, though, once the kids were out of the house.

I guess all that sleeping caught up with me, because I didn’t get to bed until midnight. Not a lot of moping around on my part, either. Stayed awake through Survivor, too. Ron and I had at least a two hour conversation after the kids went to bed, so that always keeps us up. No, it wasn’t about us. 🙂 We just have to psychoanalyze everyone else.

So I am still a bit tired, but it’s a different tired. I don’t feel quite as brain-dead. And I really felt Mo move this morning. At least I think I did, it was early and I was only half-awake, but I’m pretty sure. Mostly I can hardly feel anything except the usual fluttering. My uterus is doing this lovely tightening thing, kinda like false labour, but not as bad. I figure it does that when he rolls over. 🙂

Oh, and someone rubbed my belly yesterday, so it’s all over now.

Get some cheese. Here’s some whine.

Side note:
I’ve made up a list (aren’t’ you surprised) of Rants and other “articles” I can write about to keep you guys all busy, and to help avoid endless entries like this one. You really didn’t want to read five months of entries like this, didja? Didn’t think so…
Wait until you read our Household Rules. It will include the Bad Word Tax.

There once was a girl who was pregnant.
She started to feel like an elephant.
She cried and whined,
While her hubby felt fine.
And trying to please her, he can’t.

So anyway, here’s how I feel so you’ll know before you ask. Hint: It’s not pretty.

I’m losing weight. Or, more correctly, I’m redistributing what I’ve already got. the scale isn’t going down, but my arms and legs are getting thinner. Maybe I’ll get my engagement ring back on. It’s a size 4 1/2.

Before you get worried, my tummy is growing just fine, thank you. Soon, in a month or so, it will be big and obvious enough for strangers to reach out and caress it against my wishes. I have bouts where I don’t feel like eating, because I feel nauseous at any given time of the day, and bouts where I keep wandering to the fridge to get another piece of fruit or (gasp!) a glass of milk. I don’t like milk, didn’t I tell you that? Ron, sweet man that he is, told me he prayed I would have cravings for *good* food. This weight thingy makes me feel tired.

I look tired, too. You would think after spending ten hours in bed that I’d look good and rested. HA! It’s hard to get comfortable. That leg twitch I mentioned? Apparently, it could be some sort of syndrome, which they say is completely normal. So I wake up a lot. I also need a lot of naps. Like every 3 hours or so…. if I don’t, well, that leads me to the next complaint.

Headaches. Lots of ’em. Not big ones. I’ve occasionally had migraines, but these ones are the overtired sort. The kinds where the back of your neck tenses up and makes you scrunch up until you look like a hunchback or something. If I try to outwit the headache, that usually leads to a teeny bout of dizziness. Apparently, this is also normal. *sigh* It leads to an awful lot of fuzzy headed conversations, though. At least on my end.

In the small blessings department;
The church we’re helping to plant has changed its service times a bit. Instead of 11 a.m. Sunday School and 3 p.m. afternoon service, the Sunday School has been moved to 2 p.m. Now we don’t have to run into Oromocto in the morning, stay over for lunch, and head home for a late supper, wasting the whole day. Now I have all morning to think up supper.

The kids, under Ron’s supervision, cooked supper tonight. Best pizza I’ve had in a while. It was homemade, not takeout. Betcha that’s the first thing you thought of, didn’t ya?


So today I went to town for blood work, the usual normal kind they do to all pregnant women. In discussing our plans, Ron informed me that he would come with us, so I wouldn’t have to drive. Now last time I had blood taken, I still drove. I got them to take it out of my dominant left arm so I could still shift. Anyway, I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

In a way, it is a great thing to have a really good excuse for not doing things yourself. People are so willing to do anything. Considerate, too. I rarely have to lift a laundry basket, get my own snack if someone else is headed into the kitchen, or do anything I don’t really want to. Makes me feel like a queen.

It can also be irritating.

There are times when I really, really want to accomplish something for myself that day, and although you mean well, I really want to do it myself. Just cuz. I am not just a breeding machine, I want to feel useful, like I got something done today. Even if it was only one thing.

Later, I helped Addison prepare for the junior prom. Sure, he’s only in grade 7, but he won’t be there next year, remember? Besides, we don’t normally let him go to evening dances, so this was a little of a Big Deal. No, he didn’t have a date, but still…

He got a little annoyed at me for asking questions like, “Did you wash behind your ears? IN your ears? How about deodorant? You’ll get sweaty with all that dancing..” Finally, he did the one thing which usually works.

“Moooooommm, will you STOP IT ?!?”

Guess he doesn’t dig that from a hole in the ground….*

*expression with similar meaning to “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Longest day of the year (but that may have been yesterday)

Side note:
There’s nothing like having a baby to drive up those hits… thanks also to journal babies.
if you’re new, and want to know whenever I update, drop me an e-mail. My notify list, such as it is, is just an e-mail, usually short, saying I’ve updated. It’s not hard to sign up!

Yesterday my husband ruined a perfectly fine bad mood.

I slept horribly, when at all, because a muscle in my butt kept clenching and spazzing on me. When that died down, it was time for the lone mosquito or two to buzz round my head. I also had some very strange dreams, which I’ve been having a lot lately, and the last one I had before getting Addison up, was one where Meaghan, fro some reason ticked me off. All I remember was I was really mad.

THen I had to get Addison’s lunch ready and couldn’t find any clean containers. Actually, I could, its just the lids that were clean didn’t match.

He wound up forgetting his lunch anyway.

Meaghan woke up sick, Sarah got up grumpy, and Ron went for the “duck and cover” plan. I stomped around the kitchen for a while, barking out orders and trying (unsuccessfully) to organize the chaos. The straw that broke my back was filling the sink for the second time, only to have it drain on me.

The plug in my sink has been broken for… uh…. gee, I guess it’s been more than 6 months. It keeps water in, but just barely and God forbid you knock against the replacement-handle bolt. We had a whole new plug & drain part sitting in a box, but hadn’t put it in yet. It would have made more sense to just buy a new plug, but this thingy was available at the local store, so that’s what we got. And it just sat there.

So I stomped myself outside to ask Ron if I needed to shut the water off to fix the drain, and where was the pipe wrench. He can move pretty fast when he wants to. So he gathered up all we’d need and proceeded to explain by example how to replace the plug. As in, he did it, and I watched.

After it was done, 15 minutes, tops, I said something to the effect of, “If that’s all it took, why didn’t we get it done sooner?” The big tick-off issue I had was it was something I could have easily done myself, and a lot sooner, but I had somehow got the idea that actual plumbing was involved.

I ranted and raved for a few minutes, and Ron just stood there, trying not to laugh at me really, batting his eyelashes and sticking out his lower lip.

It worked, darn it. I hate it when he does that. I’ll skip over the description of all that mushy kissing and hugging.

At my piano lesson, I had practiced so much over the past two weeks, that I really blew away the teacher. Played the songs just about perfect first time round. So that made my day. If ever you need someone to play “When the Saints Go Marching In” you know who to call.

I somehow managed to get enough sleep last night, even after going to bed late and reading until 11:30. It’s the longest day of the year, and already I got more done this morning than I did in all of yesterday. Unfortunately, not a lot of it is immediately noticeable. 🙂 I like lists, so I made at least a half dozen of them, like:

* Things We Need for Mo (a surprisingly short list, mostly clothes, Mom, if you’re reading….),
* Work to be Done on the House Before Mo Gets Here,
* General Homeschooling Objectives for Next Year,
* Things I Need in Town…. you get the idea.

I also spent entirely too much time on the ‘net researching homeschooling info, like disadvantages (I can’t think of any that can’t be overcome, but I want to be prepared when some people ask questions), planning & forms and a new writing curriculum we’d like to try. This also made me think of all the changes I need to add to my homeschool page. I also managed to toss in a load of laundry, cook lunch and supervise a math test and some other work.

Who says moms at home don’t work?

If this is the longest day of the year, I plan on doing as much as I can. Until I crash and burn, anyway. Meet me at 3p.m. for naptime.

free food, puddle jumping and boobs.

Side note:
You have to go visit Travis. Not is he wanting more readers, he’s worth reading. So go. now.
Well, read me first, then go see him.
On the baby front: we’re officially at four months. One month to go to reach the half-way mark. I’d say it was all downhill from there, but it’s not. That last month always feels like two.
Ron is being very helpful, especially by remembering everything I went through before. Did I have these belly pains? Yes, dear. Did food taste this weird? Uh-huh, dear. My milk should start coming in soon, right? uh.. I think it was another month, dear.
See? Anything to help.. whatta man. One of us has to remember all this stuff.

We walked over to Wendy’s the other day, taking our usually shortcut. Underneath our feet, we discovered, as we do every year with surprise, a feast of wild strawberry plants growing, well, like weeds.

The kids and I quickly dropped to our knees and brushed aside leaves to find sweet, delectable berries just about ready for the picking.

They’re small, hard to find, and it takes a lot to fill your hand, but nothing can compare with the sun-warmed sweet taste of a free growing strawberry. We arrived at our neighbour’s with smiles on our faces, and red-stained fingertips.

Speaking of free food, today we planted some more in the garden. Yes, it is terribly late, mostly due to the weather. And trust me, with the veritable heat wave we had today, I would have rather stayed inside.

I make it sound like Ron is a slave driver, when in actuality, we were outside for only an hour this morning, and a good 15 minutes this afternoon.

I kept thinking, as I prepared the taters for planting, how pioneer women had to do things like this on a daily basis AND drop a kid every year or two. I got more tired just thinking about it.

Then I thought to myself, if I actually *were* a pioneer women, I’d be a lot more fit, and used to the work, so it would be a normal day.

I’m a big whiner.

We had just finished planting the beans after an afternoon of trying to beat the heat by napping and staying downstairs. None of us were in the mood for supper. Grey hazy clouds were forming to the northwest, and after a bit, we noticed they were headed towards us. The low rumble of thunder gathered in the distance. Heading inside, we all wished it would rain here and not pass over us.

I swear we live in a weather vortex. I’ve seen it be a nice sunny day, then drive down the road a few miles only to find out it rained. But just in that community. Or it will frost, but only on our garden, not the in-laws. Theirs is higher, so I know that’s a good reason.

Anyway, while I prepared a supper of potato salad, veggies and cold meat, I ran a lukewarm bath. (I would die for a shower!) The thunder rumbled louder, and finally, the rain came crashing down. Smiles broke out on all our faces, and we let the kids out to play as soon as the lightening and thunder rolled south.

They came back in when supper was ready, drenched and actually dirtier than when they left. They inhaled supper and went back out. I finally dragged the girls in, since Addison had cooled off quite enough thank you, and threw them in the tub.

I had to change the water after the first dip.

So what could be better after a day of working semi-hard to provide “free” food for your family, a hot summer’s day followed by cooling rains, a nice bath, and clean sheets just waiting for someone to crawl in?

I should probably do a whole entry on boobs, but here’s a couple stories to amuse you.

Meaghan & I were cuddling and discussing my changing body. “At least I’ll still have my pillows.” she said, wistfully, patting my boobs. I told her how eventually they will fill up with milk and won’t be so soft and squishy anymore. I also explained how milk was stored in breasts, which she thought was pretty cool. She really giggled, though when I explained how Mommy was an exceptional producer and since a baby’s cry would make the mommy’s milk come out (let down), how her own mommy could squirt for distance.

She can’t wait to see.

She also refered to nipples as dimples, which I think sounds much, much better.

Addison stood next to me earlier, and purposely jiggled one of my boobs with his elbow. “Hey, are they ever getting smooshy.” he said. I explained how they’ve always been that way (well, ever since Meaghan was born) and how, when they’re full of milk, they will seem to harden up. He always makes these kinds of comments while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

Ron says all these frank discussions we’re having, along with Mo, make for the best Sex-Ed in the world.

Except now Sarah says she’s never having kids.