It's Been A While ...

... since I posted a poem.  At our most recent trip to the library, oh wait, before I tell you what I found at the library, I must tell you how painful it was to retrieve it.

At our most recent trip to the library, in which Scotty, who normally screams, but wasn't screaming (much), elicited complaints from nearby patrons, a librarian was forced to serve me notice.  Now, I know that Scotty screams very loudly, and that it is painful to many with hearing aids (and some without), as we learned while waiting in line for an HOUR at See's a few weeks ago.  But, in this instance at the library, little Scotty was playing with his truck on the bookshelf right at my feet.  He may have shrieked out of excitement over his truck finding a new mountain (stack of books) to climb, perhaps, but there certainly wasn't enough screaming to amount to anything worth complaining over, such as might occur (and did occur ten minutes later during self-checkout) during a major tantrum during nap time.  So, the librarian approached, and our conversation went like this:

Librarian: (pointing to Scotty at my feet) Is this your baby?
Me: (looking up from my book, wondering why she would be asking me this, except maybe to tell me how cute he is, ha, ha) Yes.
Librarian: Some people are complaining about him screaming.
Me: (I look down at Scotty and try to calculate how long it has been since I last heard him scream.  I come up with, "I don't know."  Not sure how to respond to her, I come up with, "OK.")
***At this point, I would have expected the librarian to leave.  But she just stood there staring at me.  I wasn't sure if she was trying to kick us out (which, by the way, I think is not allowed under terms of screaming, or else she would have done it).***
Me: (wondering what else I can say to this lady who won't leave and who won't quit staring at me) OK?
Librarian: Well, you know, some people are trying to study, and they can't concentrate when he screams.
Me: (I understand the message, but am still unclear what she is asking me to do besides leave the library, which, as I mentioned before, happens about ten minutes after this conversation in a way that is louder than I have ever before experienced.) I'm sorry, I don't have a muzzle. (You can quote me on that.)
Librarian: (looks a little uncomfortable)
Me: He's just a baby.  I really don't have any control over when he lets out a scream.
Librarian: (I guess she figured we weren't getting anywhere, so she finally decided to leave. Whew!)

OK, so back to the real reason we were at the library.  I was looking for a book for Grant about volcanoes because he loves them so much.  By happenstance, instead of the volcano section, I found the books of funny poems for children section.  Oh, how I did have fun (until Scotty and I were so rudely interrupted).  I grabbed a handful and we left.

I always preview poetry before reading it to Nicole.  That way, she gets the best of the best.  I found one poem in a book called For Laughing Out Loud, edited by Jack Prelutsky.  I think the poem is better suited to adults, and since it really did make me laugh out loud (mostly because it reminded me of something my dad might write if he were a poet), I'm sharing it with you here.

Monday's Child Is Red and Spotty by Colin McNaughton
Monday's child is red and spotty,
Tuesday's child won't use the potty.
Wednesday's child won't go to bed.
Thursday's child will not be fed.
Friday's child breaks all his toys,
Saturday's child makes an awful noise.
And the child that's born on the seventh day
Is a pain in the neck like the rest, OK!

Laugh. Every. Day!

Liberty Belles

Nicole is part of a book club called Liberty Belles.  It's 10 girls, ages 7 to 10 that meet twice monthly to discuss an American Girl series book.  For the past two months, we have been reading about Felicity, a nine-year-old girl who grew up in colonial America.  In the third book, Felicity wore a beautiful blue gown to a ball at the governor's palace.  

This is the inspiration for our copycat costume:

Here is Nicole all gussied up like Felicity.  

She was so happy to walk carefully around while holding her petticoats up.  She twirled and curtsied and acted like a proper young lady.  She asked for a makeup job, and I couldn't resist her.  The whole ordeal aged her a bit, I'm afraid. 

At the book club meeting, Nicole presented a narration of the fourth book, Happy Birthday, Felicity!  Nicole really loved dressing like Felicity and playing a guitar for the group.  This book club is the sweetest thing ever!  The girls recreate/experience what they read.  They've had horses for guests, formal tea parties, Virgina Reel dances, shrewsberry cakes (that they made themselves!), and cross stitch lessons (which Nicole loves, and she is almost done with her first "sampler"), just to name a few events.  We only have two books left in the Felicity series, then we'll be reading about Josefina.  Maybe we'll make another costume ...

I Also Make Bread

Well, I don't make bread.  I enslave poor, defenseless children to make it.

 Carly said she had never made bread before, but she's such a happy-go-lucky girl that she's willing to try anything new.  And what do you know that it wasn't "almost as good as Portuguese bread" (quote from Clint).  Actually, I would consider that a high compliment.  Especially considering that Portuguese bread is almost as good as French bread (not the gross stuff from Wal-mart, but real French bread, from France!). 

 Nicole helps me with the bread all of the time, but only with mixing the ingredients.  I told the girls that they're both old enough to learn to form the bread for the pans.  Turns out that part is more fun than measuring flour!

Thanks for the yummy food, girls!  Keep up the good work, and remember what my wise mama taught me: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.  (If that ain't the truth!)

No Rest

Clint has a long history of talking about work in his sleep.  Usually he is very serious and acting in a way I would expect to see him at work.  It makes me feel sorry for him that he can't even get a break from it in his dreams (or would you call that nightmares?).  One night he was yelling at me like an incompetent nurse to get him [fill-in-the-blank for a bunch of tools and medications] to save a dying patient.  He was getting really frustrated with me because we were "losing this man!"  I try to convince him that he's really sleeping, and that no one is dying.  He never believes me, but he eventually gives up on me helping him and goes back to sleep.  I usually commit the story to memory so I can recite it (with much laughter) the next morning. He rarely remembers these middle-of-the-night, lively discussions. 

Tonight, Clint came home from work looking especially tired.  He laid on the couch for a few minutes before dinner.  Then he went upstairs and laid on the bed after dinner.  He was still in his scrubs and had his legs from the knee down dangling over the edge.  He looked like he was just taking a quick cat-nap.  The boys had been in our room watching a movie, and apparently they didn't disturb Clint's slumber in the slightest.  After the movie, I turned the TV and lights off.  I walked out the door and started down the stairs when Clint called me back into the room.  I returned and he said, "Just so you know, I have an endotracheal tube in the house."  He said it in a way like, "Just so you know, there's a giant poisonous snake in the garage."  Or, "Just so you know, the gun sitting on the floor in the closet is loaded."  I thought it was an odd statement, of course, but he did bring home a really cool laryngeal mask airway device from an anesthesia conference last weekend.  He knows I like to see his gadgets, so I thought there was a possibility that he really did bring home an endotracheal tube. 

His eyes were open (they usually are), and I just stared at him, wondering which of the two possibilities were more likely.  "Really?  An endotracheal tube?"  Doubt set in, and my face betrayed me.

He looked at me in all seriousness and said, "Don't even ask me if I'm awake because I am. And I do have an endotracheal tube in the house."

Now I started to get suspicious.  "OK, Mr. Wide-Awake, where is the endotracheal tube?"

I'm going to remember this tactic in the future.  He paused, searched for logic and then said, "OK, I guess I don't have one. ...  But I am awake."

Yeah, whatever.  Ha, ha, ha.

I Make A LOT of Cookies

A safe estimate would be a batch weekly.  Not a dozen weekly, but a full recipe weekly, which is roughly three dozen cookies after we eat all the dough we can stand.  Now, put that thought on hold while I tell you about my dishes.  Hang in there, it will all come together.

I don't like to lie in bed (on nights when I don't immediately pass out when I put my head to the pillow) and listen to the rumblings of my dishwasher (or washing machine or dryer).  It's quirky, I know.  You would think that I would lie in bed (hearing those noises), and think to myself, "I am so lucky to have machines do my work while I sleep."  But I don't.  I'm spoiled, I realize, and I like to sleep in a really quiet house.  A house that can only get as quiet as the traffic on the nearby busy road (so I am told, although I've never noticed before).  So after dinner, I load the dishwasher and set it on a timer so that it runs while I am sleeping, not while I am trying to fall asleep (again, in the rare event that it's problematic).  At the end of the dishwashing cycle, our dishwasher has a loud, annoying beep.  I don't normally hear the beep because I almost always run the dishwasher in the middle of the night.  Occasionally, on days when I have more than my fair share of dishes piled up, I run a day-time load.  And every time I hear the beep, I think, "What's that?  What is beeping?"  And it takes me a few seconds to realize that it's the dishwasher.

So a few days ago, I was having one of those I-can't-believe-how-many-dirty-dishes-there-are-holy-cow-we-have-no-clean-plates-or-spoons kind of days.  So I thought if I started the dishwasher right after dinner, maybe I could get the second load in before I went to bed.  (Don't hold your breath, I'm just going to tell you right now that the second load didn't get in until the next morning.)  Anyway, the big kids were in bed on time (sweet things), while Scotty (Who has managed to con his parents into letting him go to sleep whenever he feels like it? That's a big S-C-O-T-T-Y.) was up with me working on the computer.  I mean, I was working on the computer.  Scotty was playing with cars at the small table next to me.  Side note, but I don't think I've mentioned how much Scotty likes cars.  It's really more of an obsession.  And it has extended to trucks, airplanes, motorcycles, trains (especially), and pretty much anything that has an engine and the ability to make a lot of noise and draw attention.  So, the dishwasher cycle for the first load ended and we all heard the loud, annoying BEEP!

Scotty stopped dead in his tracks (pun intended).  He abandoned the cars and ran full steam ahead (ha, ha, will the analogy fun never end?) toward the oven chirping out, "Cook-ie! Cook-ie!"  When he reached the oven, he bent down low, put his nose to the glass and covered the sides of his face next to his eyes so he could get a good look inside.  Dejected, he stood up, turned toward me and said, "All gone.  Cook-ie, all gone." The poor little guy reminded me of a dog who responds so obediently to a whistle.  Except it was a baby who had been trained to think that every time a buzzer goes off in the kitchen, it means a fresh plate of cookies is on its way to his tummy.

I almost whipped up a batch of cookies right then.  I didn't, of course, because I was so tired.  But I did whip up that batch first thing the next morning.  Then I ran a second load of dishes.

Nicole at the Science Fair

We didn't do the traditional project where you try out a hypothesis (although, looking back, we should have -- and we will next year).  But we did have fun!  We found this fun book, It's Not Magic, It's Science! and demonstrated several of the experiments found therein.  I drew the letters on the poster for Nicole, and she chose the color scheme and painted it.  It turned out a lot better than I thought it would.

Nicole explained her project to the audience, and then demonstrated this styrofoam cup trick where you try to stand on one cup (which crushes under your weight), and then you distribute your weight over 12 cups, which magically allows you to stand (and even jump) on without even a crack.

Grant had fun at the science fair, too.  Forever he sat in front of this Litmus test display.  He was waiting for something cool to happen, I think.  He also liked the display on gravity and volcanoes.  Next year we'll get him his own table to show off.  He did explain our experimental potato growing process that he and Nicole were working on together.  I was not surprised that he understood the content, but I was surprised that he would actually explain it to adults.

We were at the fair for about three hours, and Grant started to get bored.  And you know, there's no cure for boredom like destroying science fair projects at the science fair.  I had to get it cleaned up before Nicole discovered it.  Whew!  That was a close call.

A lot of kids brought their pets and showed us tricks.  The coolest one was a pair of rats make their way through a maze, which had been decorated with Barbie furniture, wallpaper and the like.  We also saw a giant tortoise, which had no tricks, but was very cool to look at.  Nicole thought it would be boring to have a giant tortoise "because they don't do anything," but we did learn that they can run away from home and find their way back again two months later.

For some reason, perhaps due to lack of fun in other subjects, Nicole has decided that science is her favorite school subject.  It was a great evening with food, science and friends.  We're already thinking about next year's fair!

BIG

Grant, for the first time that I can remember, actually thought about something that he wanted to buy (when he wasn't at a store), pondered it for a while, and then decided to buy it.  He used his birthday gift card to buy the thing (a scooter like Nicole's, i.e., two wheels), which he thought was so cool.  He even swiped the card through the machine.  What a mini adult!

All this growing up has, perhaps, made Grant want to fulfill his responsibilities as an older brother.

Is Grant enjoying this?  Maybe?

Nicole has also grown up a bit.  Now she's riding a "big girl" bike.  She can barely touch the ground when she stops, but after a little practice, she's comfortable riding it fairly fast. 

She finally gave up her 12-incher when a boy from P.E. asked her why her bike was so small ("in a mean way, Mom!").  Imagine the surprise/shock (dare I say, envy?) of the other children when she brought a 20-inch bike to class.  It was the biggest one there!