Confession

My favorite restaurant in our new town is the gas station.

There's a local chain called Stripes that was bought out buy a guy who owns the Laredo Taco Company. Each store contains a short order grill for burgers and also has a window with about 2 dozen items under heat lamps.

It started with the jalapeno corn dogs that are 2 for 99¢. They are just the right amount of spicy. Then I started going there for a burger at lunch, as my school is far from any fast food establishments. They butter their buns and put them on the grill while the meat sizzles. Mmmmmm . . .

As their menu expanded, so did I. You can get any entree and two sides for 3.99. A 32 oz Diet Coke is 99¢ and brings my lunch total to $5.32. It's usually enough for two or three days.

My very favorite thing on the way home from church is to stop for the half rotisserie chicken, wedge fries and mashed potatoes. We come home, add some green beans and salad and split it five ways. During the school year, I'd go for a half chicken for lunch on Monday. Eat the thigh and one of the sides. Debone the rest and stick it in the lounge fridge. Tuesday, I'd eat the breast and the other side. Wednesday, I'd bring a tortilla, salsa and beans and have a chicken fajita. (It always comes with a little bell pepper and onion that are grilled to perfection!) and Thursday I'd bring a bowl of greens and cover it with whatever chicken was left.

No matter what I ate on Friday, it was always a disappointment.

So I just ran Dixie over to a friend's to play and went in for some enchiladas. I was thrilled to discover they have branched out and now have both red AND green enchiladas. I'm a bit disappointed at the first bite when I realize they use tomatillos instead of chiles verdes for the sauce, but they are worthy of culinary respect and will easily last me three meals.

You wish you had my gas station, don't you?

I just woke up

to the words, "No fair, Charlie! I can't spit that far!"

Then Charlie responded, "Miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me!"

Before he knew it, I ran in and gave him a kiss. He has now revised his taunting to, "Miss me, miss me, now you gotta imbisibile kiss me!"

Dang. He's on to me.

If you need a bathroom coach

Charlie is your man. Not only is his bathroom time a constant monologue, he is willing to accompany you to the bathroom and offer advice. Examples include:

"Pee is easy. It's just pee. It's not hard."

"Dat poop is being tricky, but I know it can make it out."

"Dest stand dere and hold it. Da pee knows where it's supposed to go and it will go dere if you just stand dere for a little while."

I wish he'd been there coaching me on this morning. Instead, he was out back in the sand box with Dixie, where the following occurred:

Dixie was building a sand church.
Charlie wanted to put toys in the church.
Dixie said he couldn't.
Charlie said, "You're not part of this family," (because that's what she always yells when she's mad at me).
Dixie told him he could 'build his own damn castle'.
Charlie spit on her.
Dixie threw sand in his eyes and mouth.
Melody looked up from her chapter book long enough to observe, "I don't think Charlie wanted that sand in his eyes."

It was a lovely, long morning.

So far, so good. Even with a wedding thrown in.

No one has been discovered roaming through traffic; I haven't left anyone at the grocery store. Every appointment has been kept and I even successfully navigated a wedding this evening with three kids in tow.

In the years he's been unemployed, I'd gotten quite spoiled. I haven't mowed the lawn, taken out trash, emptied the litter box. I've been able to go out with friends on a whim, run out for a diet coke or grocery shop alone. Having them all along, everywhere I go has been the hardest part.

Yet I once had 3 kids, 3 and under by myself for 13 hours a day and never let that slow me down. We've just gotten out of practice.

Melody had gymnastics day camp 8-5 all week, so that helped. Tuesday we went to the library, took a friend to the park, had lunch out and went to a petting zoo thing they had at the mall that turned out lame and so we shopped instead. On the way home, we got Melody, got Sonic drinks, took the friend home and then I couldn't collapse and let daddy take over. I made dinner, mediated disputes, did dishes, got everyone to bed, folded laundry, mopped floors.

Wednesday I was slightly less ambitious, still, by the time I took them to church for me to teach Charlie's class I was not in the volunteering mood. Thursday was the hardest, because I had several things I needed to return to several stores and Charlie had therapy. I also took Charlie and Dixie to get their eyes checked. Dixie needs reading glasses and, praise God, we do not need to try to keep glasses on Charlie's little head.

Friday would have gone far more smoothly had Melody, Charlie and I felt well. I warned Dixie that she either needed to get sick or prepare to be in charge. She gave me the strangest look.

Today I awoke with a sense of dread: Wedding Day. And Room Cleaning Day. After a morning of scrubbing and scolding, their rooms were tidy and shiny just in time to get them tidy and shiny. Melody screamed through the entire hair washing and Charlie kept spraying me with the shower head while I was scrubbing his noggin.

By the time I got them primped I looked like I'd just gotten home from a wild after party. I put makeup on and got dressed quickly, afraid they would undo while I was trying to updo, and headed to the convenience store.

If you ever take three kids to a wedding, I highly recommend M&Ms.

The rest of the ride was filled with admonitions. Upon arrival, my date took my arm and I escorted him to our seats, sisters in tow. They all sat gracefully and with dignity in their seats as I prepared the M&Ms. For every minute that went by without a wiggle or a word, they got one tiny morsel of chocolate delight.

A bag and a half later, we'd reached the recessional with one minor deviation from the script. During the vows Charlie loudly asked, "Mommy? Do snakes like you?"

Yes. Yes, they do.

some odd changes

Dowlan has been deployed to distant lands for an undetermined amount of time.
Er, not quite.

Dowlan moved in with an older woman.
True, but not really it either.

Dowlan is off to save the day, leaving me to mop up the pee.
Closer.

I'm having a hard time figuring out how to explain this one, especially considering I'd like to respect the privacy of others.

See, we have a branch of the family that we're not related to, but have come to think of as our own. We have several, but one offshoot in particular that we're close to. The head of this family is an elderly woman with dementia, who has two disabled adult children.

For the last two-and-a-half years, 'Granny' has been assisted by live-in companions to help her pass the day, help with meds, make sure she eats, etc. Recently, she made a plan with her daughter to go halvsies on a new house in a retirement community and her caregivers responded to that plan by moving out without notice and taking what they wanted.

It is six+ months before the new house will be done. The daughter is not able to care for her; paying non-live-in caregivers round-the-clock would bankrupt anyone. So Dowlan has gone to stay with her for awhile.

At least the next ten days, perhaps the next ten months.

There are quite a few pluses to this plan: the pay is excellent, it's not a far drive, it's something he's well suited to do, he needs a job and she does make for good company. The kids are all in school full-time this year, I have another month before I have to show up to work and we can go visit at any time.

It's just going to be odd. And hard. But I remind myself that we can do hard things.

But I remind myself that daddies frequently go off to work--they travel for business, they work in another town for awhile, they go off to war. At least we have the benefit of it being nearby and, hey, he's not getting shot at. We can end it at any time, any reason, no hard feelings.

He left Monday morning and I must say we're holding up quite well. I've been trying to do silly, fun things to help them not notice that the silly, fun parent is away for a bit. This morning I jumped on the trampoline with the kids and this evening I made Peace & Carrots, fondue-style for dinner.

Other than the parts of yesterday where Dixie dislodged her orthodontia and Charlie peed on the carpet, things are going well. I steam-cleaned the carpet yesterday, took her to the dentist this morning . . . we march on.

____


Peace and Carrots: I took small glass bowls and put dipping sauces in them--fruit dip, alfredo, marinara, ranch--had a larger plate of Things On Sticks to dip in them. I used baby carrots to make the shape of a peace sign on the plate to section off the meatballs, fruits, cheese cubes, etc.

It was silly and required little effort.

Passive Aggressive Prayer Time

Charlie: Tank you God for everyting dat I love. And I don't love Real Kisses.

Dixie: Thank you God for all the people that love me and that I love them. And thank you for their hugs and kisses because their Real Kisses show me that they love me.

Melody: Dear God, thank you for this beautiful day and that I got to go to church with my family. Thank you for this meal and for the time we have to spend together. Be with us all as we learn to love you more and love each other more. (slipping into Charlie voice) Tank you God for everting dat I love. And I love Real Kisses. Help Charlie to learn to love Real Kisses. It's the only thing I ask from You.

Really, Mel?

We got home from getting our new glasses about five hours before bedtime. In that span of time, she lost them at least ten times.

She keeps wearing them upside down, claiming that the entire world appears upside down when she does this. Dixie wants to try and Melody says, 'Oh, it won't look that way for you. They're not yours. If you had glasses for your eyes, they would do it, but they have to be made special for your eyes."

Dixie is not sure if she should believe this.

Now Dowlan has the kids at the park. I hope the glasses return in one piece. I am doing absolutely nothing. Having 'all summer long' to get things brings out the procrastinator in me in the worst way possible.

Eh, I think I'm just cranky. Charlie has started wetting the bed again. About three o'clock this morning, I was up peeling wet footed jammies off his shivering, stinky form. He's also started waiting until the very last minute to go in the daytime and not always making it. I so thought I was done with other people's bodily fluids.

How do we look?

I lost my glasses last Wednesday. I know they're in the house, but a week's worth of searching has proved fruitless. Glassless. Whatever.

I know the surefire way to find them is to get new ones, so that's exactly what I did. And, while I was at it, I dragged Melody along for the ride.

Turns out her eyes are worse than mine. Ooops.

We'll get there. Getting ours done was work enough. It turns out that making an appointment means nothing if the doctor and staff would rather go to lunch than check your eyes. It also turns out that having insurance does you no good if the places listed on their site won't take it. Or if you call them to ask what to do and the person gives you the wrong advice.

So here are our lovely, unreimbursable glasses.



And now Dixie's green eyes of envy are demanding exams of their own. Sure thing, kid. Just give me time to recover from this weeks' nine medical appointments and copays.

This has the makings of a good conspiracy

My father is Scoutmaster of a Boy Scout troop. One of their fundraisers is a flag service--people in the community give some amount of money every year in exchange for an American flag being put up in their yard every official flag flying day of the year. (There are quite a few more than one might think.)

Yesterday, dressed in his Scout uniform, with other Boy Scouts and Dowlan in tow, they go from yard to yard, all over town, erecting flags. They notice an orange-bagged paper in each yard, near the curb. As they work, they move the bags up to the porches in order to make it easier for people to get what they assume is a newspaper.

It's a bit different than their regular newspaper, but it is a holiday and, presumably, is a free extra addition to drum up readership and celebrate the Fourth of July.

Nearing the end of their morning, they find one located in the center of the street. Unable to determine which yard it belongs to, they decide to open it up and see what is inside. On one side is facts about the Declaration of Independence.

On the other side? Promotional materials for the Ku Klux Klan.
The rest of the morning was spent un-doing their good turn for the day.

Here comes the Pizza Girl

We're all in a wedding tonight. Well, not Dowlan. He was going to officiate the ceremony, but we realized that, if I'm matron of honor and Dowlan's preaching, there's no one to chase after Charlie when he decides to run naked through the woods in the ceremony. Papa's in South Carolina and won't make it to the wedding. Oma and Grandma simply don't run.

Last night at the rehearsal, we tried to explain to Charlie that his job is to help Aunt Jackee get married and to practice so he can get married someday. He's very worried about 'gwowing up and gettin mawwied' and has expressed many times that he has to be 'big enuff. I got to be nine to be gwon up and get mawwied.'

Finally convinced that he cannot get married, he has a new goal in mind: to marry a Pizza Girl. 'Dat way, when I get hungwee, I can tell her and she can go make me a pizza in the oven.'

There are worse criteria.

Charlie's couture for the wedding is also a source of great amusement. He's wearing black slacks, a black vest, a gween shirt, a bolo tie and cowboy boots. Two weeks ago, the bride brought the boots over to make sure they fit and he was off and running. That night he wanted to sleep with them on; daddy's hard-won compromise was that he would sleep with them sitting six inches in front of his face, so that they would be the first thing seen in the morning.

His first words the next morning were "Can I wear my cowboy boots now?"

For two weeks, he has clomped and dragged around in them. They're so heavy that he fatigues from the effort and goes barefoot. I think he likes them because he can put them on by himself AND they make him taller. The sound effect helps as well.

Last weekend he tried on his clothes. Once buttoned, he kicked up his boot with a fist pump in the air, announcing, "I'm FANCY!!!"

Later in the week, he explained to my uncle Darrell Lee, "I'm a boy who likes to be fancy, but they won't let me have a dress."

Uncle replied, "Don't tell your mother, she has plenty to worry about as it is."

Fancy dress and wedding dreams aside, he's not too keen on the part of the wedding where he has to stand there looking pretty. But he's practicing for his Pizza Girl--hopefully that motivation will get us through this night. A boy's got to have a goal in life . . .