It's Good to Plan Ahead

We are planners. Both George and I are always making plans. We don't fly by the seat of our pants very well. Admittedly George manages to act out his plans much more often than I do. I tend to plan and not accomplish. Christin has definitely inherited the planning gene. I often say, "Christin, it's time to do schoolwork" to which she responds, "I had planned on playing first." Only time will tell if she will turn her plans to actions or will just always be planning.
So it's not surprising that she made a new plan for her life. One that includes college and moving out (she's come so far, sniff, sniff:) So here it is:
1. Go to Villanova. She made this decision based based on the strictest criteria. They were close to home and had a cat has a mascot. Frankly, I've heard worse reasons to pick a school.
2. Move to Disney World and become a vet at Animal Kingdom.
3. Ride rides on her days off.

Frankly, I'm hoping it works out.

When Homeschooling Goes Hillariously Wrong

There was something on the couch yesterday.  It was blue and all over the cushins.  Because of the color I was fairly confident it was not poop (which is always a scary possibility) so I bent down to give it a wiff (I know, I am so brave).  It had a distinctly minty smell which told me that some one dared to leave the bathroom while brushing their teeth.  I decided to ask anyway, "Does anyone know what's on the couch?"  Shockingly no one knew.   Then Christin had an flash of brilliance, or so she seemed to think, "I'm pretty sure it's a plague from God."  Oh yes, how could I have forgotten that possibility?  Now I remember:  water to blood, frogs everywhere, flies everywhere, children's bright blue toothpaste on the couch, locusts, darkness, death.  It all makes perfect sense.
Later on I was playing Pharoh and the children were the Israelites (yup we are super weird and dorky).  Anyway, I was ordering them in my most Pharohy voice to clean my fields (aka the playroom) so I could see all my beautiful land.  Christin jumped right on board and started cleaning.  Lindsey however, made her best brat face, looked up at me and said (in that snotty tone usually reserved for eleven year old girls) "No way, Hosanna!"  Somehow it didn't have the same umph that Jose seems to have.  Who knew?
Homeschooling allows my children more creativity when sinning.  That's why we do it.

A Family Dictionary

It bothers me when people adopt their childrens words for things and create their own language.  However, lately I find myself doing the same thing.  I think it's Lindsey's fault.  I'm not sure if you noticed but she's pretty stinkin cute and when she makes up her own words it's hard to resist saying them.  Here's an example of some of the words we've been using:
"oushy squoshy" = silly putty
"mooolk"   = milk (I think this one is pretty smart)
"nilky"  = thats an old one from Christin originally meaning milk but now refering to all liquid
and my favorite:
"smarshmellow" = marshmellow

Soon I'll be talking in a widdle, biddle baby voice and repeating everything twice twice.  Don't you love how motherhood changes people?

Momma called the doctor and the doctor said. . .get a DS.

My children have a doctors kit.  You know, the kind with tweezers, a stethescope, play bandages etc.  However, they don't really seem to know what it's all for.  Uncle Joel bought Lindsey the doctors kit for her birthday at the end of July, a few weeks later the blood pressure taker cuff (I'm pretty sure that's the medical name) detached from the tube and air pump thingy (sorry if I'm confusing you with the medical terms).  Shortly after this piece broke I caught Lindsey walking around with the tube in her mouth pumping air in and sucking spit out.  I said what I say about 392 times a day, "take that out of your mouth please."  She looked up at me horrified and said, "this is my breathing tube, I'm Baby Jack!"  I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  I think I've done both several times since this is now how that tube is used on a daily basis.

Today Lindsey was "sick" and Dr. Christin was caring for her.  I observed her taking her tempature, pulling out a splinter, giving a shot, and listening to her heart beat; all normal stuff.  Then she handed her the pager, which I found odd, until I heard her say, "Just lie here and play with this DS.  You'll feel better soon." 

Fisher Price, it sounds like it's time to phase out the pager and replace it with the age old healer, a Nintendo DS.


PS.  My children don't even have a DS!

This is My Life

I'm not complaining

I'm just sayin

There's something poetic about the hot chocolate splattered vacuum in the background.

I woke up this morning and decided I needed 15 more minutes to be happy.  It worked and Supermom showed up.  Supermom is my super hero alter ego.  She gets all the school work done, plays horseys, convinces the children to eat all their veggies, does laundry, takes the children outside to play in the snow and then vacuums while the children happily sip hot chocolate.  Unfortunately she doesn't visit very often.  It's usually her evil counterpart, Stupidmom, who stuffs her in the closet, locks the door, and tortures everyone around her.

Anyway, after Supermom served the hot chocolate and vacuumed all the floors her slippy sidekick decided to bring her her mug and it's leftover contents.  Unfortunately Slippy slips a lot and this time she slipped off the bench and dropped Supermoms ceramic Sleeping Beauty mug.   Happily no bones or mugs (amazingly) were broken.

That's life in the day of a super hero.