MOS's Third Birthday: a Quick Review

All righty, people, I have explained before that it was never my intention to have children with sequential birthdays. I think perhaps that things like that have been abolished by the Geneva Convention, but I'm not sure. At any rate, MOS had a birthday a few weeks ago; I have just now recovered enough to post pictures of it. I'll make it quick. Because GG1's birthday is in eleven days. Please, send help.

We started the day with a tickle fest, courtesy of Grandpa.

 

Then Mama's Widdle Man poured his own milk in his cereal and didn't spill. Much.

 

Then Key and Mamoo bathed GG3 in the kitchen sink because she smelled a bit off, like cheese that's squatted in the fridge for too long. 

Then MOS put on his Transformers costume and opened up a whole mess of presents.  Thank goodness Nana bought him that costume because it was getting mighty awkward watching him flounce around in a pretty pretty princess dress. Now he has an appropriate costume and can stab at people with his light saber with pride.

Then we admired the cake(s). A lot of cake. Nana went perhaps a wee bit overboard with the whole balls theme. The only thing not represented was a hockey puck. But I guess that's not a ball, so never mind. The cakes were mighty tasty, though. As well as adorable.

Both of MOS's great grandmothers came to the party, which was really great for all of us. What a blessing for my children to have two great grandmothers. Plus, they each came loaded down with presents so that made MOS happy. And they also think that every thing that the children do is precious and adorable, so that makes the kids and their parents happy.

Then we sang while MOS stared at the candle in a confused manner. He was a bit shaky on the whole birthday party etiquette, but his sisters set him straight and the song/blow out candle/everybody cheers process was completed. 

And then my grandmother threatened us all with a knife and we went home. The end. See you in eleven days for GG1's birthday.

Housekeeping and Knitting

I have a complicated relationship with housekeeping. Well, I guess it can only be a relationship if both parties participate, and since one of the parties, namely moi, does not participate, I guess it's not a relationship but a bad situation.

I have friends who clean their houses. Really well. Like, baseboards and grout lines and refrigerator drawers get cleaned. Regularly. And then there's my version of cleaning: if my feet, or the feet of the dog, stick to the floor, I clean it. Maybe. If the kids feet stick to it, oh well. It's probably their feet that are sticky and not the floor. So I make them go outside and clean their feet off in the grass. If the refrigerator smells so bad when I open it that I fear something has died in it, I consider cleaning it but most likely will simply open the door, toss in some baking soda, and shut the door quickly. Toilets do get cleaned weekly, but that's only because the baby has a bad habit of slurping potty water off her fingers at inopportune moments and I want her to maybe not die of dysentery.

My house is not disgusting, but it's not clean either. My kids help me clean most days, so you can only imagine how well that goes. This morning, I wanted my older girls to vacuum the front room rugs and sweep under the couches. The sweeping went fine, but when GG1 got out the vacuum, things began to go south. Well, north, I guess, since they used the vacuum nozzle to suck their hair up into giant 80's bouffants. Apparently GH taught them this cute trick. I heard the vacuum running and assumed that meant the floors were getting cleaner. I went in to check on them when I heard girlish peals of laughter and was not terribly surprised when two tiny Cyndi Laupers met me at the door, hair frothing around their heads, while the vacuum lay overturned on the rug, aimlessly sucking up nothing.

Tonight I wanted to clean the shower, which hasn't been cleaned since the Reagan administration. I got the girls occupied in the living room, gave MOS my phone to play Angry Chicken, and put GG3 in her bedroom with toys. I was interrupted by the children approximately twenty-seven times while trying to scrub the shower and then GG3 came in the bathroom and wet on the floor because I had either forgotten to put a diaper on her or she took it off. Super. Needless to say, I have reasons for not cleaning very often. It's very difficult, I'm not good at it, and it's just plain old not fun.

However, I do knit. What does this have to do with housekeeping, you might ask? I consider housekeeping to be a rather fruitless undertaking. If I dust today, I move my arm back and forth on horizontal surfaces, ridding them of dust. If I dust every week, say, it's the same movement, same energy, same effort, same result. And if I only dust once every month, or every other month, same movement, same energy, etc. So, I dust once a month. Sometimes more, most times less. Why waste all that energy on dusting when I could be knitting? Knitting is also the same movement, over and over. Right needle through the stitch on the left hand needle, yarn wrapped around right hand needle, pull the stitch through, old one jumps off, WOW a new stitch! Wheee! Progress! So even though knitting is made up of hundreds, nay, thousands of stitches all made the same way, it is progressive and I have something to show for it. If I dust every day or every week, I don't have anything to show for it, except maybe a wicked case of tennis elbow and perhaps an allergy flare up. I mean, the dust will be back. Maybe not tomorrow, but definitely in a few days. And you won't even be able to tell that I dusted in the first place. But knitting....after I get done making that knit stitch a million times, I'll have a sock! Or a sweater! Or a hat! Or possibly a knitted thong! (you're welcome for that little visual)

Those of you who enjoy housekeeping, please, do keep it up. If nothing else, I can come over and not feel so grimy when I hang out with you. You can keep your scrub brushes and cleaning solutions and mops and brooms and whatever else you use to make your house sparkling clean. I'll take my knitting needles, some really luscious yarn I just got, you won't believe how soft it is, and I'm going to sit myself down in the midst of clutter that is my house and knit a spell. The children will probably vault off the couch and spill applesauce on the floor, which the dog will lick up just fine, thankyouverymuch. I hope the baby has on a diaper because I don't feel like mopping right now. I've got a sock to knit.

Mama's Other Loves

We are not just a kid household here. I have already posted pics of my noble steed, but here are some of my other animal loves. I have always been a dog lover; I got my first dog when I was a mere slip of a girl. My dad went to the shelter with strict instructions to get a tiny fluffy white dog that my mom had seen. He returned with the ugliest, skinniest, nastiest black puppy that has ever drawn breath. He claimed that the white one had a greater shot of being adopted than the ugly one he brought home. And the ugly one was about to be euthanized. What a softie. I named her Buttercup, which suited her poorly. She did not improve in looks as she grew older; in fact, she became uglier.

This doggie is our current doggie, Penny. She is a smooth-coated collie and probably the best dog I could ever ask for. She is mild, quiet, and most of all, not terribly bright. She is so dim that she doesn't know to bark at strangers or if there were people stealing everything out of our house. She doesn't even come to the door when we get home. Cats? That's another story. She'll bark her fool head off at them. I guess they are more threatening than strangers.

My stepdad calls her Nose....the kids call her Beaky. Nevertheless, she is an angel of a dog. She also does not growl or snap at the children, no matter what the offense. Penny takes everything in stride, from being dressed up in a bonnet and cape, to being forced to run beside the Barbie Jeep as it tools around the back yard, slowly, to being kissed all over her long schnozzle.

Penny doesn't know any tricks, but she can do the following: go potty outside and allow the children to walk her on a leash without pulling them down and jumping on them. That, my friends, qualifies her as a winner in my book. She also eats all the food off the carpet that is dropped during mealtimes.

I am a cat person. Sorry. I know it's painful to be friends with me now, but there you go. This is Mama's Precious Angel, Perdita. I got him and his dearly departed sister a few weeks after GH and I got married. He was a tiny little kitten. Now he is a big fat Bubba of a cat. But he is my darling kitty man and I shall not entertain any insults about his size. He talks to me constantly in his scritchy scratchy kitty voice: up, down, in, out, food, water, pet me, not there, here...he meows and rowrs and fusses at me all day. He sleeps in a cat carrier at night in the laundry room because if given freedom in the house, he sleeps on my chest and talks to me all night, and that is not restful. Perdita comes when I call him, no matter where he is or what he's doing. He can do a few tricks, even, although he is getting too old to jump through a hula hoop.

As you can see, he is a remarkable cat. You can't tell? Just looks like a normal tabby to you? Oh, well, just trust me. He is. I have another cat that is clearly from the devil. She engages in the following disagreeable activities: pooping and peeing in the house, despite the presence of a clean litter box, killing squirrels and songbirds by the hundreds, walking on the counters, and scratching up my furniture. I don't have any pictures of her. You can't capture pure evil on film. Perdita does none of those disagreeable activities. The worst thing he's ever done is tear open the bag of cat food before I pour it in the plastic container. And I forgave him for that. Oh, he also begs at the dinner table, but I enable him because I routinely feed him from the table. Keep your opinions to yourself, please. He is Mama's Precious Angel and if he wants a bit of pasta or a smidgen of chicken, who am I to deny him?

Another reason Perdita is Mama's Precious Angel: he is a lap kitty for everyone. Even MOS, who is not exactly gentle or calm while holding Mr. Fuzzy Pants. Perdita also loves dogs and snuggles up to Penny whenever he can. He does not mind being tugged on or pulled or stroked too hard or having his fur ruffled. Dress-up is okay as long as it's not too tight but he has not yet consented to ride in a baby doll stroller. Maybe next year when he's older and even lazier than now. I refuse to consider a future without that cat; he is almost twelve years old but I am in denial of his aging. Well, I have to go now. Perdita wants Mommy to come sit down and hold him. I can tell because he's got that look on his face that says, "Come, Mother, and balm yourself with a television show whilst stroking my soft fur. What a delightful afternoon we shall have, just the two of us. Later, we'll have a snack of tuna and watercress sandwiches. How jolly."

Muffins with Mumsie

A few weeks ago, it was Muffins with Mom at GG2's preschool. I am not a fan of muffins and would rather have Donuts with  Mom, but alas, that is not as cute and besides, there is already Donuts with Dad. Sad to say, but GH won this round. Anyway, off I went to Muffins with Mom. We played snowflake bingo, which GG2 won. I think she cheated.

Perhaps this sweet girl could benefit from a Bounty dryer sheet?

A Dad! How'd he get through the checkpoint? And he probably got a donut, too....

GG2 helped me make the muffins. To show her extreme appreciation for the blueberry ones, she ate five. It was kinda scary.

And then I took a picture of us together. This, too, is scary.

Just to prove that it is possible to look adorable and take a self-portrait, Mrs. Meagan the teacher snapped one of herself. She really is much too cute. Plus, she's young and has the energy to teach preschool, something I don't think I could do. I know I'm a home schooler, but these preschoolers are brutal! The playing! The running! The talking! Too much! But Mrs. Meagan thrives on it and does such a nice job. I'm sending MOS to preschool next year. Mrs. Meagan probably won't make it to Christmas. Sigh. It was nice knowing you!

Then GG2 dressed up. I did not, despite her requests. Those costumes were in the wrong color palette for me.

That girl can work a hat and wand, I tell you what.

Pom pom hair also looks smashing on her. Can she do no wrong in the fashion sense?

She spent the last fifteen minutes playing with the doll house with her friends while I sat slumped in the corner, exhausted. Muffins with Mom lasted an hour...my energy only held out about 30 minutes or so. I can only imagine how it's going to go with MOS next year....somehow I don't think the pom pom hair is going to look too cute on him.