Someone, PLEASE, send professional help quickly

This series has completely taken over me. I think the kids are still alive here somewhere, although I can't be certain given my sleep-deprived, brain-addled state. I started the series Tuesday, and now I'm on the last couple hundred pages of the third book, and I'm quite certain that waiting for the 4th book to be released a week from Saturday is literally going to kill me. Really not the kind of book I expected to be consumed by, but I have to hand it to Julie - she knows how to recommend a good book.

Monday's Lovely

Our herbs seem to thrive despite us. Especially the lavender. And I love it especially for that reason. The kids scurry in the back door and tell me to smell their fingers. At first I'm horrified and look at them with revulsion until I remember it's our own little game of "Name That Herb", where I try to accurately identify which of the herbs they've been rubbing. It's all particularly amusing when I consider how many 6 or 4-year-olds I know who could correctly identify herbs.

Blueberries for Sal

We began the day by sleeping in a little and then paid for our laziness by picking blueberries in the sweltering heat. But we were willing sufferers. Last year, a late freeze completely obliterated the berry patch's crop and we had to make do with frozen blueberries. A sore trial, indeed. Luckily I had done enough jam the previous year that we just finished the last of it off a month ago. (Is that right? Should jam be ok to eat not one, but two years later?) So anyway, the kids were so excited to be able to pick this year, and boy did we have to work for what we got. Turns out we're not the only ones in the metropolitan area who might be a little eager for the blueberry picking this year. The darn berry patches have been picked clean daily and we had to be vigilant today to seek out enough ripe berries to fill our buckets.

Wonderboy was all business. All business, and dreams of blueberry muffins, blueberry crumb cake, blueberry pancakes, blueberry cobbler, blueberry jam, blueberry buckle, blueberry...

Fia kindly offered to taste-test most of the berries I picked, but when I suggested she was just like Sal, she became a just a teeny tiny bit upset and informed me that was not her name at all, thank you very much.

Bubs was a great helper taste-testing the berries that were rotting on the ground under the bushes. He's number three. And number three can't be picky. It's survival of the fittest, after all.

Medieval Basset Torture Technique

Little people eating muffins just out of reach.

The Man-Cold

This video is so funny. You must look if you haven't seen it. Lem Sip is an OTC cold remedy, and '999' is like our 911.

Hmm. Kind of reminds me of the one time E brought home pneumonia, recovered peacefully in bed, and then left me here to die. But I'm not really allowed to talk about that.

Quote of the Day

Today Fia came into the kitchen, put her arms around my legs and said,

"Mommy, I won't ever throw you into the sea. Don't worry."

And then she left.

How we operate around here

This morning Wonderboy came in my room, dressed like this (he has his father's fashion sense):
because, as he said, "I need to look bigger with my missing tooth, so I put on a tie and belt and a button shirt", and he handed me this note:

It says: To Mommy, Mom is that ipod for me - it's red, is it for me? If it is I love u ulot.

It turns out that when the kids get up at 6:30 a.m., and I don't, they manage to pack in a lot of snooping and general mischief-making. Wonderboy found a little MP3 player on top of the fridge. Apparently they already know that the top of the fridge (because it is not easily visible by resident midgies!!) is the quintessential parent's hiding place in a pinch.

Also, they know where the chocolate is hidden, as evidenced by the brown rings they sported around their lips this morning. And there they crossed the line, because ain't nobody messes with mama's chocolate and live to tell about it.

A Small Triumph

My firstborn just lost his first tooth. He is unspeakably proud. After biting into his apple at lunch, he said his tooth felt a little sore. And now, a couple of hours later, he just smugly tells me - "Mom! I just kept pestering it with my tongue and it popped right out!!" He's very eager to tell his best friends, Daddy and Alex.

Monday's Lovely

I found these notecards a couple of weeks ago, and had an immediate I-must-have-them reaction. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you don't mess with that reaction. It's primal, man. You can't fight that. The illustrations are from Grady McFerrin, an artist in Brooklyn. I think I might frame them and slap them up in Bub's room.

I think I may be on to something...

So today as we filled my car with gas, which still had 1/4 of a tank, and the pump didn't quit ticking away until we'd spent $60, (for GAS!?!), I decided I've got to take a new approach to things. So here's what I think I need:

I saw a few of these in action when I was in the Netherlands and I think it might be just the thing. And then I wouldn't need to go to the gym anymore. The only problem is that this one costs about $2500 -- and I think this is the economy model. Gulp. But wouldn't we look so fabulously European pedalling to Target?

Farewell Colorado, Part Deux

The next day the kids were occupied with their respective Day Camps, so E, Bubs and I hiked to Cub Lake and The Pool (about 7 miles - Yay us!). Cub Lake was covered with lily pads and bright yellow lilies. Breathtaking. And we had a little guest for lunch, as you can see in the picture below. It's a little strange. Each year we can count on finding a duck at one of the lakes. A duck. Not ducks. A duck. So this place is best suited to the most reclusive of ducks. I can't think of anywhere I'd rather live if I were a duck.

This is a view of Cub Lake, looking back, as we hiked up the other side.

The Pool - Not what I picture when I think of a pool, and probably cold enough to freeze your bits into oblivion, but beautiful none-the-less.

So, as I was saying, we hiked our legs off. And then the kids started vomiting. End of story. So here are more of my favorite photos. Oh, and Daisy is a mountain dog at heart. The mountains are a smorgasbord of smells and that's pure heaven to her. Each night she was just plain tuckered out. So without further adieu, more photos...

This is how you feel when your favorite walking stick breaks. Sorry dude.

This is what you're looking at when you climb to 11,000 ft.

This, too.

Me. Don't I look remarkably robust considering my internet withdrawal?

Farewell Colorado. Hello Internet.

For the first time in three years of vacationing as a family in Estes Park, Co, I was unable to get my *&^% computer to work on the lodge's wireless. The first day I just had a withdrawal headache. But the next day it was much more serious, with convulsions and mood swings. It may have been for the best, because being tapped in gets a little overwhelming in more than one way. But how I have missed Thee, fair Internet. And how I've missed spewing my babbling nonsense drivel. So brace yourselves. Babbling nonsense drivel ahead. And boring vacation recaps as well. A double-whammy.

Rocky Mountain Nat'l Park is our family's little paradise. That's because we haven't taken the rugrats to Disney yet. I'm sure when we do, the mountains will be their new drudgery. But for now, it's the highlight of the year, ranking right up there with Christmas. Christmas IN Colorado! Now that would be something. Although the excitement would probably make their little heads burst, so perhaps it's best we not meld the two euphoric events into one. I was ready to throw in the towel before we'd even left, honestly, given the round-the-clock ricocheting off walls the kids were engaged in, and that E, coincidentally, was swamped at work to the point that laundry, packing and planning - and kid wrangling - just wouldn't fit on his agenda. He thinks this is rather funny. I, however, do not.

And while I'm complaining, Universe I have a bone to pick with you. I DO NOT understand why (why, why, why?!?!) a family trip is not possible without one or more of the gang contracting a virulent and extremely unpleasant stomach flu. We will approach our next vacation with a few new tactics in our arsenal of vacation-preparation-tactics. An all-encompassing quarantine. Followed by nightly baths in Purell. Followed by a complete spray down with Lysol. And we will not visit any eating establishments with play areas. Period. And I'm seriously thinking over the possibility and practicality of hazmat suits. I've said my bit, Universe. And now, on to pleasanter things.

Rocky Mountain Park is just so dang awesome. Dang awesome. So spectacularly beautiful. And such a perfect reprieve from the Midwest's smothering humidity and heat. And when I say my kids can hike, I mean my kids can hike. (Until they are sidelined with crippling stomach cramps and fevers, that is.) Well, except for Bubby, who rides, and has a pretty sweet gig, if you ask me. It's not a very sweet gig for whichever of us adults has to schlep him up and down the mountain, but hey, that's what parenting is all about, right? Lots of schlepping. And other things. And there might not be anything funnier than your 6-year old slumping on a rock and saying with all seriousness and a few hand gestures, "I need to hydrate."

Half the reason for our Colorado trip each year is to catch the Estes Park Scandinavian Festival. Besides the good food and folksy handmade items, the highlight for me might have been observing E singing along with the Norwegian national anthem when the Scandianvian flags were paraded in. We enjoyed lefsa with butter and brown sugar while being entertained by the Norwegian dancing. And then we were dragged back to the cabin by the kids, who didn't come to hang out with silly old Scandinavians, thank you very much, but to play in the pine trees, if you don't mind.

The kids hiked with us the next day - about a 5 mile hike to three different lakes, the highest of which was at an elevation of about 10,000 ft. above sea level, folks! And not a word of complaining from my little troopers. They seem to thrive on mountain air and scrambling over rocks. And they looked so stinking cute with their backpacks.

Emerald Lake

Blogger has put it's foot down. No more photos for you, it says. So stay tuned for part deux.