Sit, Obie, sit.

Meet Obie, Charlotte’s stunt double.

When pottying gets laborious, she sets Obie to task and heads to her trailer for primping.

Belle went home last night. Brady, for having mostly ignored Belle for the duration of her stay, is wandering around like she lost her best friend. She keeps looking in every nook and cranny for Belle… including under the couch. Big enough for Brady to hide out – but Belle cannot even get her head under there. Poor puppy.

Charlotte started “beeping” Belle’s nose before she left. Belle just looked at her like she was nuts. Charlotte poking Belle’s nose with her finger and saying “Beeeeeeeep” was pretty funny. She came a long way in the couple weeks we had Belle. The first three days screams erupted from that girl anytime Belle got in her vicinity. Of course, Belle thought she’d better investigate the screams and the whole situation was one big mess!

Being very much not a dog person… I’m going to miss that dog.

Overtired and scatterbrained, that’s me.

I decided to sew a shirt. It’s cute in the photos. But, in Blaine’s kind words, “Peasant tops just aren’t… you.” I stayed up until 1:30am to try on the finished product, shake my head at my reflection and wish I’d gone to bed at a decent how and skipped the project. So, I’ll make four more, this time knee length, for four fun summer dresses for four little girls, fabric scraps style. It’s so much more fun to sew for them anyway.

Pierce is still in the kids bedroom and it’s going fairly well. Brainstorming once again, I’m going to see if a crib mattress will fit under the crib. If it slides easily, we’ll revise beds once again and save a bit more space with Pierce in the crib instead of the pack and play and Charlotte on the mattress on the floor instead of in the crib. I’m starting to get the hang of this space saving mission. Just as soon as I learn to use the table saw, I’m planning shelves for their clothes. Ditch the dressers, clothes on shelves and in baskets on shelves. Child-rearing, assembly line style. The more the merrier. Or not. You know.

We’re planning to begin our new school year tomorrow. I’d planned for great things this vacation from school that we’re wrapping up. I was going to begin the school year so prepared. Freezer meals. Lists of meals, meal plans, school plans, spring cleaning, painting. Painting’s done. The house is a mess, the list of meals exists only in my head and meal plans are planned for 4:55pm daily. School books are all on the shelf but no plans are made, and spring cleaning has been rescheduled for next year. Turns out, I am horrible at keeping up with the extras. But I combed my hair (and four others), brushed my teeth, and got dressed (and two others) this morning so we’ll call it a success.

Overwhelmed, anyone?

A friend told me today that you can mail anything and everything from your house. I’ve been missing this. About 2-3 times a month I load six kids into a giant van, drive to the closest mailing place, nod and smile to the 9 people who insist on telling me that my appendages are at capacity, and kick the box that needs to be mailed along with my foot because I have a baby on each hip. Or better yet, get inside, kids in tow, and find out no one remembered the package. Frustratingly familiar scenario. Anyhow. Mail packages, from home. How have I missed this?

11. 12. Or so.

For 4.5 hours today, it was me and 11 kids, age 9 and younger. We had one skinned knee, one potty accident, one skinned forehead, one tick pulled, one very necessarily bathed boy, one black eye, and one tired me. I counted to eleven 200 times, to twelve three times, and stopped to stare, trying to figure out why there was extra from what I’d started with. Turns out, I just cannot count.

Conclusion: figure out what’s causing this before that’s my life everyday.

Musical

Last night was the kid’s co-op musical.

Both girls had dance parts.

Tiny choir robes are about the cutest things I’ve seen in a while.

Eden choked on was a grape.

All in all, it was a great night. Everyone did a fabulous job. And I’m so glad it’s over… pretty sure there isn’t anyone who worked on it to any extent that wouldn’t say that!

Digging up hard rocky ground with a pick to plant 20 plants results in a need for ibuprofen. Who would have thought? I can carry around two 20+ lb. kids at the same time for an hour or more without a second thought, but planting flowers gets the better of me. Ugh.

On the bright side, my flower garden is in. And I’m sure it’ll look great… soon. In brainstorming for something that will establish and grow every year and be something different, I didn’t plant flowers. I looked at our herb garden and the blooming lavender and chives, and I planted those into a new flower garden. I want to mulch it yet, and once it’s growing well I’ll take photos. Or it fails to thrive and this post disappears forever and we never know it existed.

Now, to get the dirt stains off my hands. As a kid, playing in the dirt resulted in maybe dirt under my nails. Now, it gets in all the wrinkles and won’t wash away. Hello, aging process. I’m not ready for this yet.

Fair? You decide.

“Eenie, meanie, mynie, mo, catch a tiger by the toe, my mother said to pick the very best one and Liberty and I get to go first,” Ruby sang in a sing song voice.

“She doesn’t really know how to do that,” Eden said.

Or she does. Sounds like she got precisely what she was after and no one was the wiser.