How to kill a boxelder bug

I really enjoy the poetry of Bill Holm.  When we first moved to the rolling prairies, I discovered his books of poetry and essays at an area library.  He is a local writer, the descendant of Icelandic immigrant farmers, so the section was well-stocked.

I recently re-checked out one of his first books I became acquainted with: Boxelder Bug Variations: A Meditation on an Idea in Language and Music.  Oh, how it makes me laugh!  I had forgotten.  Boxelder bugs are a common, harmless pest that over-winter in Minnesota homes (though I never really saw them until moving to the southwest part of the state).  I have a tender-spot for them because of this book.

There is a Borealis family legend that tells of Squeeze's great-grandma, Mammy, being so disgusted by boxelder bugs that one fall that she poured gasoline over a large cluster of them on the trunk of a boxelder, killing the bugs, but also the poor tree.

So in honor of Mammy, I offer this poem.

THOUGH DIFFICULT, IT IS POSSIBLE TO KILL

BOXELDER BUGS.  IF YOU ARE INTERESTED,

YOU MIGHT TRY THIS METHOD

                                                             Take two bricks.
                                                             Creep deliberately up
                                                             Behind the boxelder bug,
                                                             Being careful not to sing --
                                                             This will alert him.
                                                             In a graceful flowing gesture,
                                                             Something like a golf swing
                                                             Or reaching for your lover in the dark,
                                                             Gather up the boxelder bug
                                                             On the surface of the left brick
                                                             Bringing the right brick
                                                             At the same time firmly down
                                                             Together with the left brick.
                                                             There will be a loud crashing,
                                                             Like broken cymbals,
                                                             Maybe a breaking of brick, and
                                                             If you are not careful,
                                                             Your own voice rising.
                                                             When the brick dust has settled
                                                             And you have examined your own hands,
                                                             Carefully,
                                                             You will not see the boxelder bug.
                                                             There is a small hole in the brick
                                                             And he is exploring it,
                                                             Calmly, like a millionaire
                                                             In an antique shop.


         ~ Bill Holm
            Boxelder Bug Variations
            1985

Sometimes it is just so hard

Today is beautiful, sunny and in the upper-50's F, so I gave the older boys a choice for quiet-time while "the baby" napped.  Upstairs with books, or outside playing. 

They decided to play outside, which I think was a smart choice (duh!), but they begged for me to come and sit outside to watch them play. 

Their quiet-time is my quiet-time too, and the only time I have alone day or night, since I've been going to bed and getting up at the same time as them.  As much as I love these boys, I need my space.  I need that meager hour of QT in the afternoons.  I need the silence and solitude.  It is like a balm to my brain and soul.

I did go outside on the front step to hang diapers to dry while they transitioned from inside to out.  It was lovely and warm with that crisp fall scent in the air.  Diego bobbled around, looking for boxelder bugs, but Truen stuck close to me and regaled me with an endless minutiae of questions about plants and seeds.  So adorable, of course . . . but after 10 minutes my mind was buzzing and all I could think of was escape.

His string of questions included, "Remember those balls with seeds in them?  Where did they go?", "Remember when I planted them?", "Here's my special plant, do you see it?", "Will my plant grow as big as Diego?", "Where did Diego's plant go?", "The hen-and-chick, yeah -- where did it go?", "Will Diego's plant grow as big as Diego?", etc.

I tried to keep up with it as best I could until I realized I needed an escape and put an end to it after the second or third straight question of, "Will ____ grow as big as Diego?".  I finally very gently said, "Uhm, Truen?  Remember that this is my quiet-time too . . ."

"I know," he said good-naturedly, "but I just wanted to talk to you."

Heart-stab.  Of course he just wanted to talk to me.  Most of my morning was spent in the kitchen putting together a salmon chowder and a BBQ beef for the slow-cooker and keeping Jamie satisfied.  I hardly saw either of the older boys all morning while they played hard, enmeshed in their world of make-believe. 

Of course he wanted to talk to me.

It is moments like these when I think, "What kind of a mother am I?"  Seriously.  What kind of a mother am I??  And while I am able to see the larger picture, and I do know that I am not hard-hearted or even unusual in my short-comings or inabilities, my heart was pricked by his sweet desire to converse with me. 

It is so hard to be human.  I never used to think about that, I don't think.  I liked to complain about my slavery to the 40-hour work-week or how busy I was in school, but I'm not sure I ever felt so depleted as I do now.  Mothering is so intense, sucking the very marrow from our bones.  It doesn't matter if the well is dry or whether "I have it in me" . . . because all these little people need me, all the time.  They need my attention, affection, eyes, ears, hands, heart, mind.  My everything.  And they deserve my best.  But it is just so. hard.  Overwhelming.  All-encompassing.

{And I love them}

Two weeks later...

A list-post is the only thing that will do.

• I haven't left the house more than a handful of times for the last month and a half.  I am going stir-crazy.  This is probably good, meaning that I have some of my interest in life and liberty coming back, but . . . I'm still really tired.  Going somewhere only appeals to me as an emotional outlet.  Otherwise, it is just too hard.  Tired.
• Even the boys are begging to go somewhere.
• I am 12 weeks.  
• Twelve weeks and starting to feel a bit more energy flowing through my veins, but...
• I still get really sleepy in the afternoons.  And I am completely tied and bound to food.  Getting hungry sends me in a downward spiral, and fast.  So "like usual" only way worse.
• I can't believe I get to have a newborn again next summer.  I was re-reading about newborns from my pregnancy book last night with the insight of an experienced mother.  It made me smile and coo and squeal a little bit.  I can't wait to savor those first few days, weeks, months.
• There have been a lot of inquiries about our pregnancy, asking, "I thought you were done...?"  Heh.  And so we thought.  But things got a little murky at the end of August and here we are.  I couldn't be more thrilled, just to be able to do it all one last time.  It makes me so happy.  Squeeze is happy too, feeling like it must be "meant to be".  He has said that he is excited about it with the exception of "all the work".  Always practical, that Squeeze of mine.  And what a lot of work it is.  Especially combined with manhandling 15 acres into submission and maintaining two large gardens.

Gotta go.  That's all she wrote para el día.

The size of a fig

The Annual Pumpkin Picture

If this series isn't positive proof that we need Squeeze HERE while taking pictures, I don't know what is.  I couldn't get them to hold still or look at me at the same time.  Sheeeeeeeeesh.  We ran out of time on the weekend we carved them and it is too dark to take pictures by the time he gets home from work.  I wanted pictures before the pumpkins started to mold and rot, thus the solo attempt.

I carved Jamie's cute little guy and Squeeze carved the boys' pumpkins based off their specific instructions.  They picked their pumpkins out on our outing to "Pumpkin Fest" (though Truen ended up using the one good one from our own garden vs. the lop-sided mammoth that he had picked out).

Pumpkin Pictures: 2011, 2009, 2008

Garlic lemonade

A post two days in a row??  I  know.  I'm amazing.

I've been sick for the past week with a sore throat, a cough, and congestion that rains down heaviest on me at night, while I'm trying to sleep.  It has been swell . . . yeah right.

Aside from the initial intake of echinacea tincture, I've been taking large doses of Vitamin C, gargling with tea tree oil in warm water, and drinking a warm garlic-lemon tea.  I got the idea and recipe from my favorite family health go-to reference book, Aviva-Jill Romm's Naturally Healthy Babies and Children.

It is soothing to a sore throat, tastes nice, and boosts the immune system.  Win-win-win.  I've really been savoring it.

Garlic Lemonade

• 4-6 garlic cloves, crushed
• 1 quart boiling water
• Honey to taste
• Lemon juice to taste

Pour the boiling water over the crushed garlic cloves in a quart canning jar, cover, and let sit for at least a half-hour.  Reheat the garlicky water as needed on the stove-top, adding it to the honey at the bottom of your favorite mug.  Stir and add lemon juice to taste.  Sip freely.

It took for-ev-er

This morning it took me over two hours to assemble a Vegetable Beef soup, something that should take a half-hour.  All I had to do was brown the meaty soup bones and chop onions, garlic, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and kale.  All the other vegetables are dried and just need to be dumped in.  Honestly . .  . not much to it.  But there were boys crying and fighting left and right. 

The littlest guy tried to carry a step-stool into another room while I chopped whatever-it-was and fell on it, pinching his fingers.  (This was just one of the many crying fits he contributed over the elongated prep-time.)

The middle guy had a panic attack because he couldn't pull up his sleeves or wash his hands fast enough (as fast as his bigger brother) to come and touch the gelatinous stock.  (Seriously . . . it was amazing . . . like beef jello.)

The oldest was in shambles because he wants so badly to build a conservatory but doesn't know how.  He even went and picked out boards from the lumber pile, had his hammer and nails, but couldn't conjure anything that remotely resembles his ideal.  Tears of frustration.  I had him sit at the table with a good book and warm tea.

Eventually, after the first hour or so of attempting to put this soup together, there was a burning sensation in my brain as I contemplated whether or not I would ever finish.  I did finish . . . eventually . . . but zowie, it took a long time.

Wonderful rain

The rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here,
And on the ships at sea.

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

It rained all day today, which is such a welcome event.  I can't even remember the last time it rained.  Maybe July?  The ground is cracked and dry.  The sound and sight of the drizzling sky felt so good.  Familiar.  Cozy.  The robins were in ecstasy hopping all around the yard.

Lil' buckaroos

We went to "Pumpkin Fest" at Squeeze's parents' church on Saturday.

They had a pumpkin patch, straw-bale maze, carnival games, and my favorite -- 

A dress-up box and old-timey pictures for big and small . . . so fun.

All three boys crack me up for different reasons.

Diego is so serious!

Truen's poses are so varied.

And Jamie was so benign and cooperative.

(The third picture is my favorite.)

Last weekend

Last weekend was a bit more tame.  I took time to go on a walk with my family, sit in the sun, and relax a bit.  It has been over a month of intense work on the weekends and it felt very good to slow down.

Nevertheless, I still did some work:

• Chopped and dehydrated 2 large bunches of celery
• Rendered 3 quarts of snowy-white lard
• Canned 17 quarts tomatillo salsa

It is supposed to freeze tomorrow night, so Squeeze pulled in the rest of the tomatillos and green tomatoes last night.  There are still plenty of cruciferious vegetables in the garden to glean from, but anything warm-loving (peppers, tomatoes, okra, squash, melons, etc.) is done for the season.

Jamie says

Mullets are hip again, right?

• "Bop!" = Stop!
• "Maynoes" = Tomatoes
• "Sooz" = Shoes
• "Papo" = Pacifier (mutant offspring of Diego's baby-word "paso")
• "Blankuk" = Blanket
• "Meeoh-Meeoh" = Oatmeal
• "Gampa" = Grandpa
• "Bel-bo" = Belly-button
• "Moom" = Moon
• "Day-go" = Diego
• "Soo-in" = Truen

More results from another three-day weekend

• 10 lbs dried green beans (now fits in 1 quart jar)
• 11 pints pickled sweet peppers
• 10-ish lbs dried green peppers (both pepper jobs were a major time-suck with all the chopping and seed removal)
• 4 jelly jars / 1 pint vanilla-melon jam
• 6 quarts tomato puree
• 5 pints charred chili BBQ sauce
• 8 pints pickled green tomatoes

What I didn't get done . . .

• Another batch of vanilla-melon jam
• Decant/refill fermenting vessels w/ cabbage for sauerkraut
• Apples up the wazoo
• Tomatillos (a huge box filled to the top)
• Green tomatoes

We talked about it this weekend and it is really feels like there is no end in sight.  Honestly, this could go on for another month (especially with all the work left to the weekends).  There are boxes and boxes full of produce waiting for me.  Seriously. 

I would like to try it during the week, but it is prit'near impossible with all the demands of the three little monkeys underfoot.  I just don't know how I would do it.  Things are different this year w/ the combination of age levels and temperaments.  It seems like I am always in the process of negotiating peace, breaking up fights, or comforting one screaming child or another.  (Not to mention feeding, bathing, directing, diapers, clean-up, etc.)

Nevertheless, I shall persevere.  I still feel strong, though my enthusiasm is starting to falter a bit.  And (heh) . . . we're supposed to start our little home school next week.

The fellas right after apple-picking

Diego - 7 years old

Truen - 4 (5 next month)

Jamie - 20 months

Weekend recap

Romanced by tomatoes

Squeeze took Friday off, so I had a full three days to focus on food preservation.

This list blows my mind:

• 7 quarts applesauce
• 1 apple leather
• 4 pints, 8 jelly jars melon preserves
• 2 tomato paste leathers
• 6.5 pints BBQ sauce
• 1.5 jelly jars crab apple jelly
• 8 quarts tomato puree
• 8 quarts sauerkraut

But I did do it, all of it.  The apple leather came from a quart of applesauce that didn't seal.  The one-point-five jelly jars of crab apple jelly is just outrageous; the amount of work that went into those tiny little jars is off the charts.  But goodness . . . is it beautiful (and delicious).  The tomato puree turned out to be a lovely orange from the combination of yellow and red-pink tomatoes.

Diego is obsessed with "chesst" again, so Squeeze spent much of his weekend playing one game of chess after another.  He was also able to get various tasks around the house done and took 95% of the responsibility for the little guys.  Aside from breakfast each day, he made the food, wiped the butts, changed the diapers, broke up the fights, wiped the hands, etc.  They went on a melon hunt Sunday and made an excursion to the rock pile that left the place so quiet I wondered if they had been abducted by aliens.

All this allowed me time to focus on the strategy of what needed tending first and the resulting sequence of events.  Honestly, I am in such a groove this season that it wasn't a taxing experience at all.  I had on my "game face" and was still going strong at 10:00 PM on Sunday night (though I was definitely tired this morning).  Jamie had a tummy ache and needed me particularly on Friday and Saturday, so I did take a number of deep-nuzzle snuggle breaks to refill his tank (which I loved).

Up next weekend: tomatillo salsa and apple products galore.

2012 Garden Tour

East Garden: Early June

The straw is laid down and all supports are in.

Onions are growing in the foreground.

Lettuce is the bright, bushy stuff on the left;

Peas are the tall plants in the background.

East Garden: Mid-June

A couple of weeks later and things are really growing.

I took this picture while a storm was moving in --

thus the pink lighting.

East Garden: Mid-July

Things are way, way up.

Onions will be harvested in a couple of weeks, corn is coming,

and the cabbages are starting to curl inward.

 To think . . .

this delicate little darling becomes

an enormous squash.

 West Garden: Mid-July

The vining plants grow here:
Melons, winter squash, summer squash, pumpkins.

Squeeze gives Truen credit for the idea for this walkway.

Truby was so excited about his "bridge" --

he drew a model of what he wanted, helped Squeeze pick out the planks,

and acted as construction assistant.

All the three of the boys loooooove walking on it.

Our very own grapes --

The birds got the majority of these little beauties.

Better luck next year...?

Mid-July harvesting:

Zucchini, beets, scalloped summer squash, cucumbers

Truen set this up while I was making lunch one afternoon.

Isn't it just darling?

We spent a couple of days protecting it from Jamie and

admiring the color and size differences, until the novelty wore off

and I disassembled it to make room on the table.

It has been flooding tomatoes for the past three weeks --

German Pink, Manyel, Cherokee Purple, Black Plum

(there's a bit of scarlett okra in there as well).

See our beautiful back "steps"?  And that lovely bottom-landing carpet?

Squeeze's dad will be building REAL steps this fall (can't wait).

 Melons, zucchini, & Cinderella pumpkins
from the West Garden --
the boys love the treasure-hunt of picking melons,
Not to mention the succulent, sweet reward.


Diego's vegetable stand --
This is his second year of selling vegetables.
His stand is in the kitchen; doesn't he set it up so beautifully?
While he sells to anyone who visits the house (thanks Mimi!),
his most loyal customers are his Grandmas. ♥
The price?  One "hawk coin" . . . twenty-five cents.

East Garden: September

It looks a bit weedy and upkept by this point.

Cucumbers, corn, onions, and garlic are all done.  Some things are going to seed.  Second seedings of lettuce, radishes, cilantro are looking good, as are the second plantings of green beans and broccoli. 

The first planting of broccoli is putting out, big-time (though the florets are now about the size of your thumb).  Cooking greens are going full bore.  Tomatoes eggplant, okra, and peppers need to be picked every-other-day.

Our little franken-toddler has to be closely monitored these days.  He likes to stomp up to big green tomatoes or little peppers with uber enthusiasm, saying, "Rwwwwiiiiiiiipe!" and then lop them off their vines.  'Tis the season of life and garden.

The weekend tally

• 2 pints watermelon-rind pickles
• 7.5 pints charred chili BBQ sauce
• 9.5 quarts tomato sauce
• 1-2 pints tomato paste drying in the dehydrator (it started out as somewhere around 10 lbs of plum tomatoes . . . wow)
• 8 quarts sauerkraut decanted, fermenting vessels refilled with same amount of fresh cabbage, salt, and caraway seeds
• Went apple-picking and picked . . . uhhhhhh . . . 60 lbs?, 75 lbs? . . . 4 boxes full
• Picked a sack filled with black walnuts to dry (experimenting)

How am I doing this...?  Very simple.  Squeeze keeps the boys under wraps for the weekend (they play alongside him wherever he is working, or "help" him work) while I spend two days from noon to bed-time in the kitchen. 

I am a preserving machine this season, a force to be reckoned with.  I surveyed our jar storage this evening and realized that we might run out of jars (and/or be forced to use the pints when I'd rather use the quarts).  The tomatillo glut hasn't even started yet and I have big plans for mondo amounts of salsa verde.  !!!

This is amazing for two reasons.  First off, I've been semi-embarrassed in the past, wondering why I have been hoarding such massive quantities of canning jars.  It always seemed so excessive.  But this year?  Whoa baby, I'm on fire. 

And that brings me to my second point, which is . . . I am totally Wonder Woman this year.  It is amazing.  I can't believe the amount of food I am preserving!  I assume it is a combination of fabulous output from our garden and the accumulation of skills and experience.  I am so impressed every time I go down in the root cellar.  It already looks amazing.

And last but not least, Squeeze built a sandbox.  (Sorry about that terribly back-lit picture, it was the best I could do at the time.)  We've been talking about it for the past 3-4 years and finally got our act together and decided this was it!  The biggest hurdle has been deciding where it would go.  Squeeze used wood from our huge pile of reclaimed lumber, harnessing the charm of the "rustic" look.  He did a great job.

Last weekend's stats

• 2 pints watermelon-rind pickles
• 4 pints cantaloupe preserves
• 2 quarts dried plum tomatoes
• 11 quarts tomato sauce
• Still in the hopper (i.e. should have been decanted on Sunday): 6 quarts sauerkraut

You can teach an old dog new tricks (me)

Instilling a sense of duty has not come naturally to me as a parent.  I'm all about inspiration and affection, learning to love the world around us, taking time to appreciate "the little things".  But duty?  Not so much.  Duty is "boring".

However, in recent years I have come to realize that duty is a very important part of life.  In it lies the simple building blocks of daily life: respect, patience, perseverance, serving others, care of possessions, maintenance of living spaces, etc.  Without these habits built into life, chaos reigns.  Chaos is worse than boring - it is dreadful.

A habit is "an acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary".  Of course we clear our spot when we are done!  X-Y-Z goes back on the shelf after I'm done with it.  And that life-simplifying mantra, "a place for everything and everything in its place". 

Without a doubt, order and cleanliness comes easier to some than others.  Children amplify the need for these life skills, or lack there of, beyond reckoning.  I fall into the second category.  Lack there of.  Doh.

I remember reading encouragement to involve young ones in chores right from the start.  It will often take longer, but it is worth the effort of patience and (sometimes) added work to train them to help.  While I am doing that with Jamie, I never really did with Diego until he was a bit older, perhaps around 3-ish.  Probably because most of the said-chores were not on my radar screen.  The messes seem bigger and more ominous now, but also . . . prior to children, my jobs were to wash the dishes and clean the cat litters.  Squeeze did everything else. 

It has been a slow transition over the years, but I now hold the reigns of household management.  Of course, this also involves cleaning up after three little rascals, but I am floored by the amount of labor that is involved in "just life".  The daily grind.  The endless minutiae of picking up, organizing, cleaning, re-organizing, picking up, cleaning it again, and so on. 

Without daily maintenance, I am toast.  The tsunami-force of the mess monster swallows one whole - mind, spirit and all.  It is like a black-hole of despair.

My recent understanding of all this has initiated a major overhaul this past year.  The boys are becoming more and more responsible in household maintenance.  We all live here, and while I am your mama, I ain't your maid.

It has been a work in progress for several years.  I've spent a goodly amount of time hammering out my own failings . . . developing standards and creating structure in my own daily/weekly routines . . . and while I am not perfect, things have improved drastically.

Through all these inner-workings and sight of tangible results, I've realized that instilling a set of expectations in the daily routine is key.  It used to be the darndest thing to have my boys get dressed every day.  And brushing teeth after breakfast?  Fergettabou'dit.  They hit the ground running for the play table as soon as their breakfast dishes were cleared.

But then it hit me: make it an expectation.  Schedule it in to the routine.  Normalize it into daily reality.  One small example of this is my recent regimentation of "morning chores", which is nothing more than clearing the table, wiping their spot, brushing their teeth, and getting dressed.  But now . . . if they forget, all I need to do is ask sweetly, "What do you need to do next?" and they know exactly what I am talking about.  There is no harassing and the work gets done, in large part because they expect it.

It is embarrassing to know that I am just figuring this out with a seven, four, and one-and-a-half year old, but things change over the years.  Demands and challenges are different, as are the levels of activity and distractedness.  And shoot, I'm an ENFP.  We don't do well with the "trivial drudgery of everyday life".  Heh.

What is best though, is that I've come to realize that I can make ANYTHING into habit.  Whatever portion of the daily grind I need them to take responsibility for . . . I can instill it as habit into their daily routine.  One at a time, slow and steady wins the race, but I can. DO. it.

And that feels very good.

The past is a foreign country

Retronaut: I am beyond intrigued.

People are people are people are people.  No matter when or where. 

I love stuff like this because it helps me get out of the entrapment of feeling like I am (or we are) "the first".  We are pioneering our own lives, yes, from birth to death - gaining the experiences and maturity that comes through living - but it has all been done before, a million times over.

Look into the eyes of some of these people.  I've seen them before.  I've seen them!  They are the faces of all of us.  Ever-changing, always the same.

Preservation blitz

It is the wee hours of the night/morning and I've been in the kitchen for most of the day . . . decanting sauerkraut, jamming and canning 12 cups of concord grapes, canning 9 quarts of tomato sauce.  I didn't get started until mid-afternoon, but crikes . . . I'm bushed. 

Tomorrow I will need to re-fill the Pickl-It jars with a fresh batch of thinly-sliced cabbage n' caraway seeds for 'kraut and quarter plum tomatoes for the dehydrater. 

I really should blanch and freeze kale and collards as well.  They "keep" so much longer out in the garden, but better to get a jump on it vs. waiting until I am totally burnt-out and the plants are half-dead.  I doubt I'll have it in me, though.  Maybe sometime this week.

'Tis the season.

Harvesting & homeschooling

I feel a burning lack of contemplative thought in my life right now.  I don't have time to read, I don't have time to sit and stare, I don't have time for blogging.  It burns.  I sat down to write a contemplative post today, but realized that I don't have the time or ability to hammer my thoughts into a cohesive thesis.  So I shan't.  I just can't.

Our tomato table is full to the brim, waiting for me to slice plum tomatoes for drying.  I hope to have enough big-juicies to make a batch of tomato sauce soon.  Salsa, too.  I de-stemmed 10 lbs of grapes yesterday, concord grapes from our neighbor Walentyne.  They are such a gorgeous dusky purple-blue, my heart leaps whenever I look at them.  The next step is to separate the skins from the pulp.  I am making grape jam, so I will then cook the pulp, strain the seeds, then add the chopped skins back to the greenish-goo, add a sweetener and vioa-la!, jam.

I looked around the house yesterday and remembered, "Oh yes, this is September".  Of course it isn't September yet, but the harvest has started.  Things are getting wild.  I want to keep my perspective this year, to remember that the house might look like a cyclone hit it, but the chaos is only temporary.  It is worth it.

I am also looking toward the reality that we are starting Year 1 . . . first grade . . . of homeschooling this year.  We will start in October.  I feel fairly relaxed about it as I did most of my planning this past spring (with two year of reading and research undergirding it).  We have cultivated our home and lifestyle as a rich learning environment, so even if we haven't officially done "school", our little fellas have been schooled in many life skills and sciences since the very start.  I am also realizing that I am of the "better late than early" variety. 

I will be following the methods and philosophy of the educator Charlotte Mason using Ambleside Online as my training wheels, though I will be using The Story of the World as my history "spine".  I will be very curious to see how everything plays out.  It will involve a lot of reading aloud, which I think we will all enjoy.  I'm not exactly sure how to re-organize our day to make everything work, but I have read enough about homeschooling to know that it might taking several readjustments before things gel.

Other goals include teaching Diego how to read (which I think he is totally ready for, it should be easy) and teaching both boys how to tell time, as they currently measure time by Mr. Bean episode-lengths.  I think I need a morning board, so I can go hard at it with the season, temperature, date, time, etc.  Any suggestions out there...?  For some reason, I can't muster the inner strength to actually make one (though it must be easy).

Olson Extravaganza

Posting a little sooner than last year . . .

My parents & sister left yesterday after a two-week visit.

We spent a week at our place and a week in the Twin Cities.

Lots of time with my sibs, grandparents, great-grands,

and a menagerie of extended Olsons.

'Twas good.

 The usual with Unky Erik

 The extended Olsons --

We had many a night like this.

Laid out flat at the beach --

three days without a nap'll do this to yeh.

My youngest sibs --

Snacking on homemade hummus

after splashing around with the nephews in the lake.

 Watching the koi at Como Park

Examining the fountain coins with Unky Andrew

 Blasting Grandma with the bubble gun --

She's the one that bought it for them! :)

Unky Jayna outright laughing --

Jamie's face was smooshed beyond belief in that mask.

Uncle Andrew & Auntie Brenda --

Keepin' it real with the kiddos.

Playing Go Fish with Grandpa & Great-Grandma

My lovely grandparents

"Up at the cabin"

The boys with their great-grands

and the friendly neighborhood kitty.

The last-minute goodbye photo 

Postus Interruptus

I am supposed to be putting a chicken into the oven to roast; but instead I am snuggling with my littlest guy, still groggy from his nap. 

He wouldn't be awake, except that Truen dropped an aluminum pail right in the front entry while begging me to come outside (as I readied the aforementioned chicken).  The giant reverberating crash that it produced as it hit the ground woke his baby brudder up.

Sheesh.  Go figure.

The last two days have been warm and sunny (and not the heat box we've been living in).  It has been delightful.  The entire house is open and breezy, flooded with fresh air.  It feels good to go outside.  Hearing the birds chirp under the shade of a tree with the breeze on my skin felt like a downright luxury this afternoon, especially after the weeks and weeks of scorching misery.

Ahhhhhh . . .

Jamie is up and running with his brudders, so I'd better get back to my chicken. 

We are finishing a run of two weeks with Squeeze working overtime, up an hour earlier every day and skipping his lunch hour.  It has been a grueling couple of weeks for him.  The poor guy was almost slug-like on the couch last night and eventually crawled upstairs to bed like a beaten dog.

A catch-up list

• Various posts keep running through my head.  The one stuck on repeat most recently would have been titled "Things I Thought I'd Never Hear Myself Say as a Mother", with the headliner of "Please get your face out of my butt".  Yes, I've said that.  More than once.
• But(t).  I'm not in the mood.  I'll just do a list-post to catch up on life.
• Jamie is starting to connect words with concepts.  Like today, when he put his fingers in the bottom of the glass sliding door, then held up his filthy little hand and said, "Doh-dee".  It took me a second for it to register, then I realized that he telling me that his hand was dirty.  The sweet little fella.
• Or yesterday, when we were in the garden and he was nervous around the sprinkler.  He kept on backing away and saying, "Cold! Cold!" whenever it veered in his direction.
• Speaking of veering.  I am actively trying to reprogram my nickname for Schtinky.  The time has come for a change, mostly because I don't want him to get upset about it as he gets older.  Recently I've been calling him "Voosy", which is Squeeze's nickname for him, or have defaulted to my new one: "Tsamie".  He answers to all of them.  Schtinky, Stinky, Jamie, Tsamie, Voos, Voosy.
• Our summer has been very hot and dry.  We've had one real rain in the last two months.  All the grass is brown and we are watering our young trees to keep them going.  Ditto on the gardens.  Squeeze runs the sprinkler almost every morning or night.
• Because of the heat, we are going to have AMAZING melons, squash, eggplant, peppers, okra, etc. this year.  It is looking doubtful for the tomatoes, though.  The plants look phenomenal, but it isn't cooling down enough at night and we are losing blossoms, especially on the big juicies.  No flowers, no fruit.  Frustrating.
• This is definitely the hottest summer we have had here.  Squeeze heard somewhere that these are the warmest temps in Minnesota since 1987.  In the past, we've run our air conditioner maybe once a summer, perhaps for 3-4 days, during a miserable run of hot, humid days; but this summer, the a/c has been on for most of July.  Life would be miserable without it, though I am getting very tired of feeling cooped up.  We have enough of that in the winter months.
• My parents and sister are coming for a visit next week.  They will be at our house for a few days, then we are all heading to the Twin Cities for my grandparents' 60th where we will meet up with another two brothers and a SIL.  One brother and a SIL won't be able to make it, so it won't be a complete reunion, but fun nevertheless.

Back to the old grind.  Nap/Quiet Time is officially over.  Goodbye, silence . . . you carressed my ears and mind, but my jaw still hurts . . .

I love my boys. ♥

The brudders with their great-grands

In Wisconsin, the week before last

Domestic bliss

We've been here for 5 years now.  A post on that fact (five. years!) brewed in my head for several weeks, but nothing ever came of it.  My thoughts aren't transferable amongst the screaming and I haven't had the inspiration to sacrifice my sleep/stare/read times as of yet.  Besides . . . that last post?  Yeah.  All hell broke loose with the brudders and the baby scribbled on the wall with a pencil in the chaos.  It just isn't worth it.

Nevertheless, we've been here for 5 years.  And it has been just this year that we are starting to get radical on improving irritating things about this house.

Squeeze replaced the high-tower toilet.  He replaced the leaky plumbing under the sink and the faucets in the bathtub and bathroom sink.  But most deliciously . . . we had our neighbor come this spring and install shelving into a long kitchen closet (it actually used to be an elevator) that turned a piddly few shelves into a true-blue Pantry Closet that I can't gush enough about.

Here's the BEFORE shot.  Why the previous owners had three shelves so-very-far apart is beyond me.

We were able to consolidate a number of scattered storage spaces into something entirely more efficient and amazing.  Seriously, we batted our eyelashes at it for days after install at the beauty of it.  We kept the light on in the evening that first night just to LOOK at it.  Storage room and plenty of it.  Shelves for food, shelves for surplus kitchen equipment, shelves for craft and art and paper supplies.  Shelves for games!  Shelves for toys.  Shelves for cookbooks.  Shelves and shelves and shelves!  The glory.

This is the AFTER shot.  Things are gotten even more wonderful as we have settled in.  Oh, the beauty!  It has definitely added to my overall level of happiness and sanity.  I am thankful for it every single day.  (The filing cabinet was moved to the bedroom closet and the food dehydrator went to the top of the dryer and we added a plant near the window.  Whee!) 

The three existing shelves went upstairs to the closet directly above this one (the top portion of the former elevator, about half the size of this one due to the slanting roof). It also only had three shelves, just as far apart. Squeeze screwed the two additional shelves between the existing so now we have five! shelves! in what we call the Holiday Closet. It is 100% seasonal decorations. Who knew one family could amass that much decor??

All the glory and grandeur of the reorganized closets has inspired us to finally organize the other storage closet upstairs.  Yesterday we went to what Truen calls "The Bernards" (AKA the hardware super-store called "Menards") and bought steel storage shelving.  The wonder!  I can't wait.  We are going to pull everything out of the closet this evening and reorganize.  The weather is nasty (90 degrees F and above), so indoor work is ideal.  It is going to be awesome.  Totally tubular.

Estoy aquí

Has it really been over two weeks since I posted last?  Ugh.  Time flies, especially with less an hour of down-time each day.  I could stay up later I suppose, but I'm just not willing to do that.

Updates?  The only thing I have time for is to report that I've started pulling out gray hairs.  Double-ugh.  Just within the last couple of months, I've noticed stray white hairs glimmering on the top of my head.  They are shorter, bristly and they stick straight up. !!! 

They are getting the boot.  I don't think I would mind so much if they laid down flat, but they stick up like little wires.

Lovely.

Tidbits

• Today I'm going to make garlic scape pesto.  I dropped last summer's pesto remnants in a glass storage container that shattered on the kitchen floor and honestly contemplated trying to eat it in spite of the glass shards.  It is that good.
• We killed another baby bird last night.  Not on purpose of course.  This time a robin fledgling that fell out of the tree in the front yard last Saturday morning.  We read online to leave a fledgling alone and let its parents take care of it, but we have three children under seven and it was in the front yard right outside our windows.  It didn't stand a chance.  They couldn't leave it alone and we weren't willing to spend an entire day or more fighting them off of it.  The boys did their best, feeding it all kinds of chopped worms, but in the end "mother knows best".  Sad.
• The linden basswood tree in our front yard is in full bloom.  It is literally buzzing with honey bees and its flowery fragrance is almost overpowering.  I am extremely fond of this tree, feeling thankful for it (and the people who planted it) almost everyday.  The shade that it provides our home and yard below it is so luxurious, a haven to hide under on a warm, sunny day.  It is downright gorgeous undearneath its leafy spread.
• Schtinky AKA Jamie has been very opinionated about which breast he nurses on for awhile now.  He now says, "ah-side" when he is ready to switch.  Before that it was just a lot of squeezing and shirt-pulling.
• Last Saturday I slept in until 9:00 AM, very comfortable and dozing in and out of sleep throughout the morning.  Ladies, it has been a long time.  Probably more than year?  Maybe longer.  This too, felt like a luxury.  Wow.  It was amazing.

I laugh every time I look at it

Post title: The Bright Side
Picture caption: Only one of them was aware it existed.

Endless giggles: Awkward Family Photos

Obsessed with "chesst"

All three of our boys are going through a chess binge (otherwise known as "chesst" at our house).  We have three sets: one cardboard and plastic-piece set from Wilburn, circa 1974, one wooden set from Squeeze's childhood chess obsession, and a small magnetic travel chess set, also from Squeeze's childhood.  He used to play against himself in the car.  All three boards are in circulation.

Diego begs both Squeeze and I to play every day.  Most of the game is punctuated with "No, a pawn can only move one space forward", which seems to be the rule he has the hardest time remembering.  He obviously has no ability for strategy at this point, but he loves moving the pieces around the board and capture his opponent's pieces. 

Truen likes to use the pieces for his own imaginative battle scenes, complete with sound effects.  He doesn't play "chesst", per se.  Like Diego, he can set up the board with the pieces in the correct spots.  "I know how to set it up, do you know that Mama?" he said this afternoon.  And he had, it was set up perfectly.  Wow.

Jamie is very interested with both the pieces and boards as well, not only because they are new, but also because his brothers' major "chesst" jag.  He likes to suck on the pieces and throw them around the room as well as scrape the chess board against the kitchen floor.  Uff.

It has been a intriguing phase to be thrust into.  Who would have thunk it?

Silver lining

Every cloud has one, right?

While I was vacuuming our gargantuan living room today (a later addition to this old, patchwork-quilt-of-a-house, larger than the size of our first apartment), I was able to think of some good things about being done with having babies.

• Not having to be pregnant again.  This is two-thirds good news, as I only truly enjoy the second trimester anyway.
• Along the same lines . . . suffering less wear and tear on my body.  This last time around, I remember feeling like I was recovering from pregnancy, not childbirth.  One would think it would only get rougher.
• Less expense in our yearly flight to Seattle to visit my family.  And less insanity en route.
• Not having to reconfigure how to share myself with four children.  Everyone wants to sleep with me.  Everyone wants to snuggle with me at the same time.  But there is only one of me and I only have two arms.  (Though Diego has been snuggling with my LEGS at night.  He wakes up on his own and then comes and snuggles in at the bottom of the bed.  I actually like it, unless I am so cramped that I am unable to move.)
• Done with diapers and night-nursing forever 'n ever.  Yes.  That sounds nice.
• Not having to come up with another name.  Weird I know, but I honestly consider it an unpleasant task.  It is just too hard.

We shall see.  Squeeze is 100% ready to be done.  I am probably 75% ready to be done.  I think.  Some days I am okay with the thought, but I mostly feel mournful and incredulous.

Seasons in clothing and life

I finally finished re-organizing the boys' winter clothing for storage in our household's biannual seasonal clothing change.  Just yesterday.  It is a task that I both enjoy and dread.

On one hand, I am pleased to remember how blessed we are.  I revel in the base-level practicality of it all, knowing that I don't need to even think about clothes for the next boy.  I like the nostalgia of memories triggered of my boys at certain ages.  I love the frugality.

On the other hand, it is a fairly sizable task to tackle while my three little guys dance around me.  It always seems insurmountable and I usually put it off for weeks and weeks.

But as I folded baby clothes yesterday morning, the ones that Jamie has grown out of, stacked upstairs for later organization, I felt the weight of sadness.  The memories.  Those little, soft baby clothes with the sweet-smelling, fat baby that goes in them.  My tender heart!  Indeed . . . babies are very likely becoming a thing of the past for our little family.  It makes me so sad.  I can't even bring myself to speak of it in certain terms.

No more babies?  Never to birth again??  Never to hold my own newborn close, savoring every little snort and grunt?  Never again?  It hurts, ladies.  It hurts.  And it is probably - I think - pretty much, most likely, the end.  Probably.  I think.

I know we must all go through it to some extent, but it is just. so. sad.