Birthday Suit Poop

Well, I wanted to post on Penelope's birthday but it was met with a few activities I'd rather not remember. (Yet here I go anyway...) I have refrained from writing about our dog, Bella, because she is a dog. Not a human being, no matter how much she and everyone else in the family believes her to be human. Do you hear me, kids? Bella is NOT a human because humans don't do the following...

Penelope, on her birthday, decided to strip down naked (How could I not let her wear her birthday suit on her birthday??) and play outside in the sandbox. She yells for me, "Oh no Mom, poop!" (NOT words you like to hear when you're me) and I run out there to see that she's pooped outside on our deck. Not a major disaster, except that her index finger was poised and ready to play with it. Luckily, I called to Jimmy for help and caught her just in time. Now, I love Jimmy, and he's a huge help around here. But when it comes to times like this, he seems to think I've called to him so that he can come and watch me deal with the mess. So he came, and stood there. But at least I had moral support. I dragged Penelope over to the hose, sprayed her little bottom clean, while he watched, and then turned around, and, to my horror, witnessed the dog eat Penelope's poop off the deck.

I screamed and declared the dog could not come inside for at least 24 hours and of course blamed Jimmy for letting it happen. He was just laughing because, he is the true saint who cleans up after the dog, feeds the dog, deals with the trash the dog drags all over the yard, so he knows what the dog puts in her mouth on a regular basis. Penelope's poop is probably pretty clean. But having to watch the dog actually do it...I prefer to live by the policy "If you don't see it, it didn't happen." For someone who has resorted to rubber gloves to deal with excrement, I do not want the image of my dog eating it going through my head when I hit the pillow at night.

I put Penelope in the bath. Guess what? She pooped in the tub. Contamination! Had to go through getting everyone out, scrubbing the tub, washing the toys, washing the kids...aahhh!

Later that night Jackson slept walked into the hallway and lifted the lid of the clothes hamper as if it was the toilet seat and was in position and ready to let it loose. Luckily I caught him and did some redirecting. I dodged a bullet. So, I'm wondering, will I ever get used to this part of the job? Because I've acclimated to many things being a mother. But do they ever run out of different ways to pee or poop on something? And will I ever stop freaking out about it?

So here I've gone and written a birthday blog about poop. I better wrap it up before I think of more to say. Luckily we didn't celebrate on her birthday, so I can remember tonight's celebration instead of the poop fiascoes. Tonight we had cake and presents. Happy Birthday Penelope!

Here's a pic of one of her cupcakes and also a few I took in the yard yesterday of she and Libby. Dressing my girls in matching clothes will never get old to me. They love it now so I'll enjoy it while I can. They had some fun with my glasses. They're like my mini-me's in them!

Good Times

Tonight Jimmy and I had a total lapse in judgement when we took our kids to the worst Wal-Mart in town, two days before Halloween. It was a zoo. What were we thinking? And isn't it funny how when one parent is totally freaking out (me) the other parent is laughing and enjoying themselves even though their children are in everybody's way and are slinging around plastic pumpkins and making WAY too much noise (Jimmy). You seem to always balance each other out that way. He was right. No one really noticed or cared. To end the trip I took the kids to the car while Jimmy stood in a ridiculously long line, and Cash peed all over his (and part of my) foot. Yes, I was letting him pee in the Wal-Mart parking lot against our tire. We don't refer to it as "the ghetto Wal-Mart" without doing our part to contribute to its reputation.

So it was a crazy ride home and another zoo trying to get everyone washed up and in bed. Libby can be extremely loud but at the same time quite sensitive to the noise. While we were out running our errands, she was crying (loudly, I might add) in the car because Cash would not talk to her. Then, while they were eating a quick snack before bed, she says to me..."I don't like how everyone talks. I wish this house was calm and no one had any mouths except me."

Well, she's right that we're not always calm. Yet still we seem to escape without too much injury. We had our first stitches this week though, when Cash fell off a chair and hit his head just right on some brick steps we have in our closed in carport. He was a good sport about it and Jimmy said he bonded with him, since he brought him to the doctor and afterward took him to Taco Bell to eat. If you want to bond with Jimmy, eat at Taco Bell with him. Even my dad has done it. They still tell the story. Crazy shopping...plastic pumpkins...peeing...stitches...Taco Bell... Good times.

Another Quote and a Naked Kid

Since I recently brought up movie quotes...one of my favorites is from Runaway Bride. Joan Cusak's character says to Julia Robert's character, as she is about to marry and is nervous..."Your veil is not attacking you!"

This week I kept hearing in my head, "Your house is not attacking you!" It was just really busy and I felt like I couldn't stop handing out snacks and picking up random stuff. I've already blogged about the impossibility to stay ahead of housework before, so I won't revisit it, but I needed that voice in my head to tell me that my house was NOT attacking me and it was just one of those weeks.

The kids, with the change of weather (yes!) have started riding their bikes in the driveway. I have been asked to move the van multiple times this week so they can have full use of the downhill slope. Our downhill actually goes towards the house so it is impossible for them to roll into the street. This is fortunate because I'm sure someone would have rolled into the street by now if that were not the case.

Cash is having a little trouble making it to the toilet recently and I'm getting tired of the laundry. When it gets to the end of the day sometimes he just runs around naked. It is quite interesting the way a three year old's nakedness turns it up a notch. Somehow when they are naked they think it is okay to run at full speed, yell at full volume, and totally ignore you.

Last night Cash was naked after dinner (it was almost bath time) and Jackson went out front to ride his bike. Cash followed and I just didn't have the energy, after three days of my house attacking me, to stop him. I went out in a few minutes to find him riding the little plastic football with the base of the handles quite strategically placed. I got the camera. I couldn't resist. I got some shots. Then he got on the tricycle, same story. (Meanwhile, cars are driving by, the neighbor is outside, people are walking their dogs, and I'm way too over the "look at us we're white trash" line to care.) So I just wanted to get one more shot, of his naked little booty while riding the tricycle. But of course, he stood up and turned the trike around. I said, "Cash, I wanted to see your booty." So he says, "Okay!" and takes both his hands and spreads his cheeks apart. I guess he wanted me to check and see if he'd wiped good enough. It was totally obscene. I snapped a picture. Jimmy said, without even seeing the picture, "DELETE THAT!" It really was over the top and inappropriate. I didn't delete it. Yes, I'm admitting to disobeying my husband right here for the whole world to see. I'm sure I'll delete it eventually, but it was just too funny to erase immediately. I will of course not post it here but let me tell you it is just as "I can't believe he did that" as it sounds. With him smiling over his shoulder and everything.

Why, when I ask this child to "Go wash your hands and face" do I have to remind him 3,000 times, but when I ask for a picture of his rear end he goes way above and beyond the call of duty? Nakedness, I guess. It is his super power. It heightens his senses and gives him super specific obedience. I wish. If this were true, he'd be naked all the time! When it was time for him to come inside I literally had to stop his wheels and raise my voice he was enjoying his naked joy ride so much. I've got a new quote for the bulletin board in my brain..."Your naked three year old is not attacking you!"

sol•i•tude

*I'm copying this definition from a dictionary. A paperback Oxford I can hold in my hand and smell with my nose. I'm not getting the definition online. On purpose. Get out a book once in while all you techies out there.

sol•i•tude n. 1 state of being solitary. 2 lonely place. 1) aloneness, isolation, seclusion; loneliness, remoteness. 2) emptiness, wilderness, desert island.

This definition sounds pretty depressing, right? Who wants to be in a lonely place? Who wants to feel remoteness and emptiness? Who wants to be by themselves on a desert island?

I DO!!

All day I couldn't get this word out of my head. Solitude. Solitude. Solitude. It must be around here somewhere, I'm thinking. I've just got to find it! It's not in the junk drawer, it's not under the couch, it hasn't been put through the washing machine, and I'm pretty sure Penelope hasn't eaten it. I just can't seem to grab hold of this simple noun. Solitude.

In my world it just doesn't exist. Or maybe Penelope put it in the trash.

BUT. Can you imagine solitude with no escape? Never having to wait in line for the bathroom or learn patience as you serve everyone shorter than you first? Watching a funny movie with no one to laugh with? Not having a fuzzy baby head to kiss? True solitude would suck.

It's all or nothing for me. Solitude, or so much togetherness you think you might die of too many loud and sticky people touching you. So I'll take the loud sticky togetherness. Goodbye solitude. Into the recycling bin you go. Turn yourself into raw life. It's much more fun. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

When Dad's away

I'm long overdue on a blog and plenty has happened to write about but the time has passed and I'm not in the mood to look back. Jimmy is out of town and I'm braving the home front by myself which, so far, isn't as bad as I'd feared. Don't freak out babe, but I'm sort of afraid I'll like it when you're gone. Like, I can sleep in the middle of the bed, I have one less person to take care of, I have "sole possession of the remote control--very important" (what movie is that from, anyone know? don't look it up!) and here's the big one, I can kick that whole submission thing to the curb for a couple of days. Just joking. I could never survive without Jimmy...proven to me by the feeling I get in my gut when I hear his voice on the phone or when he gets home after being out for a while. I'm truly blessed.

My friend Carey's husband is out of town too and tonight we braved Chick-Fil-A with our 8 children and no husbands. Carey and I can talk till the cows come home but we barely even spoke. We just sat there with mutual feelings. Like, we were both just waiting for it all to be over so we could go home and put everyone to bed and watch TV and forget about life for a couple hours. She wins the prize for the most battle scars from the experience though since she got lemonade poured all over her feet and flip flops. Chick-Fil-A brings me back every time even though it can be crazy on kids eat free nights. I just like feeding the whole family for less than 15 bucks and being served by an eager high schooler in a tie. For someone who is always serving other people food, I'll brave the germs, sticky-ness and mess to just put it all in the trash can and come home to a clean kitchen, letting my tie-wearing friend mop up the lemonade.

The kids have been really cute missing their dad. They keep asking when he is coming home and they want to talk to him on the phone or computer. Today Jackson wrote an email to Jimmy asking him how he was. Then at the end he wrote, "P.S. Send Money!" (Double points to anyone who can tell me where he got this from!)

Angel Baby

Your baby is not a baby anymore when:
-they bail out of your arms when they want to walk like a big kid
-they yell "turn it up!" from their car seat
-they crack jokes
-they remove their diaper (full of poop) and bring it to you
-they grab your face and tell you (very specifically) what they want
-they climb down from their high chair with no help
-they can sing tracks from the "Slumdog Millionaire" soundtrack

You guessed it, Penelope has done all these things recently. My baby is no longer. Just wanted to make sure I put on the blog, on the record, that Penelope has been an angelic baby, a gift from heaven. Before she hits 2 in November I am taking the opportunity to tell her (when she can one day read this) that she is my Angel Baby and I love her very much. But she is really a little girl now and I'm not saying that she will cease to be an angel, but the baby has left the house. She dances, eats, and communicates like only a little woman can. Her toddlerhood has begun to rear it's ugly head but I'm hoping to do it up right. You know..."unspare" the rod and "gratefulize" the child.

Here are some pictures from this past week. Jackson had fun making her a little royal bed, Libby had fun dressing her up, and she danced (whasup homey?) with Cash like crazy in the bathtub. (He was in the bath pics too but was naked and Cash's physique is not for the faint of heart.) I caught her reading books in her crib after nap. And I snuck a photo of her sleeping. I hate to seem like I'm bragging about my kids, so if you've made it this far, thanks for loving Penelope too!

Cheering in the Rain

Last night we went to the Florida State/Jacksonville State football game. My parents were given tickets and my Dad wanted to take Jackson for his birthday (which is in 2 weeks). I agreed to go, even though I have been on a football game fast for quite some time. It was nice to return to my cheerleading roots and cheer on the Seminoles. They needed it, seeing as how they were losing pretty much the entire game. They managed to squeeze out a win, literally, because it was extremely wet; it rained the entire first half.

Our friends the Mitchell's and Walworth's were able to go as well, and we attended the Janek's long standing tailgate party and sat with them too. Jackson had a great time and I had de ja vu with my Dad as we used our trusty free and excellent parking space and walked into the game on the same path we walked on many times my freshman and sophomore years. Score!

F-L-O-R-I-D-A S-T-A-T-E....Florida State, Florida State, Florida State, WHOOOOOO! Go Seminoles!

Wife of the Year

WIFE OF THE YEAR!

And with this terrible face, Julie Elizabeth Alley wins Wife of the Year. In this shot, Julie was yelling at her husband to put away her expensive camera because it was beginning to pour down rain. At the same time, Julie was trying to get on her rain jacket so as not to get completely drenched. Sorry, Jimmy. Thanks for asking me to bring the camera. And for carrying it for me. And for flirting with me at the game. I love you!

Home's Cool

Well, I have survived the first week back of "Alley Home's Cool." I'm pretty pooped. But I need to share some pics from the week, especially of Cash's first day of preschool. The morning of his first day my mom called to wish him a good day. I called him to the phone: "Cash, there's someone on the phone for you!" Cash: "Is it Mrs. F.?" (his teacher) How cute that he thought his preschool teacher would call him an hour before school just to make sure he was on the ball. He sure was. He was Mr. Happy that's for sure.

That same morning he took his breakfast smoothie to his room and declared he was going to have "a drinking party." I sometimes write these things I don't want to forget down and also as fuel for the blog. I jotted down "a drinking party in my room" on an index card and put it next to the toaster, for I knew there would be other one liners that day. Later in the day Jackson found the card and sought me out to ask what it meant. (Anything involving the word "party" Jackson must be informed of.) I explained it to him and so he decided to find Cash and tell him he was ready to organize the "drinking party" in their room. So a sign was made for the door and Jackson gathered the necessary refreshments and cups. I was invited. (My first drinking party--YES!) I came in to the red solo cups and everything. I took a drink of my brew (H2O) and stood there with Jackson as we drank. I couldn't resist. I said, "So, come here often?" and he says, matter of factly, "Yeah. Cash has this party every day from (pauses to glance at the clock) 1:24 to about 1:40." So there you go. What better way to kick off your first days of homeschool than with a drinking party?

Sometimes people ask me how I get anything done with my older student when I have little ones running around. I don't really stress about it because I just think about all the other home school moms who have gone before me. I figure if they made it through somehow I can too. But it is definitely a challenge and causes many many many interruptions. Penelope spends most of the day doing this like this:



So, there you go. That's how I get things done. I allow my toddler to tattoo herself with markers. After Jackson, they've all done it. It's a rite of passage. She also eats them, though, which is unique to Penelope. I'm not going to analyze why this is. I've also been trying to get a shot of Penelope on top of the dog for a while. Our dog Bella lies around a lot and Penelope will go over to her and plop down right on top of her like she's a pillow and the dog doesn't even bat an eye. It's like nothing happened. She's a very tolerant dog and I think has a soft spot for Penelope because she's the same height and I do catch Penelope sharing her snacks with the dog sometimes.

Today I taught an art class for some home school friends of mine and we had fun and got dirty. I didn't get any pictures because it was too busy! Afterward Jackson made a movie with some of his buddies and this is how I caught him reviewing it later in the day. I think Jackson's current hairdo (he's begging us not to cut it) looks like Jim from The Office. That's what I said.

We wrapped up the week tonight when Libby got to get her first library card. I let them get it when they are in Kindergarten. She wrote her name on the back like a big girl and was so proud. She got a free bag and filled that thing up to where it was so heavy she could barely carry it. She reminded me of myself. You can only get 50 items, Libby!

And one last pic: Cash and Penelope--the new school. Stay out of trouble kids, and you just might learn something around here. If you're not down with the educational route, there will be a drinking party every afternoon...

Septomom vs. Dracula

Well, today was one of those days that I feel the need to take a shower when it's over in an attempt to wash it all down the drain. It's only 7:27 and I'm already out, because Jimmy saw the need and put everyone to bed at 7:00. Thanks, babe.

This morning I watched a friend of mine's kids, three girls. So I had my time of being a mom of seven. It was fun and pretty uneventful. I realized what having a big family must be like when I was assembling turkey sandwiches en mass at 10:30 a.m. in anticipation of "the lunch rush". It's really great when the kids have friends over because they're not constantly asking me to be their playmate. And I can enjoy watching them. I really only felt a little like Octomom once when I had the fussy baby strapped to my chest while wiping a bottom. It was short lived and at least the poop was in the toilet.

Later after nap time the whole family went to the library and I was feeling pretty rough (coming down with a cold) and felt like I was shush-ing children left and right. Especially Cash who goes from quietly playing in the water fountain to reading to running around and screaming all in the space of three minutes while we are at the library. But this wonderful angelic woman said, after I had shushed someone, "I think their voices sound really cute. You're not bothering anyone." God bless this wonderful human being. They are cute. Above the decibel level for the library by my standards, but cute.

At dinner I hit a new level of chaos/misrule when Cash was walking around the kitchen twirling a string over his head like a lasso. Not a good idea, but even more so when he had found the string on the kitchen table fresh from the rotisserie chicken Jimmy was cutting up. It had been tying the legs together. And I wonder how my walls get so dirty so fast.

In the bath tonight there was high pitched screaming made by Libby and Cash as they were pretending with their toy fish. I tried to get their attention but to no avail. It's like I wasn't even in the room. Jimmy came in to see what was going on and I complained to him that I could say anything and they wouldn't hear me. I tried, "Hey, tomorrow we're going to Disney World" and miraculously they got quiet and said, "We are?" No kids, I just want to wash your hair!!

And finally, what put us over the top on the early bedtime...Cash fell in the hallway after getting out of the bath and not drying off enough. He cried pretty hard but I was busy in Libby's room behind him and just gave the perfunctory, "Cash, are you ok?" and left him lying there. (Hey, people fall down and cry all the time around here!) Libby walked up a few seconds later and said, "Mom, Cash is bleeding!" and I felt pretty bad and came around to help him. What I found was a three year old that looked a bit like Dracula after quite a feast. I mean, really, like more blood than I think I've ever bled at once (childbirth excluded). He was fine, just a bad busted lip. Bedtime for all! And that's when I hit the shower. Washed all that Septomom, Dracula, and chicken residue down the drain for the night. I start over tomorrow. And willingly. This is my life. And it's full of life. And I love it. It just makes my blog a little better to sound like I'm going a little crazy.

Sally Julie Raphael

Today on the way to church Jackson asked me (again!) about the restaurant I went to last night. It's called Bella Bella and he's very interested in it because our dog's name is Bella. He wanted to know why we never go there to eat. I told him because it was "fancy" and it costs a lot of money. (That and because every eating establishment which we give the honor of serving us a meal, we leave them a small beach of crumbs, spilled drinks, and sticky tables while we are being really loud and impatient during the entire meal.) Last night he was very concerned because I was all "fancy". All I had done was take a shower, braid my hair, put on a cotton dress (with flip-flops) and was wearing a necklace. He wanted to know why I was getting so dressed up. I guess since my usual attire is jeans and a t-shirt, yoga pants, or paint clothes, I looked pretty good.

So anyway, he asked me again this morning about it. "Mom, does the chicken at Bella Bella have curls on it?" I asked him what he meant by curls. He said, "You know, like curls and lace on it, since it's fancy." I said no, and thought it was quite Amelia Bedelia-ish of him to think so. But really, if the restaurant is fancy, shouldn't the chicken come out wearing lace and curls? (Amelia Bedelia actually does "dress" the chicken in one of her books.)

Having this discussion about fancy restaurants and lacy chickens are just some of the things I have to talk about around here. Someone always seems to want to talk to me about what is going on with them, no matter how big or small the problem. I feel loved and appreciated, but lately I've felt pretty overwhelmed. I can't tell you how many times someone will be talking to me and someone else breaks in. Who am I, Sally Jesse Raphael? Is it the glasses? Because sometimes I feel like a talk show host.

On our panel today we have Libby and Cash. Libby feels hurt because Cash messed up her doll house and Cash seems unrepentant and aloof. Audience, let's welcome Libby and Cash!

Julie: Libby, can you tell me why you've come today?
Libby: Cash messed up my dollhouse!
Cash: It was an accident!
Libby: No it wasn't! He did it on purpose!
Julie: Cash, did you mess up Libby's dollhouse?
Cash: Don't spank me!
Julie: Let's bring in our expert, Jackson.
Jackson: Thanks for having me.
Julie: Jackson, did you see what happened?
Jackson: Yes, Cash pushed over Libby's dollhouse toys.
Julie: Cash, look at me. Cash...Cash...look in my eyes.
Cash: I won't do it anymore.
Julie: You need to tell Libby you're sorry...

And so it goes. My life is really just like a Jerry Springer episode without the mullets and microphones. I am a problem solver, an exploiter of people's mistakes, and I make a spectacle out of people's bad behavior in hopes to get... ratings? Well, it breaks down there, but I do feel sometimes like I need a microphone and cue cards to 1) be loud enough to be heard over the screams and frustration and 2) remember what I'm supposed to say that is patient, loving, Godly, yet still just and firm. Can I get some scripted mommy-isms to get me out of a bind? And while we're at it, how about an arsenal of good-loving-supportive wife comments to utter when I'm feeling overwhelmed by all my husbands crazy ideas? Thanks. Just drop them off at my trailer. I'll be hanging out at the food table, since I seem to not be able to get through the day anymore without chocolate.

Ooh, even now I hear a fight breaking out in the back of the house. Here I go. JER-RY, JER-Y, JULIE, JULIE...