My 8th Sixteen Year Old

(I have no idea why my pictures are grainy. Use your imagination to make them clearer. And if you're my older son, and you're reading this...Help! I just noticed I also have some kind of weird borders around a few pictures. What, I'm supposed to write, then do my own tech support, too?! Ridiculous.)

Sixteen is definitely an age that causes rejoicing. Although it makes me a little sad.

When I met Alex he was a small, brown, absolutely adorable, stuttering, speech impeded, extremely shy, bad-boy - brought to a McDonalds Play Place by his foster mom, to have a visit with his four brothers and their two foster moms. When the boys had been abandoned on Christmas Eve, it had been impossible to find a place to take the 5 of them, so they were split up - and it just became easier on everyone, except them, to keep them separated.

Pictured above: seven kids, ages 2-8, and four older ones (the life savers!), ages 12-18. Bad picture, great kids.

I've never hidden my boys' story from them. Some of them are old enough to remember a few details anyway.

A couple of them prefer the made-up version they use to block out the memories.

Their story is sad. They all have plenty of excuses to give their therapist for any future dysfunction, but thanks to a God of mercy,  they also have a story of saving grace and sovereignty that would make a marvelous men's retreat testimony one day.

Alex, a big-eyed, smiley 3 year old, was put into foster care because of neglect and abandonment. Alex, a shy, insecure 4 year old was taken out of foster care because of abuse. And Alex, an angry, adorable, scared-to-love 5 year old was adopted into our home because of love, faith, temporary (or not) insanity, and a big dose of over-confidence on our part. 

We didn't change any of the boys' first names since it seemed like they had plenty of new things to get used to already. Not only did they now have two, older, pale-faced parents; they also had four new sisters and two more brothers. They were now part of a chaotic family of 13.  They were now homeschooled, slept in a room with 3 sets of bunkbeds, and were gawked at like a circus act when we went ....anywhere!  

I never blamed anyone for staring. One time we parked in front of a mirrored window and I was able to see what others saw as we filed out of the van.  Children ages, 2,2,4,5,7,8,8,12,13,15,18 (mostly dressed alike...which did not help our case for normalcy....) exiting a large green van and lining up with buddies. I had to LOL. A long, hard LOL (although,it would have been longer and harder had it not been MY family...)

From that point on I knew we would always be a walking infomercial. Either husbands would look at us, nudge their wives, and whisper, "Have you taken your pill today?!"...Or they would see a glimpse of Jesus Loves the Little Children.

 We gave them each a new middle name, one with a vision and some character attached to it. A name they could live up to. Alex became Alexander Elliot - named after the martyred missionary Jim Elliot.

Some of my 16 year old man-boy's struggles have gone by the wayside. He miraculously no longer stutters. Apparently, that was an emotional response to something. Maybe he started stuttering when he lived in a car with his 4 brothers and parents. Or maybe it started the day the police officers took the five sickly, malnourished boys from their crack house.  Or perhaps it was when he was burned with a cigarette by his older foster "brother".

I'd love to tell you that with lots of love and consistency and prayer and discipline, I can see his name sake rising within him.

But I'm not sure yet.

 He still has fits of anger when he's caught stealing food (Maybe some kids never get over that feeling that the next meal is not a given...), or when the medicine he takes for his OCD, ADD, and Tourettes makes him unable to sleep so he gets up and turns the computer on - and gets caught. Because he's a horrible liar. Praise God.

When he's particularly mad, he folds himself into a little ball and gets as far under his covers as he can, trying to make himself invisible. I can tell he's hiding from something; us, the world,  himself. 

The same boy is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G in a thousand and one ways.   

Alex writes wonderful (and frequent) notes of apology. He totally knows what he's done wrong, right down to the wrong thinking that caused it. And he writes non-apology, just cuz notes, too. 

When your child is adopted, notes like this mean more :)

He is the first one to give a gift, and the last one to ask for one. He rubs my back. He kisses me goodnight. He's not embarrassed to sit close to me at church or ask for my opinion in front of his friends. He prays that his Dad would make enough money "so he could keep some for himself instead of spending it all on us and groceries." Spoken like a true, sensitive teenager.

He runs like the wind, winning cross-country races with perfect form, although no one has ever taught him how to do it.  He excels at soccer, tennis, swimming, skateboarding - anything athletic. When he takes his shirt off he looks like a muscle man (sorry, girls, no pictures.)

He's smart - doing algebra, dissecting crayfish in his biology class, studying latin and logic and reading through the classics in his homeschool co-op. I wonder what the neurologist, the one who told us Alex would probably never read, would think about that. Someday maybe Alex will drive me down there to ask him :)

Oh, and Alex should be getting his Eagle Scout rank in the next few months. And his Dad and I will stand beside him, proud and amazed, probably crying - and taking very little credit, knowing that God obviously has a plan for this guy, and our job is to persevere (a big job, I humbly add...) and watch it unfold.  And try to keep him out of jail. That would be good, too.

Happy Birthday, Alex.  I love you, son.

This Post Sponsored by...My Conscience

I'm not blog savvy enough to know whether the average reader can tell, but I happen to have a state-of-the-art, big-brother-ish site meter on my blog sidebar. Sitemeter tells me how many visitors I get, where they come from (Brazil and New Zealand...no kidding!) and even how long they stay. (Amazingly, some of my visitors are speed-readers!) 


 I love site meter.


 I hate site meter.


 I love it because it makes my reading audience a little less invisible (especially since many of them apparently have comment allergies....), but I hate it because when I get my weekly report and it shows I had 182 visitors last week (only 100,000 less than Pioneer Woman does per day...), any joy I might glean from knowing I had visitors is promptly squelched by the guilt of knowing that all those visits surely ended in disappointment as they came upon Nothing New. 


Oddly enough, when I occasionally do write something ...My numbers go up significantly. Probably coincidental.


 I have suggested to my (2) fans, that they go back and be re-entertained by the older posts - Some of them are funnier the 2nd time around (and all of them are funnier with a glass of wine in hand...). 


Guilt is often the vessel it takes to kick my procrastination in it's shiny hiney (why won't spell check let me spell hiney, with or without an e?) So, to my faithful readers (that means you, Grandma Lane :), here's my guilt-inspired offering - and I'm throwing in plenty of pictures as part of my penance. Click on them to enlarge. Especially this first one (see below for reason...)

This is the picture I'm sending with our Old Year's letter this year. The whole top row looks washed out - and my beautiful big girls are hidden behind that rail...Shoot, a couple of the boys aren't even smiling - But man, oh man, I look skinny. This photo was such an obvious choice to send out this year :) I'm thinking of having it made into a wall mural for our living room.

Around here, every other year Thanksgiving has to do holiday-double-duty since someone did some very poor planning in scheduling Thanksgiving and Christmas a mere 6 weeks apart. (And I have it on good authority that it wasn't Jesus, or His mother.  Bible scholars say He was born in the spring...a good 3-4 months after Thanksgiving.) My best guess is that the close holiday proximity has something to do with global warming. I hear that's to blame for quite a few of our problems so we might as well just tack this on.)


EVERYone came to our house for Thanksgiving this year, since it was the married kids year to be with their in-laws for Christmas.


And, for the first time in way too long, my sister and brother and their families also joined us. Throw in the brother's mother-in-law and the sweetest step-father on earth - and you get hospitality for 36.  No problem-o, right? .... because surely all us Mother's of Large Families are used to running their dishwashers 24/7 and restocking toilet paper on the hour.  Caring for the multitudes should be second-hand, right? 


Absolutely Not.  I survived by the skin of my weary bones. I'm usually a realist when it comes to holidays, but I spent a good deal of time battling an attitude of taken-for-grantedness. I had plenty of help, but I still worked my tail off. (I'd show you a picture, but I get enough comment spam as it is.) However (as I told my therapist when it was all over) I'd do it again in a heartbeat. It was so worth it to have everyone together in one big (clutter-strewn) house.  

Next year things will be a little different. Paper plates. Store-bought tea. Molly Maids.

                                  Grandma Story Time. 

Sophie is up for best-dressed baby of 2010. The fistfuls of white "fur" do make thumb sucking more difficult, but you really can't teach Fashion Sacrifice too early.

Because we are gluttons for punishment, my husband and I tried again this year for one of those "Our Grandchildren Adore Us" photos.


And again, we were not successful. 

I know all the grandparenting lit says not to have favorites, but if we were allowed, this next photo gives a hint as to who I'd pick. (Look at all that sweetness, still posing in the midst of all this uncooperativeness.)

After (too long) awhile, it was time to call in the Big Guns/aka parents for reinforcement..... which did not help one iota.

Thanks to the crop feature, we did get one acceptable photo.

Our oldest children,  affectionately known as the OK's (because the jury's still out on the younger ones, but we feel pretty good about these first six....Or because OK stands for older kids. Your choice.)

Mary-Faith with baby Sophie.

Winston with baby Sophie

Molly with baby Sophie (a very popular subject...)

Sophie with her family (who must have told her a funny joke right before this was taken...)

And how 'bout I end this post with some pictures of exceptionally cute guys? As part of the penance and all....

(Does he look like he's just glad to have it over with? ...)

Until next time (and I'd like to think it will be soon...),

Debbie

Schedule for Summer Success

I'm not one to complain (cough:cough), so I haven't mentioned much on my blog about the various special needs of my children. Most of them have ADD (trust me, it's real), one has cerebral palsy, one guy has major OCD/Tourettes; mix in a little Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and add a mother with her own "issues" (mostly depravity) and you get a family that thrives on routine - and prayer.

Actually, most children are more secure and well-behaved when they know what to expect. Flexibility is great, but you need something to flex 'from' or you end just plain disorganized, if not lazy. Spontaneity is more appreciated when it doesn't occur on an hourly basis.

And yes, those who know me can go ahead and count this as just more advice from a B.O. (Flylady's abbreviation for someone who is Born Organized.) However, the desire to plan my days is more of a survival technique for me than anything I inherited.

"Those who fail to plan, plan to fail", right?

I'm not keen on failure. But that's the guaranteed outcome when I wake up late, have no idea what we're eating for breakfast (lunch of dinner), and don't have a clue whether we can play all day or if there's important work to be done.

"But, it's summer!" (notice the quotes...) Summertime means more hours together, more time to relax and smell the (weedy) roses. Time to play unhurried games, make home-made slushees, and finally have leisure time to read all those books (I can't stop buying) on our shelves.

So, right around June 1st, instead of throwing the schedules and chore charts out the screen door, we simply "summerize" them.

And the children thrive.
And the mom is happy.
And projects slowly get crossed off the list (so I can keep adding more.)
And game pieces get found (or the game goes in the trash),
And math and spelling are reviewed.
And we all live happily ever after.

And we get a TLC show offered to us.

Here's the way our days are going this summer:

Kids wake an hour after mom - I like to start the day ahead of them. Vital.

Morning Chores - Never changes, year-round, no thinking required (make beds, gather garbage, unload dishwasher, feed cats, check pool, etc.)

Breakfast/Bible - I try to have my quiet time before the kids are up (preventive measures), then I can use our breakfast time to read to them. We're currently going through this.

More chores (We simply can't get enough of them. We're chore addicts!)- These are planned out by me, sometimes during that Power Hour before they wake up, sometimes taken from an on-going list I make during PMS, when everywhere I turn I find something that irritates me and proves my life is falling apart. For example, today one son re-painted a coffee table; another cleaned refrigerator coils; two children scraped paint from baseboards, and the other vassal cleaned the back porch, then wiped out the inside of the washer and dryer.

This is gruntwork that wouldn't usually show up on your weekly to-do list. But, it's so satisfying to have it completed. Which is why sometimes I walk around amidst my laborers, popping chocolate kisses into their sweet, subservient mouths. For real. I did this today. One for them, two for me.

These last one hour. If they finish early, the lucky-duckies get another chore....plus extra time on the computer (otherwise EVERY chore would take the complete hour...because my children are smart - - - when it comes to doing less work.)

When the hour is up, it's Playtime for an hour. Some days I suggest a playtime activity (because otherwise they would always choose Wii or computer time, and we all know what that causes. Bad attitudes ...... and sometimes the kids are affected, too.)

When they were younger, and I was a recovering perfectionist, I had a list of every game, puzzle, card deck, and art supply we owned. We would rotate through the list making use of all our wonderful ($$) resources and stimulating our creativity. When I would tell other moms about our playtime diversity they would look at me with eyes longing to Be Me (or they would immediately leave the room afraid whatever I had might be contagious.)

There are also pragmatic reasons for having such a list. We've been out of school for less than a month and we have discarded 7 games -either because there were important pieces missing, or because the game no longer kept the kid's interest (or it was embarrassing to play - like National Geographic's On Assignment.) We've also rediscovered some games that would have stayed on the shelf had Wii been an option for play time. And I already have some framed paintings, (way too many) friendship bracelets, and a knitted eyeglass case - all because I "suggested" art time.

After Play Time, we do Summer School. Mostly math review (including some board games and electronic hand-held flash cards), some spelling, and two chapters in a Mom-assigned literature book. Then they read something from the science shelf - followed by recording anything interesting they learned in a spiral notebook.

Lunch and clean-up

Rest time - This is the time for each of us to be completely alone - very important in a large family. Vital. The children usually listen to a story on CD, a history tape, or continue to read. Sometimes Molly plays with dolls, the boys occasionally color in a Dover color book or do Legos, and I almost always use this time to read blogs and steal ideas. This usually lasts 1-2 hours, according to how tired I am :)

Afternoon chore time- This is only the necessary end-of-day stuff. Putting up laundry; cleaning out the vans; finishing any projects started in the morning, dinner prep.

More play, followed by more play - The children swim or ride bikes, do some dangerous skateboarding, or play four square in the driveway. I like the kids to be outside several hours a day, but there are certain hours in Florida where a person can not breathe, and where clothing is a huge health-hazard. Fortunately, there are only about 8 months that fit this category.

After dinner and clean-up we might watch a movie (so far, the John Adams mini-series and 3 volumes of Anne of Green Gables) or play a family game, or read aloud or listen to a book on CD. We're in the middle of an audio recording of Around the World in 80 days, and the British actor who reads it has us all in suspense (even though most of us have read the book and already know that Phileas Fogg did not rob the bank).

Occasionally my husband and I will remember we're a married couple and try to do something alone (like go over the calendar, or talk about why I can't stop buying books) in which case we banish our offspring to the basement. (And they don't mind because there is foosball, ping pong, and a pool table down there.)

Then we all usually eat ice cream and go to bed.

So to "summerize" our schedule: Eat, Work, Play, Learn, Eat, Rest, Work, Play, Eat, Play, Eat. Sleep.

Work hard, play harder, eat often. The perfect summer equation.



P.S. I noticed that I have one new follower. Thank you! I only need 6,964 more, and then I can change my name to The Debster.

Missed Photo Opps

Dear Camera,

I miss you. You know that saying about what absence does to the heart? It's totally true in our case. I think about you all the time. Fortunately, the time has gone quickly because life has been unbelievably full during our time apart - full of things that should have been photographed and chronicled. I could kick myself for being so negligent and leaving you on that table in NC in my rush to get in the van. I'd blame it on my husband's impatience but that would be unkind (yet true.) I take full responsibility (even though my camera looks just like my daughter's and she should have noticed that there were two sitting on her dining room table.) I hope you're ready to work some overtime when we reunite. In the meantime, here's what I've been up to while we've been apart. (Really, really)Wish you were here.




Molly and Daniel went to Vacation Bible School
(not pictured: them dressed as really cute cowpokes)



Father's Day lunch
(not pictured: The Best Texas Sheet Cake Ever from The Pioneer Woman's Cook Book. It was just as good as she promised (actually, I think mine was a little better than hers...)



Justin and Alex went to Camp Charis.
(not pictured: stinky sleeping bags; happy, exhausted boys with permanently dirty feet; and two Hefty bags stuffed full of wet, filthy camp clothes)



Friends came over to swim
(not pictured: Wild kids doing dangerous flips off the diving board, followed by kids in bathing suits sitting in time-out)



Mary-Faith's crew team got 10th place at the Nationals in Ohio
(not pictured: Mary-Faith with her team getting on the bus; Mary-Faith with her team at the race; Mary-Faith with her team getting off the bus)



We refurbished the landscaping by the driveway.
(not pictured: the rare sight of me with dirt under my nails, weeding and sweating and actually doing the gardening work (vs. supervising) due to kids being at VBS, camp, and crew races)



I woke up the "morning after" weeding and sweating and actually doing the gardening work, to the agony of muscle spasms in my back from the extensive bending I did while weeding and sweating and actually doing the gardening work (vs. supervising) due to the kids being at VBS, camp, and crew races.
(Definitely Not Pictured- me loopy from pain pills that made me weird-looking, and I couldn't stand up straight so I would have looked fat in the pictures and they never would have seen the light of a bloggy day.)



My dear Nikon, I fervently hope to see you soon. Until then, I remain your careless, yet increasingly more appreciative owner,
Debbie

P.S. This just in! My pool visitor sent me a picture from her I-phone. I miss my (non-existent;never-going-to-get) I-phone, too.

Half a party is all you get around here

My youngest two children are a boy and a girl, born thirteen days apart. We used to get away with telling them they were twins - one of whom had emerged a little sooner than the other (from a very, very...long labor.) This charade was especially helpful around birthdays - one party, one cake, one special dinner. We never felt bad because they seemed to always enjoy it.

Until recently.

Maybe it's the fact that Molly is a good foot taller now than her "twin" brother, or maybe that classical education we're giving them has finally got them to thinking, but this year Molly asked to have a solo birthday party. And Daniel was fine with it. He immediately started planning his own mannish,no-girls-allowed party. (Maybe that Barbie cake last year was the Tipping Point for him......)

In order to give them even more "individualism" (because that's just the kind of amazing mother I am), I suggested Molly have a half-birthday party so their parties would not be a mere 13 days apart (because that's just the kind of cheapskate, tired mother I am).

Once we got started, the ideas just started flowing (because that's just the kind of creative mother I am.) We sent out invitations that had been cut in half before inserting them in the envelopes. See if you can find all the half-brained ideas we came up with in the following pictures.

Not pictured: The half and half ice cream that topped those amazing black and white cookies, which we ate after a half-hearted attempt at singing Happy Birthday. For dinner we had half a bowl of taco soup, topped with fritos and colby jack cheese. (Get it? Colby jack cheese? Half colby and half monterey jack. I must admit, some of my half-baked ideas were lost on these 11 year old girls. But I didn't care. I knew. And it made me whole-ly happy :)

We told the girls to come half-dressed, but fortunately no one took us up on it. However, the girls were very clever in the way they dressed for the party. Here's big Sis Mary-Faith, who chose to half-way match.

Most of the girls were a little less bold. They wore their hair half-up/half-down, or one big earring and one smaller. One girl cut off one leg of her jeans so she had half-shorts/half pants. Several of them wore two different shoes. This girl wore 50% of her shoes.

For activities, we decided to set up game stations. The girls played for 15 minutes then stopped (half-way through!) and moved to another station to pick up where the previous players left off. They played partial games of Sorry, Apples to Apples, Phase 10, and Monopoly.



The girls were good sports when we interrupted their games in the middle, but when we tried to stop the American Girl movie half-way through, they were only partially accepting!

A good time was had by ALL. And Molly was 100%, fully pleased.

Is it possible?

Winston Knox Pittman is 18 today. Sometimes these hallmark birthdays make me melancholy as I think of how quickly the time has gone - but I've found a cure for that.

I just close my eyes for a minute and envision myself getting older (actually, I could keep my eyes open for this part - and just look in the mirror), then I imagine my children gathered around my aging self.....But they aren't any older. They continue to be young, energetic, inquisitive, appropriately independent, .....and Still Living With Me.

So having my babies turn into "adults" (and anyone with an 18 year old can surely attest to the validity of those quotation marks!) .... "It's a good thing." (that saying comes from possibly the one woman least likely to understand what my life is like - - - - -Which would be Martha Stewart, in case I have any male readers...)

I blogged on his 17th birthday.
Read what I think about my guy, here. (It's a great reminder of a big God who works His wonders in mere men.) In looking at those pictures from last year I notice he hasn't changed much physically. But big changes are happening on the inside.

He's about to earn his Eagle Scout.

He's seriously praying about joining the Army.

His Dad is looking on Craig's List for some kind of vehicle for him (to share with his soon-to-be-18 sister......par for the course in a big family.)

He's reading Spiritual Disciplines of the Godly Man... for the second time.

And the big mark of maturity around here...He rarely needs reminding to put deodorant on in the morning.

Next thing you know he'll be putting his dirty laundry in the hamper.

Happy Birthday, Winston! I'm so glad you're my son.

Boy oh Boy

Yes, I should totally be writing about my wonderful Christmas with my wonderful family who were all back in my crowded, toy-strewn nest for five wonderful days.

I should be bragging ad nauseum about the rare leisurely hours spent lollygagging with my amazing Grandchildren. Oh, and I would be completely justified in using this space to give myself a big bloggy pat on the back for the way our family kept this Christmas simple and under budget. I surprised even myself :) We stuck to our one-present, $25 limit rule - and nary a complaint was heard (although the White Elephant exchange brought out the dark sides of a few plastic plate recipients.)

No, today my holiday thoughts are being crowded out, or rather....smoked out, by my boys return from their four-day New Year's Boy Scout campout. These excursions are always bittersweet for me. Kind of like a bittersweet sandwich, if you will. The "filling" is enjoyable as the girls and I have a quiet house for a few days, but on the top of that scrumptious filling is a stale and moldy slice of Packing (preceded by trying to locate the list items) and the bottom slice is the UnPacking (which is quicker, but involves much holding of the nose and a few mumbled OMG's.) And then stuffed in their somewhere is the lettuce and pickle of missing my boys and wondering if they're OK - and if they've changed underwear, or noticed that I packed their toothbrushes for a reason.


I normally don't worry about my boys when they're participating in a Scout function. Perhaps in my rookie Scout Mama days I had the occasional panic attack at the thought of my 'babies' in tandem with knives, fires, and foot blisters. But I'm over those minor concerns. This time I mostly worried about hypothermia.

(Yes, we still live in Florida, but the highs were only in the 50's the entire time they were gone!...and then there's the whole wind chill thing. And one night it got down to 30! And their sleeping bags were purchased in a Florida Wal-Mart, where gloves are sold to keep your hands clean while you weed.)

For the most part (and as usual) my concerns were all unjustified. The metal-working and the knot-tying, the capture the flag games and the unending packets of hot chocolate kept anyone from losing any digits in the frigid weather- but my sweet Daniel (being the youngest of 11 and occasionally accused of being a Mama's Boy) told me that last night his next-bag neighbor was complaining that he could not sleep because he was too cold. Daniel decided to tell him a "Ma and Pa and Billy" story (based on his Dad's childhood) to distract him. Daniel said, "By the time I got through with the story, Mark was snoring."
I've struggled to stay awake during some of Daniel's stories so I have no trouble believing this.

Daniel's compassion and concern for his fellow Scout just warms my heart! .... But apparently the act of benevolence did not do anything to heat Daniel up. He still couldn't sleep because his toes were freezing. So he told me he took off his fleece jacket and wrapped them around his feet and "thought happy thoughts" until he fell asleep.

I know these things are necessary for "men-in-training". And it sure was nice not having to wipe up any misplaced pee for a few days. But it feels good to have them all safe and sound in their blanketed beds right now. Even if their stinky laundry will keep me hopping for longer than they were gone.



Happy New Year! (Is anybody still out there?)

Why should I blog.....

.....when you can just read my two married daughter's great posts this week? Plus, they are showing me up, Big Time, in the creativity department. Go and see.

http://redefining-normal.blogspot.com/2009/08/projects-of-week.html

http://www.thedomesticationproject.com/



Are you gone yet?

It's worth the click(s), I promise.

Was the summer a bummer?

Beware of ideas you copy off other blogs (except mine...)

This seemed like a great idea at first glance. So we had a pre-summer pow-wow with our kids and made one of these to boldly display on our kitchen door:



The purpose of the poster was that, by the end of the summer, the children could look back and reminisce on what a fun-filled, active summer they had. And it was also supposed to keep the parents accountable to make the summer fun for 'said' children.

Unfortunately, now we are accountable. And there are quite a few unchecked activities - -which we warned them might happen when they started firing (expensive) ideas at us.

Everyone got to add a few things to the list, including mom and dad. Mine had to do with reading books, and Dad's had to do with yard work...... Because we're older parents..... and our definition of fun doesn't always match up with our kid's. In fact, if we had our way "Go to bed right after dinner" and "Read the newspaper out on the porch" (vs. the kitchen table) would've been right up there.


If it looks like we hardly did anything on the list - it's probably because we used a yellow marker for some of the check marks. And in case our kids are reading this. please note.....Out of 29 items, we completed 14 of them - which is almost 50%. Which is a higher average than you have on doing your chores without being reminded.....or brushing your teeth after each meal....or picking your clothes up after a shower..... Not that we're keeping track.

School started yesterday - which means summer is Officially Over (even though it's 90+ degrees outside and still very light at bedtime.) The poster is coming down - and maybe we'll do it again next year, but with a little realism thrown in.





P.S. I think it's interesting to note that many of the things the kids put on their list were no-cost activities. In fact I think, by far, their most memorable summer activity is the No-Work Saturday. Followed closely by the White pancake breakfast (instead of our normal whole wheat batter). So learn from us, you young parents - - - Make your children's lives semi-miserable to start with....and then almost anything seems fun in comparison :)