they grow up so fast.

Yesterday, the girls and I were walking home from picking the twins up at day camp. We passed two teens -- a boy and a girl -- and ChaCha very cheerfully said, "He-wo!" The kids passed us without any acknowledgment and Cha was heartbroken. "Why didn't they say he-wo? I said he-wo." "Oh, sweetie, the girl was talking on her cellphone and they are contemplating their teenagerness."

Bebe said, "Teenagers like to talk on cellphones and listen to iPods and go to concerts. They also like to hang out with their teenager friends and complain."

To keep from laughing, I asked, "How do you know so much about teenagers, Beeb?"

"I just do. I'm going to be one one day, you know."

I think she might be one now, except for having all her baby teeth and being five. And the lack of teenager friends and electronics.

rumors of my demise are highly exaggerated.

Seriously, I still eat and breathe and sleep and all the rest. I just took a nice, long time to enjoy my family and, well, basically laze around. Is that so wrong? I feel like I should be ashamed, but sometimes taking a little time to just be lazy and relaxed seems like the thing to do.

I can't believe it's already summer. The twins are in a summer day camp program at their school. This has been the first week and they are appropriately grumpy and foul when they come home. I know they will even out and be a lot more pleasant as they get used to the new schedule, but man, oh man, the first week or so is hard hard hard.

ChaCha continues to delight everyone. She now walks up to other parents and introduces herself, "Hi! I'm Charwotte! Please to meet you." And she even extends her hand to shake. She also has the small talk thing down. Her favorite topics are her age, her conversational companion's clothing choices, and what she ate for her last meal. Is it wrong to envy your own child's social skills? But I do -- she's a pro at it and I marvel at how easy and natural it is for her. Our little social butterfly.

Bebe is becoming a really great reader. She is happiest to have a book and read it to herself or her baby sister. That's really cute. "Hey, Charlotte? You want me to read this book to you? Huh?" And Our Lou is so very, very Lulu. She has more energy than the Energizer Bunny. She goes all day long. She wears me out.

Well, maybe I'll have a little more to say and more time to say it. That would be novel.

super duper bowl sunday

SpongeBob is on. The girlies are all goofing off and we're waiting for Archie to get up so I can shower. Ooo, can the excitement be contained?

After lunch, I'm taking the kids out to Target and then to the park, if it doesn't rain. We need to get some clothes -- not just because of growth, but because we're all going to Phoenix in a few weeks and it will be much warmer there. It's Archie's dad and stepmom's 25th wedding anniversary. We're using it as an excuse to see old friends we don't get to see but every few years. Luckily, the plane ride is only about 2 hours, but it will be interesting to see how ChaCha handles it. I'm sure Bebe and Lulu will be swell -- as long as no major turbulence is involved. Needless to say, we have been going over the use and location of airsick bags. (Our last plane ride was a joyous festival of puking and then clothes changing and tears. I think this one will be less eventful.)

Also, my children have turned into destructo-fiends. I'm not sure why. There's a closet door that needs to be replaced. Gah. Sometimes I feel as if I'm just in a holding pattern until the need for breaking and trashing things stops so I can have my house back. A house free of bright plastic toys, sippy cups, and crappy furniture.

Of course, I'm well aware that we'll just be moving on to clothes everywhere, books on every surface, iPods hiding, and endlessly ringing cellphones.

But maybe the furniture will be a little nicer.

plumbing update.

The main pipe (clay and original to the house, built in the late 40s) is well and truly fucked. Last night, a plumber used a camera to seee the entire thing out to the city line and there are roots, tiny breaks, and one spot where the pipe is all bowed out and ready to collapse. The initial estimate is somewhere between $6500 and $15K.

Damn. That's a ton of money. I may have to sell organs. I may have to sell the kids' organs. What's the going rate for a kidney?

naked.

There's an episode of Friends where Ross has a fancypants award ceremony to go to. At the end, Rachel tells him she's going commando. And Ross gets all pant-y (pardon the pun). I asked Archie, "Is that hot? Do guys really like to be told by their partners when they're not wearing underwear?" Archie assured me that this was, indeed, very sexy. "But why? Is it because you'll sneak away to the restroom and have sex at the oh-so-chi-chi restaurant? Why?" "Because it's the idea that the woman is all naked down there. It's like the promise of sex. You wouldn't have sex on the table between the salad and soup courses -- but you could. Because there wouldn't be any underwear."

I think that's just stupid. I mean, there's no way to persuade someone that something they find sexy or arousing just isn't, but I think it's kind of lame. And since I prefer to wear undies, I've found a solution that cracks me up.

I whisper, "Honey. I am completely naked underneath my clothing!" Oddly, Archie doesn't find this hot or particularly funny. But it cracks me up every single time.

pity my husband.

Not right now. He deserves no pity of any kind, right now. But, since I am not a young mother, it is entirely possible that right about the time the girls get to become acquainted with the joys of Uncle Joe, I will be disenchanted with Communism. And, in all probability, we'll all be going through this at the exact same time every month. The poor man will be slapping estrogen patches on me and stocking up on Midol. He should probably buy stock in some premium ice cream company, because I'm sure we'll be spending a small fortune on that.

We'll be the House of Hormones. Pity my husband.

uncle joe.

Archie and I have a tendency to refer to my period in Communist terms. For instance:

Archie: Wanna get busy?
Me: No, I'm working on my 5 year plan.
Archie: Huh?
Me: I'm Stalin? Get it? Stalin. Stalling. It's a pun and you should figure out what I'm talking about.
Archie: Ha. That's funny. Why did I marry you again?

So, we were in the car and Archie asked if I was in the mood for some love of a physical nature. (The girls were also in the car and he used our super-secret, highly-confidential code phrase. No, I'm not sharing.) I said, "Uh, imagine it's 1988 and the Wall is still up." And he replied, "Oh. Uncle Joe's in town then?"

And I cracked up because Uncle Joe fits the whole Communist theme we have going on. (And yes, I'm slightly embarrassed I have a theme for my cycle, but not too embarrassed to share it with the internet.) Plus, there's a new Cockney rhyming slang angle because Uncle Joe and Aunt Flo.

Yeah. Hi, I'm Katie. I'm silly.

happy new year! take a bunch of money!

So, the plumber showed up this morning. And the way to start the New Year right is to spend over $500 before noon. On plumbing. I mean, it's a good thing to be able to take a shower without actual shit coming up out of the drain, but I'd rather spend $500 on something a lot more fun than a length of PVC pipe.

And the news just keeps getting better. We get to donate a few more thousand dollars to the cause of plumbing, probably in the next 2 weeks. Whee.

At least the plumbers are having a good start to the year, I guess.

noisy.

Today was fairly quiet. We took the girls for a walk -- the last walk of 2004. We had breakfast for dinner -- the last dinner of 2004. Then the last bath of 2004. (See a theme?) We let the twins stay up to watch the ball drop in NY. (Charlotte passed out right before 8pm.) Archie started a fire and we watched "Napoleon Dynamite."

Most of the evening was taken up with trying to get a plumber to the house because our pipes are backing up. Woo! Happy New Year! But no one could come until tomorrow. Hope the plumber isn't offended by the stinky adults.

So, Archie was making one last attempt at snaking the drain (not a euphemism!) and I was poking the fire (again, not code for something else). And the fireworks started. Hey, it must be midnight! I went out on the front porch to listen and watch the excitement.

Our neighborhood is very quiet. So it's amusing to listen to everyone go nuts. Apparently, several of our neighbors are having parties, because I could hear the noisemakers from across the street. And all the yelling. Then the car horns started.

If noise is the way to bring in the new year, my neighbors did it up right. Happy 2005.

oh my.

OK, it's after midnight. I just called Archie to make sure he was OK because of the rain and wind and all. He's fine. The extend-o-remix-extravaganza is still going on. Still. Arch said they took a few minimal breaks for nourishment and he'll probably leave before the 40 minute finale. But still. They've now officially started on a second day.

He's still gonna take the trash out, though.

alone.

Well, not really. My mom is in the guest room watching her TiVoed soap operas. The girls are all asleep. It's storming like crazy -- high winds and the rain has been coming down for several hours. Am I getting wet and taking the garbage to the curb? Um, no.

Archie left this morning at about 10am to spend the day with a few friends and watch "The Lord of the Rings" extend-o-version. It's 10.30pm now, so they might be close to the end. There will probably be some game console play, as well. I think I'm the best wife for handling all the kid and house duties for the entire day so he can go and pretend to be in high school for the day.

He can take the trash out. I think he can get up with the girls come morning, too. I feel in need of a late start.

movies.

My mom and I took the girlies to see "Polar Express" yesterday. It was fun and cool that all 3 of the kinder can now go out and behave appropriately. (And, yes, I consider Cha taking a nap during the movie as appropriate behavior. Although that nap meant she missed all of the movie set at the North Pole. Oh, well.) If you asked Bebe what her favorite part was, she said, "I loved the elves!" Lulu said, "I liked all the stuff on the train!" ChaCha said, "I lovedlovedloved the yummy popcorn and the Icee!" I adore that her favorite part of any situation is the food.

Archie and I have watched quite a few DVDs over the holiday. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" was quite good. It made me cry, but the next day, I had to chalk up the tears to possible hormonal causes. There was also the documentary "The Mayor of the Sunset Strip" about KROQ DJ Rodney Bingenheimer. It seemed kind of straight-forward and then veered into becoming a really sad look at a man and his damaged family and adult life. Damn. I had to go to bed when the woman he was obviously in love with said, "I have a boyfriend and Rodney is just a friend." While Rodney sat next to her. Ouch.

Then there was "Dodgeball." I know I should have hated it. I do dislike Ben Stiller. And much of the humor was over the top and gross. But I think I may be in love with Vince Vaughn. And the guy from "Firefly" who plays a pirate? Alan Tudyck, I think. I think he might be my secret boyfriend. You may want to stop reading at this point. Really. Go away.


**********
I now have a new phrase. "You had me at blood and semen." That line is so very wrong and yet so very, very right.

almost over.

I had to go to the grocery store tonight. On the way home, I saw a house I've never really noticed before. But with a Christmas tree in the front window and lights along the eaves, it was so pretty and looked so cozy. I was glad it was on the corner by a stop sign so that I could look at it for a few moments.

As I drove down our street, I saw that Archie had turned the lights on our Christmas tree on. It looked so lovely -- it's a shame we'll have to take it down in a few days.

the best present ever.

My mom is staying with us and she was appalled at the state of our dishwasher. The hinges on the door are shot and we have to prop it with a cup to load and unload. So Mom wanted to buy us a dishwasher for Christmas.

Today it was installed. It's white. I would have liked stainless, but Archie was dead-set against that. He says it's too much trouble to keep clean. So white. It's quiet. The other one was so loud we had to turn up the TV if we ran it while we were awake -- or shut the hall door if we set it to run after we went to bed. And it has a control panel lock. This is great as the girls love to press buttons and now they can press away!

And it has a 3 year warranty. It is the best present ever. I have apparently become a grown-up.

...and to all a good night.

The presents are wrapped and under the tree. (Our tree has a name. Tiggles. It had a little tag on it when Archie bought it. If the tree next year isn't named, I'm gonna call it Augie.) The stockings are stuffed with candy and assorted little goodies. Santa has eaten his cookies and the reindeer enjoyed their carrots and sugar cubes.

My 3 little ones are asleep and snoring. They had tacos for dinner -- they love to assemble food. We made the aforementioned cookies together. We checked Norad's Santa site. They didn't particularly like roasted marshmallows. They liked the idea and sticking the marshmallows into the fire, they just weren't fond of the "burn-y taste." So I got to eat lots of burnt marshmallows. (I will probably not mention "marshmallows" again until next Christmas Eve.)

All is quiet and I'm sure to be awakened early by excited little girls. After the orgy of unwrapping and exclamations of excitement over the gifts, I'll be making brunch. Fortified by mimosas, because champers always makes Christmas much more fun. Then the dinner -- prime rib, broccoli with hollandaise sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy, and Yorkshire pudding. Then pumpkin pie. Don't you wish you were coming over?

But that's all tomorrow. Tonight is relaxed and calm in anticipation. Merry Christmas to all...

mean girls.

We watched "Mean Girls" tonight. I liked it better when it was called "Heathers."

what will we do with all the time?

Last night, Archie and I (with a little help from my mom) wrapped all the kids' presents. The books and the clothes and the games and the big-ass My Little Ponies. (The scooters will be assembled tonight while we watch a movie.) My mom said, after I'd taken out the present-filled bags to the garage to wait for Christmas Eve, "This is just wrong. It's not Christmas Eve. What are you going to do on Christmas Eve? I can't remember ever having everything done before then!"

This is true and I am nothing if not my mother's daughter. Every other Christmas since we've had kids, I've been, at the least, wrapping on Christmas Eve. Several years, I was out purchasing gifts. And then wrapping. Maybe even assembling a few things. What will we do with this gift of time?

Well, it will mean that the Christmas Eve activities won't be rushed or devolve into tears and anger, like other years. We'll bake cookies and leave out the carrots and sugar cubes (the reindeer need a snack, too). Archie will build a fire and we'll roast marshmallows on stretched-out coat hangers. We'll read "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and sing a few songs. Then off to bed with the girlies. Even if they want several drinks of water or come out a few times to sneak a peek at the fire, it won't be a big deal. Because we have time.

Archie will make the pies for Christmas dinner. I'm still debating whether I should mix up the Yorkshire pudding batter. I just might do that. We'll probably enjoy an adult beverage and stare at the fire for a little while. The girls should be good and asleep by then. We'll troop out to the garage and bring in the bags with all the loot. I'll let Archie arrange everything while I stuff the stockings.

Maybe we'll watch a movie. But it won't have to be a Christmas-themed one like most years. That's a force of habit, but also a motivational tool to keep me focussed on wrapping.

I feel so virtuous with this gift of time. I want to have even more for next year. How could I arrange that? Well, I could try to do what I've wanted to ever since the girls were born -- buy everyone a gift every month. Bring it home and wrap it, label it, and stow it in a big Rubbermaid tub in the garage. Then, when the season turns festive, I'd only have stocking stuffers and maybe some special thing each girl just discovered they want. Then I'd have so much time. What would that be like?

one more story about my grandmother.

My grandma grew up on a farm. She went to a one room schoolhouse through the 8th grade. She led a rather sheltered life.

When Grandma was 16, her older sister, Wave, had a job in town working for the telephone company. One day she took my grandma in to work with her. After a time, she asked Grandma to go over to the local store and buy a bottle of milk for them to share with lunch. Wave gave her the money and told her to hurry back.

Grandma was terrified her sister was making fun of her. Milk didn't come in bottles; everyone knew it came from cows! She was afraid she would ask for a bottle of milk and the sophisticated city folks would laugh at the simple country girl, just like anyone would laugh at a man asking for a left-handed monkey wrench.

Imagine her surprise when she asked for a bottle of milk and it was handed to her, she paid for it, and took it back to the phone company!

(I remembered this story because my mother asked ChaCha where milk came from and Cha answered, "The store.")

things we said.

Yesterday was an award ceremony for the twins at their school. Here are some of the funny (and possibly evil) things Archie and I said during the festivities.

The principal announced that the awards were for perfect attendance, outstanding citizenship, and organizational skills. We weren't told what award the girls were getting. I said, "They missed 2 days for illness and if they win anything for organization, I'll clean the kitchen floor with a toothbrush for a month." Yep -- outstanding citizens. Whew, dodged a toothbrush on that one.

The girls' teacher sent home a note recently stating that, for religious reasons, she doesn't want her picture taken. As I got ready to take a photograph, I said, "Is it wrong that I have a desire to steal her soul with my digital camera?"

There are 3 kindergarten classes. In one of the other classes, one little boy got all 3 awards. Archie said, "I so want the girls to kick his butt academically and beat him out for valedictorian." I replied, "Dude, they're in kindergarten! Dial it down."

three stories about my grandmother.

1.
When my grandma was engaged to my grandpa, he taught her how to drive. One evening, he told her to drive them home from a carnival or fair or something. It was dark and the road was winding and my grandma was scared. She'd only been driving for a short while and she was afraid she would crash the car. But Grandpa didn't make any sound or say anything, so she figured she was doing a good job. Because, of course, he would say something if she made a big mistake.

She got them out of the frightening winding road area and pulled over to ask how she did. "Gordon? Gordon?" She leaned over and realized that my grandfather was asleep. And then it dawned on her that he had been asleep for the entire drive. "Gordon! Wake up! Do you know how scared I was? We could have both been killed and you were just sleeping away!" "Aw, Molly," he said (my Grandma's name was Lena May, but Grandpa always called her Molly), "I knew you wouldn't kill me."

2.
After they were married, my grandparents had two vehicles; a pickup truck and an old Model T. Both just had starters. Grandpa showed my grandmother how to take off the distributor cap so if she went into town no one could steal the car. My grandfather trained horses and drove there and was gone all day (and sometimes late into the night) and they had 3 young children at the time -- my mother, the baby of the family, and her brother, the next-to-youngest hadn't been born yet. Grandma couldn't take the kids in the pickup truck to visit with her mother or go into town, so she spent many days on the farm, alone with the kids. She hated it.

One morning, when Grandpa had been out late, Grandma got up and went out to the Model T. She took off the distributor cap and put it in her apron pocket. Grandpa got up and went out to leave. He tried to start the car, and it wouldn't start. He got in the truck and left. My grandmother loaded up the kids and went to visit her mother. Neither of them ever mentioned that the car wouldn't start or that there was some problem with it.


3.
My grandparents' house only had a coal stove for heat. The chair my grandma sat in was right under a register near the stove that opened up into the kids' bedroom on the second floor. Grandpa would often bring Grandma a Milky Way candy bar -- often as an apology for staying out late. She would put it on top of the icebox. After the kids were in bed, she'd get her candy bar and sit down in her chair. As she opened the wrapper, the kids could hear the crackling of the paper. They'd call, "Mommy? Do you have a candy bar? Mommy? Can we have bites?" And she'd go upstairs and give each of the 5 kids a bite, leaving not a lot for her. One of my uncles had a habit of bringing Grandma Milky Ways when he came to visit. (All those many years later, when I was spending the night at her apartment, I'd hear her opening the wrapper. "Grandma? Do you have a candy bar? Grandma? Can I have a bite?" I'd call from the bedroom. She'd always give me a bite. It did leave a lot more for her, though, since it was only me.)

At her funeral, my uncle's family's wreath had several Milky Ways attached. And they were put in the casket with her, so she'd have some candy on her final journey -- and not have to share them.