Work their fingers to the bone

Today was chore day...

Really, I am not a bad mother, just because I make my kids do hard manual labor at the ages of 3 and 6. And lets not even get into the fact that Ben is still running a fever! Honest, I kept asking him if he wanted to go lay down and rest, but he wanted to do work.

Sarah and Ben both had their first lessons in laundry folding.

Ben learned to wash laundry.

Sarah Vacuumed and vacuumed and vacuumed...

While Ben cleaned the bathroom

And... helped make dinner

They were such a big help and they were so proud of themselves. We had a great afternoon and they went to bed asking what chores they can do tomorrow! Ha... suckers!

More about our Poppy Trip

On Saturday, the kids and I went to see the Poppies (Big Ben couldn't go because he was knee high in poop, but that's a story for later). I have tried to see them the last two years, but each time have been too late to catch much of the bloom. So this year, the trip was happening early, no matter what.
There are pictures of me as a little girl visiting the California Poppies. The only memories I have of them are the ones etched in my mind by the photos. So, like a dutiful parent, I intend to do the same to my children.
A little background on the California Poppy Reserve, from their official website:

This State Reserve, nestled in the Antelope Buttes 15 miles west of Lancaster, California, is located on California's most consistent poppy-bearing land. Other wildflowers: owl's clover, lupine, goldfield, cream cups, and coreopsis, to name a few, share the desert grassland to produce a mosaic of color and fragrance each spring. As unpredictable as nature - the intensity and duration of the wildflower bloom varies yearly.

The Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve is located in the western Antelope Valley at an elevation ranging from 2600--3000 feet. It is the high desert. Until the early 1970's Sheep once grazed the buttes in the western Antelope Valley. Pronghorn grazed long before then, until the railroad of the 1880’s. Park management has excluded sheep from grazing the hillsides.

California State Parks does not water or use any other means to stimulate the flowers; the land is preserved to only be influenced by the natural forces that had once influenced all of our surroundings.

Doesn't that just sound thrilling and exciting? However, much to the concern of my children, I'm too cheap to pay the $5 parking fee to enter the reserve. Instead, the children and I, driving my little Corolla, off-roaded it. I'm not sure if we were supposed to go where we went, but we did. Besides the thrill of dodging the parking fee, the best part was that by doing this we were able to see the same poppies that are on the reserve, but we didn't have to see the crowds of people on the reserve.

Once again, Sarah was my star photo subject. Ben wasn't feeling well, and did not want to pose for pictures. I thought he was just being a pansy, but two hours later, he had a temperature of 103.5. Oh, why do my children do things like insist on having legitimate sicknesses while I am in the throws of picture selfishness? Is it so that later I must feel extreme amounts of guilt related anguish? Ok, I'm over it... now I might just have to go back, and put him through the torture again, so that I can get the happy pictures that I had my heart set on.

Anyway, the poppies, are the one and only thing I like about the Antelope Valley! They are beautiful and the opportunity for us to drive such a short distance off our mountain to see them, is truely an added bonus to living where we do.

Trip to see the Poppies

Make a scrapbook - it's easy!

Oh, happy dry day!

Bring out the bells and whistles! Everyone gather around and join in my great celebration!

My kids are pee'ers. We aren't talking occasional accidents, we are talking terrible potty training experiences and flooding their beds every night. They flood their bed and sleep right through, waking up in the morning laying in cold pee. I'm convinced it has something to do with my parenting style, but I've yet to figure out what. Somewhere along the way I just had to reassure myself that they wouldn't be 18 years old and still peeing their pants and then I moved on. As they've gotten older it has gotten better during the day. However, there is still the occasional embarrassment of my 6 year old laughing so hard in kindergarten that he comes home hiding wet pants with his backpack.

We've learned incredible coping mechanisms for dealing with the floods. I almost always carry extra underwear and pants in my car. Ben knows how to strategically cover wet spots with his backpack, sweatshirt or books. And Pullups! Pullups are our best friends. Like clockwork the kids put them on each night before bed. The thought of being without them is even a little scary.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't that I've resigned myself to this. Every few months, I've tried to move them beyond it. We have tried nights of sleeping in underwear, limiting evening liquids, waking them up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Nothing has worked.

Last night, the scariest thing of all happened. I was down to one pullup for 2 kids. Running to the local store to pick up some more isn't an option. There is no where in our little town to buy them without breaking the bank. I had no option but to talk to the kids about it. I explained the situation and told them that one of them would have to sleep in underwear. Little Sarah volunteered. She told me that she thought she could do it.

At dinner I reminded Sarah to not drink so much milk. I had her stop at the potty one last time before crawling into bed. Then an hour after bed time she called for me to tell me she needed to go to the bathroom. She got up and went. And the miracle... when she woke up this morning she was DRY. Dry as a bone! She was so excited and proud of herself. I think I might have been more excited. Ben, who wore a pullup to bed was extremely quiet about the whole matter.

I'm jumping on this. Now that I know she can do it, we aren't going to buy new pullups. Hopefully, the taste of success will motivate her to continue the trend.

Yayyy, Sarah!

Excuse me, I think I'm gonna be sick...

Warning: The pictures contained in this post may be disturbing.

I am a wuss!

The first time I remember being a wuss was when I was a freshman in high school health. I remember Mrs. Backman going over the details of compound fractures and explaining the first aid that should be administered. Other students were fascinated and asking multiple questions. But I sat quietly. The room began spinning and my stomach felt shaky. There is not much that is more embarrassing than having to draw attention to yourself in a freshman high school class by raising your hand and telling the teacher that you are going to be ill. Thankfully, she was sympathetic and excused me to step out for some air.

The episodes have continued. I don't know what it is about dilated eyeballs and nicotine patches that make me so sick, but I'll be darned if any detailed thought about them doesn't send me into queasiness. As a senior in high school the Red Cross lady told me it would probably be best if I didn't even try to give blood. Apparently, my blood isn't worth the hassle of reviving me if I passed out or the mess if I threw up in their care.

On one of my first visits with Ben's parents, the embarrassing wussiness came to light again. Ben's mom had recently been in the hospital and began telling us what had happened. When she started to describe details, I almost lost it. I tried to request that the description stop, but it seems difficult for many people to believe how wussy I can actually be. Finally, when I had to stand up and leave the room, the seriousness was conveyed.

I wish I didn't have this weakness. I wish I was as tough as my kids when it comes to gorey things. Heck, I wish I could at least articulate what it is exactly that triggers me... I also wish the word nauseous didn't make me sick, but it does, so I try to stick with queasy. I know this is really strange, isn't it?

On Saturday when I was making scalloped potatoes for Easter dinner, I scalloped myself. The slicer was dull and on the last potato for the dish, I sliced off the knuckle on my middle finger. I did a fantastic job of it. It seems that my knuckle was about the only thing the slicer was slicing well. Almost instantly I was bleeding, in pain and worst of all, the thought of what I had done was making me incredibly queasy. Luckily, Ben came to my aid. Even though my mom was standing right there next to me, the wuss gene is highly hereditary and she was as disgusted as I was. For three days I wasn't even able to look at the wound when Ben was changing the bandage for me. Finally, on Tuesday, I was able to look at it and even snap a couple of pictures. I don't believe these pictures really do it justice or show the depth of the wound. It still hurts! See, I warned you that I'm a wuss...

My new camera

As promised, pictures taken with my new camera.

Sarah is enjoying Dr. Seuss week at school. Today was Wacky Wednesday. Last night we set out her planned "wacky" attire. However, when she got up this morning and started getting dressed she became concerned about the level of wackiness. She told me she wanted to make sure that noone would laugh at her. Ultimately, this is what she finally decided on wearing to school:

Just to show his support, Ben also wore two different shoes to daycare also.

This is what I saw on my way to work this morning. I had to pull over and get a picture.

Close your blinds, please!

We have neighbors who refuse to cover their windows. I am very disturbed by this. To add insult to injury, they are very large people. Honest, I'm not judging them for their size. I'm judging them for their brazen disregard of society standards of privacy. It isn't my fault that I can't help but stare in their window every time I pull in or out of our driveway. To make matters worse, they have nothing on their walls, not a picture or a painted wall. When their lights are on, all I can see is a giant picture window with a giant man sitting in his recliner.

The other two neighbors who have semi-direct views of this house, have moved and abandoned their homes without even selling them. It as if they were fleeing! I think I'm beginning to understand the reason.

Monday, when I got home from work, I discovered UPS had accidentally delivered a box to our house that was meant for our non-privacy seeking neighbors. Wanting to be a good neighbor I had to take the box over to them. It was a strange feeling to come face to face with the people who have hidden nothing of their personal lives from the neighborhood. This is the first time that I have technically had any interaction with these neighbors, even though I have felt that I have to much contact with their private life. When I got up close I discovered that they live in the most minimalistic, bare house I have ever seen. Even opting for tiled floors instead of carpet.

Their house has been up for sale since we moved into the neighborhood a year ago. I think maybe they need to watch that show on TLC about getting your house all prettied up to sell. Right now the curb appeal of a large man in a recliner... is not going to sell the house!