Snobby Monday: {In and} Out on the town.

Spending time with my nieces and nephews is one of my favorite ways to pass my days off. You might think that after days of working with my kids at work that the last thing I would want to do on my days off is be around other children, but that’s not the case at all.

In fact, I wouldn’t even mind the company of my work kids on my days off if it wasn’t for the fact that they are so used to me meeting their needs when I am with them that I wouldn’t be able to relax. But hanging out with my family is completely different.

For instance, this morning when I woke up on my sister’s couch to my four year old nephew asking for a drink of water I didn’t curse out loud or even in my head. I got up and got him a drink of water and then I talked to him and he made me smile.

Part of the problem is that I’ve lived with so many of my family’s kids and now I miss them all the time, but part of is just that I don’t have to do things for them but they still want me to and hat makes me happy.

We hung out at Brianne’s house all morning and I barely moved from the couch until 11 o’clock. When we did get into gear it was to have lunch with my mom and then shop a bit.

I haven’t been in a Target in forever, not because there aren’t any in New York but because there aren’t any in New York that are in the vicinity of places I like to go on my days off. One of my biggest complaints about the greater New York area is that it takes SO LONG to from store to store unless they are adjacent inside on large complex. So I stick to my favorites and whatever happens to be next door to them.

But I got to Target today and spent less than ten dollars (go me!) and I also got a peek at the Stroud Mall, the mall I grew up avoiding.

It has undergone several years of renovation since my childhood. I remember a day probably 11 or 12 years back when some genius thought carpeting would be a good idea, They put actual carpet down in the big open wing of the mall and then let the public walk on it for ten plus years.

Gross, right?

It’s gone now and so is the movie theater that plagued Stroud Township and the surrounding Burroughs. I don’t know when exactly it opened up, although a small Google search can probably answer that question, but I know by the time I was a teenager it was layered in everlasting stickiness and the chairs were all broken. There were no cup holders and the screens were not equipped for all the mega-tech stuff they can do in movies now.

My friends and I used to drive 40 minutes outside of town to see anything.

In place of the old theater, a shiny, giant new cinema now occupies an entire wing of the mall.

Talk about not being able to go home again.

I have remarked to my family members before that every time I go back there something is different. Buildings burned down, stores close, stores move, new places open up and flop and vanish again. Today I found out that the train depot that was a restaurant for years and burnt down a while back has been hefted up, lifted across the tracks and now sits there, still near its home along the train track, rotting.

Times. Have. Changed.

To make myself feel even older I have been thinking a lot about actual serious things lately.

Act One of getting my life together was acquiring this job. I am now six months in and almost finished with Act Two: getting out of debt. By my one year anniversary at this job I will be debt free and dancing in the streets.

But right after that dance celebration I have to start thinking about the actual real future. MY actual real future, And while T is living under the delusion that my future is forever entwined in hers, I have some other opinions on the matter.

I’m so excited by how God has changed my life in one half year. I can’t wait to see what’s next and I am already struggling with my old desire to get on with it and see what’s next. I’m itching.

To scratch my itch I am focusing on the good times I am having now, in NYC and at home.

I spent this evening spoiling myself with my favorite dinner companion and we stuffed ourselves at THE best restaurant I’ve been to since…well, Thanksgiving. I can’t ever complain for lack of fine dining, but I will say that the food tonight would rival ANYTHING found in New York and it was right here (well, back there -- I am on the bus steadily getting further from home) in the Poconos, tucked away in the Delaware Water Gap.

It was amazing and this trip was a monstrous success.

And now we play the running from station to station game to see if I can get home by midnight.

Ready…GO!

Buses and trains and cabs; oh my!

Well, I’m typing on the bus, something not as easy as it looks when you watch the guy across the aisle doing it.

I’m extremely happy right now for several reasons.

The main one being that even though T couldn’t work it out so I could go to church and to lunch afterward, she did surprise me halfway through the day by telling me that I wasn’t needed tonight and so if I wanted to go the Poconos tonight instead of tomorrow she would help me do so.

I rewarded her by bathing and feeding the kids while she was at dinner and then E drove me to the train.

The second reason I am so happy is that I made it to the bus, without rushing, without talking to any crazy people and without having to buy a train ticket. I had forgotten that I have two Long Island Railroad tickets leftover from New Year’s Eve when the conductors didn’t have the faintest hope of getting through the train to punch tickets. Thanks to Taryn not actually living in Great Neck and giving me her unused ticket, I will be traveling home free as well.

The third reason I am happy is that I just had the pleasure of chatting with a stranger while waiting for the bus. She was probably my mom’s age, an age I have a very easy time befriending. I don’t know if it’s because I hung out with my mom so much as a kid or if it is because I myself am a much older person trapped in a timeless 23 year old body (I AM 23) but it is highly enjoyable. This woman was from Atlanta originally and she’s been living in East Burg for a year, very close to where my sister and mom live now and where I am headed tonight. We talked about kids, school and traveling for forty minutes until it was time to board, at which time I thanked her for the conversation and she said, “Thanks to you too! Have a wonderful life!” She reminded me of my sister’s mother-in-law; funny and nice and bubbly in a subtle way.

My fourth reason for being happy? I’m wearing another size smaller jeans!!! Granted they are sucking the life out of me but hey, I can get into them! Two months ago I couldn’t. I would just bounce around my room trying for ten minutes and then cry while I ate celery.

Just kidding.

About the crying, not the bouncing. That happened.

I’ve actually been really bad lately. I’ve fallen off the restricted-diet wagon and I have had heartburn several times in the past week. I had a dairy relapse and I’ve been eating sour cream on EVERYTHING. This is not good.

In spite of that, I went to buy clothes in the next size down and Kmart in Penn Station obligingly had 50% off sales storewide so I was able to get a bunch of shirts that will unravel in 6 to 8 weeks, but only cost $3. So, I win.

So tonight I am happily riding the bus into Pennsylvania and hoping to have some quality time with Mom, my sister Brianne and my favorite friend to have dinner with.

Earlier this evening I told the kids I was headed out tonight and that I would be back late tomorrow and would see them Tuesday morning. R wanted to know who she is supposed to play with all day tomorrow and I had to remind her that she has school and Hebrew school to keep her occupied. She was ok with it after that, but she groaned anyway and as she walked away she said, “Always going away…to Africa.”

I had to explain that I was only going to Pennsylvania and then we had to rehash everything on the globe again.

J didn’t seem to care much, but as I was leaving tonight Monkey came into the kitchen and said, “Timmy, I jacket.” I guess he is so used to being stuck home with me and only going out when I do that he was confused as to why I was leaving him behind. I saw him waving from the dining room window as we pulled out of the garage. It was so sad.

But not sad enough to go back.

Mud pies.

This morning was a groggy, stumbling blur.

Somehow we all got fed and dressed and the kids headed out for a birthday party while the baby and I mopped the floor and then sat for a while.

The sitting didn't last nearly long enough before he decided to gag and puke his lunch again.

Before you go feeling all bad for him, let me fill you on the gag reflex that is running through this family.

I've always thought my gag reflex was pretty terrible. I can barely brush my teeth without wanting to barf a little. I have trouble drinking things too fast, or with certain smells, but I don't typically yack.

But the streak of throat discomfort in this gene pool is serious.

T can barely swallow a pill. Any pill. It's horrifying to watch.

And so the two boys have inherited this inability to swallow things, sometimes even things they like. Monkey really likes the rice dish that he upchucked on my leg last week. And today it was a lentil soup that he is quite fond of. He ate nearly the entire bowl but then that last bite just caught him the wrong way, he coughed, he gagged, he soiled his chair.

And of course the chair is a woven wicker number, nothing easy to clean or salvageable. It is currently against the wall, soaking in every cleanser I could think of, awaiting judgement day.

Both grandmas made appearances today, albeit short ones. I was too busy trying to stay awake to even care when Mom E fed Monkey a banana and blueberries even though he's already had two servings of fruit today. Whatever happens in his diaper happens. There is only so much I can do.

The kids kept me busy until dinner time with requests for library books. I read all twelve of the ones we have out now, ending with their new favorite character, Pig Pig. Pig Pig is a mentally deficient pig whose mother suffers from eighties hair syndrome. In our newest story he wants to make and sell mud pies.

So naturally I told the kids that we were having mud pies for dinner and that set off a screaming session to rival all other loud noises.

But the kids did so well with their actual dinners I just had to brag about it a little bit here. I've mentioned how much progress we've made with meal times. Tonight they all came when called, began to eat and then when E made an appearance, hesitantly entering the kitchen and testing the waters before joining us at the table, THEY ALL KEPT EATING and no one pulled any shenanigans.

I don't know if this will be a repeated behavior in the near future because I believe a lot of non-dinner related factors were at play here, but still, it was amazing to not have to chase E and T out of the room because the kids only eat when they are not visible.

Monkey gobbled up his food, gagged on some zucchini, which he loves, drank some water and ran upstairs to play with Mommy.

The other two finished in a timely manner and didn't even argue when I said we were not having dessert tonight because they had enough junk at the birthday party.

An all around successful day!

I was asked to stop spoiling the dog though. It's funny how I'm not a dog person at all and yet he can talk me into anything. He just sits on the floor at my feet and looks up at me with eyes that say, "I see no reason why I shouldn't have another carrot. I mean, they're good for me. They're good for my vision." And he's right, they are. And no one else eats the carrots anyway, so I don't see the harm in letting him have one or six.

T gives him a lot of carrots too.

Really what E is worried about is the amount of times I've been letting Willie out every day. He's used to one potty run in the morning, one in the afternoon and one at night. But on those cold days last week we could barely get him out the door once, let alone twice. Since the weather has been friendlier this week I've been letting him out every time we pass by a door and he's soaking it up.

E doesn't want him to grow accustomed to a life of luxury only to have a blizzard come destroy everything. Especially not with all the new rugs he's been bringing home.

So.

I guess I'll just go back to reminding the kids how much they want a cat.

My puh puh puh poker face.

The last few days have been riddled with dancing and music. Ever since I received my new fancy phone and T learned how to use hers there has been music throughout the house almost all the time. We have an iHome in the kitchen and there is an ancient stereo system built into the playroom (part of the 'estate') and T keeps iHomes in the bedrooms too so we can drown out our loud parties at night.

Or something.

I'm introducing the kids to quality music like Reba McEntire from the nineties and John Michael Montgomery and They Might Be Giants.

Unfortunately, they have already been poisoned by today's garbage and they request things like "I'm sexy and I know it" by the stupidest person on Earth and Rihanna, the runner up. Yesterday J followed me around asking if I could put on Lady Gaga.

I cringed inwardly.

And then outwardly.

I have been listening to (and I am pretty ashamed of this) a lot of Pink lately. Or is it P!nk? You know, I have no respect for people who have punctuation in their names.

But she has one or two songs that I don't find disturbing or nasty and they are catchy and she does have a good voice, so I sought her out on the iPod upstairs today while I was organizing closets.

I was singing and working when Monkey dropped his toys and stood next to the desk where the iHome is that he can't reach and started yelling, "turn it off! turn it off!" He apparently hates Pink (P!nk).

I would admire that, except what he wanted me to put on was worse.

He really likes LMFAO. Acronym bands are only a step up from punctuated names, but the music of this particular group I liken to actual garbage. Stinking, rotten, leaking, strange, brownish green colored juices garbage.

Don't worry, I'm not holding anything back.

We compromised in that I turned on a song he liked for thirty seconds until he was distracted with a book and then I turned on whatever I wanted again.

I spent this morning and yesterday morning reorganizing all the clothes that I organized when I first moved here. The bags and bags of off-season and other sized clothes for the kids have gotten jumbled around every time a kid grows an inch or somebody gives T another donation.

Plus, I had to prepare all the baby stuff and get it moved to the top because I AM READY.

AND IT BETTER BE A GIRL because I found so many adorable dresses up there. I'm really hoping for a girl with J's temperament and my sense of humor.

Wait.

Yesterday was a normal Thursday all day, until the evening when T had made fake dinner plans to get E to his surprise birthday party. The party was going to be an adult affair and it was late, not scheduled to start until 9, so T and I had our work cut out for us. She knew he would never believe his sister would make a 9 o'clock dinner plan so they told him eight. We were counting on T's perpetual tardiness to save us.

I did my part by not doing anything. T and I agreed beforehand to make it a bath night and then just to slow things down even more we'd suggest that they shower the kids so that it would be "faster." Showering them actually takes ten times as long, but he doesn't know that.

They have to shower in the master bathroom because theirs has no curtain.

So first, there's the ordeal of getting them in there, remembering you need their soaps and shampoos, getting them back in there, remembering you need towels and washcloths, you see where I'm going with this?

The best part was that after they were showered, T and I just checked out.

She sat down, had a drink, struck up a conversation, didn't know what to wear.

I put away some laundry and then disappeared. I never do that. Even on the nights when I am not technically working, it's easier on me to help get the kids ready for bed than to deal with them coming downstairs to talk to me while I am watching TV.

But E didn't notice either one of us slacking off.

The kids asked him to read to them and he obliged. Whatever the vibe we were sending out, it worked and after four or five failed attempts to get T to hurry up he just gave up and began taking his sweet time too.

It was nearly nine when they left and I think when he realized it had gotten late, he was annoyed. But he didn't say anything.

This morning we were halfway through the breakfast routine when T said something about last night and I said, "Oh yeah, how was last night?"

To which he replied in a mocking voice, "Oh yeah, how was last night?" Then, "YOU knew? Did everyone know?"

I guess he was piecing together how the whole world had been against him the evening before.


Today, both T and E had to go into the city and whenever that happens the chances of them making it back by dinner time go from slim to absolutely none.

And it's Shabbat.

So after the kids were all ready to go and I fed them first dinner, we sat down to watch youtube videos until Mommy and Daddy got home. We were just getting bored when T's sister called to say she was going to pick us up to go to her mom's for dinner and E and T would meet us there.

We ran to let the dog out, get our coats and get out the door. While the two bigger kids ran out to the waiting van, I held the 150 ton baby in one arm, the diaper bag in the other and tried to set the alarm.

It didn't beep reassuringly and so I had to do it twice and then when I was all set I found the dumb dog in the garage. REALLY WILLIE?

We made it to dinner though, and I fed the rascals right away so that I could enjoy my weekly half a pound of guacamole. T's mom makes the BEST guacamole I have ever tasted. T's sister's husband was asleep on the couch in the room where the kids usually play so we had to entertain them elsewhere until he got up.

E and T made it and after dinner, during the late night scramble to get the kids into pajamas and washed up before heading out, I had the pleasure of watching my kids listen obediently to me, T and E, while their cousins ran around like little monsters.

I was beside myself with joy when I finally stepped in, barked orders, and the unruly little terrors listened right away.

When Kimmy speaks, children listen.

T's been telling me lately how unfair it is. Last night she put Monkey to bed and he stood up five minutes later and began chanting, "I don't want to bed, I don't want to bed." When she went in to his room to lay him down, where she would normally take him out and hold him and try to make him feel better she instead said, "Do you want me to go get Kimmy?" And he threw himself onto his pillow and didn't say anything for the rest of the night.

You know why children fear me?

They can't read my poker face, my puh puh puh poker face.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uy3DumbiL54&feature=share

Dance, dance party.

I took the baby to the library yesterday for a play group that never materialized. One of T's friends made the plan and then neglected to tell anyone it was changed. But, no matter, I needed to get there anyway. We had five overdue movies and I wanted to be sure that my massive, scary book could be renewed because it is stamped all over "28 day book" and I am not even halfway through it.

It's just too scary.

T dropped us off and we went inside, he ran around for an hour before I admitted to myself that the rain was not going to stop and I needed to just suck it up and walk us home.

But first we paid our fine and hit the movie section.

We now have five of the seven Harry Potter movies in stock, but still not the first two. Great Neck baffles me sometimes. They finally had a copy of Beauty and the Beast, R has been waiting and waiting to see it. And then another new addition caught my eye.

Tangled!

The greatest movie ever made.

We took it home and watched it immediately. R has seen it before, with me, on my Netflix. And I have watched it on Netflix countless times.

But it's just not the same thing.

This morning after everyone was gone, I put it in and turned the volume all the way up. The baby and I spent the morning cleaning from room to room while Mandy Moore sang for us. We danced around and around until he was so tired he could barely stand.

This afternoon J brought his cousin home from school with him and they asked if they could watch Maximus the horse. OF COURSE!

We put it on and had another dance party.

T's mom came at 3 o'clock and I had my first Persian cuisine cooking lesson. I made raisin rice, which is the best thing to ever happen to rice.

Rice and I have a long, violent history full of bitter hatred and blatant disgust. Growing up I think my mom made rice six out of seven nights a week. It was a staple at our house, with tacos, with chicken, with beef, with EVERYTHING. Plain, white rice.

Several of my nieces and nephews prefer it to almost any other food in the world. Even the kids I care for now will eat three bowls of white rice before even trying one bite of any given vegetable.

But not me.

I hate the stuff. To me, it's like eating empty calories that taste like nothing, only worse, because this nothing has a grainy aftertaste. I used to douse it in salt and try to choke it down but most often I would wrap it into my napkin and throw it away, or dig a hole in the trash can an bury it way, way down hoping it never saw the light of day again. It was awful.

Since I have been rapidly nearing adulthood (almost there!) I have discovered that several of the foods I detested as a child are somewhat tolerable. Onions and olives made it from my black list onto my list of favorites. But rice hasn't had much of a chance to go anywhere. Not on its own.

But since getting in touch with my middle Eastern side I learned something about rice.

The expensive kind doesn't taste like the pan it was cooked in.

It tastes like long grain heaven.

And the way they mix it up with various spices and lentils and vegetables just makes me want to cry for joy. I don't now how to pronounce correctly, much less spell the names of half of these dishes, but tonight I learned how to cook my favorite one.

T's mom is so nice and she is a very funny teacher. She doesn't measure, as most cultures who pass down recipes from mother to daughter (or in our case mother to nanny) don't, and so we ended up with a double batch of the whole thing. After the rice was done, we hung out with the kids and showed her our dance moves.

We're pretty good booty shakers if I may say so myself.

And I do.

Hot chocolate hour.

We finally got our snow!!!

The kids and I have been keeping an eye out for it for weeks, months even. When everyone else got a huge storm at Halloween and all we got was stuck inside because none of the trains were running, we were furious. Ever since then the question has been "Where's our snow?" And I asked them all the time. Every day that it was cold but not worth it I would interrogate R about where she was hiding our snow.

And then it came.

Not a lot, and not good enough to make a snowman or the igloo I have been dreaming of for two years now (why is winter so lame anymore?!) but still enough to have fun. Enough to make it worth layering three shirts and two pairs of pants and four pairs of socks on myself and each child and heading outside.

Yesterday morning T came out with us and we put the baby in a girl's snowsuit and giant mittens and dragged him out too. He wanted to be out there but he spent the entire time yelling "OPEN!" because he wanted his mittens off.

It was so bitter cold that after a few snow angels and a snow pile we had to go inside. The kids handled it pretty well with the promise of hot chocolate. I had to pull T's boots off because her belly suddenly popped out this week and she can't bend and pull at the same time. It's one or the other.

While I was pulling and she was holding onto the chair to avoid being dragged out of it and we were both laughing she said, "Wait til E finds out I shoveled everything! You're gonna be in trouble!" She shoveled everything before anyone else got outside, not that I would have done it anyway. But it was a light and fluffy snow so she hadn't actually exerted herself. And if E was so concerned, he should have gotten out of bed.

But it was his birthday, so he didn't until nearly noon.

We spent the day drinking hot chocolate and coffee and eating fruit and homemade things like home fries and eggs and stuffed crust pizza and soup. It was Carb Day in this house and J had a muffin and rice for lunch. Poor Willie Nelson got so sick of his only table scraps being bread and Cheerios that he avoided us all for the rest of the day.

He had really made out on Friday when we hosted Shabbat and E's sister kept sneaking him food. She has such a soft spot for him and kept asking me what she could give him. As a result he followed her around then entire night, eating carrots (his favorite) and tortilla chips. When she tried to give him chocolate cake I had to lay down the law.

But that cake was amazing. Just so you know.

By Saturday evening the kids were tuckered. They hardly slept Friday night, since our company didn't leave until 11. E and T went out for dinner and I tossed all the tots into bed early. As I was tucking J in he asked me why I didn't sleep with him anymore and I said it was because he's been eating so well and now he's a big boy. He smiled so big and said, "Kimmy, I love you" and then rolled right over and went to sleep.

This morning was more of the same, but since it's my Sabbath I didn't even clean up the kitchen. E and T had to run out for an open house this morning so I fed the kids and we headed back outside.

In his little girl's suit and his long hair Monkey looks just like a girl. The girl version of Randy, from A Christmas Story, to be exact. He can move his arms, but just barely and he can't pick anything up with his big, clumsy mittens. He just walks behind everyone else, falling repeatedly and getting all covered in snow. Yesterday he face-planted and when he stood up he looked like he might kill someone. Today he was a little more careful to keep his head up when falling, but still, when I pulled out the camera and told him to say cheese he shot daggers at me with his eyes, gritted his teeth and grumbled, "Cheese" just once before turning his back on me.

I almost died laughing.

R got a sand shovel and cleared a few places in the vicinity of Willie's favorite dumping ground. We let him come out and he did his business, not in the designated area and then ran back inside. Willie hates the snow. He hates the cold and he hates when we tell him to go on the grass, like we usually do, but now he can't find it.

He also hates how EVERY time we let him out we forget about him.

But he's learning to knock on the door and wait like everyone else.

Yesterday after E finally got out of bed he and T took J and went for a scenic drive.

I was hanging out with R while the baby napped when Willie needed to go out. I actually didn't forget him that time and was all proud of myself because I wouldn't have to get up twice, when the doorbell rang.

I flew to it, cursing whoever was at it and hissing at the dog to shut up before the noise woke the baby. At the door stood a Latino man, blowing cigarette smoke into my face and the house and asking me if he could shovel our property.

I told him no as nicely as I could manage through my irritation, which wasn't his fault since my "don't ring the bell" sign hasn't been posted for a few months now. Willie calmed himself back down and went to sleep in some far corner of the house again, which is where is his now as I write.

I am hanging out with J in the basement while R is at a dance class and the baby is asleep. After our foray into the snow this morning we came in to discover we are out of milk for real hot chocolate. I made them some instant and disguised lunch as a snack, sneaking leftovers onto the table while they talked and played and consumed.

When everyone was satisfactorily full we had a massive dance party while R got dressed for dance. She was under the impression that she was attending a party, since she adamantly refuses to join any kind of class, ever, at all. We were playing a hug trick on her, to get in tights and a skirt, to get her in shoes good for dancing. But it worked and she went and I haven't had any phone calls from her aunt who picked her up that she is freaking out about the truth of her destination.

That punk is probably enjoying herself.

And I am enjoying myself, snuggled into three sweatshirts in this chilly basement while J drives every toy car he owns around on the rug and we await the arrival of his friend for a play date.

I think I'll have another cup of hot chocolate coffee.

Horse fence.

Today I put my phone down for twenty whole minutes!

I finally synced my iTunes to my new baby and so all day long while I am working I carry it around with me and sing Reba McEntire songs at the top of my lungs while the baby trails me, dancing.

He really likes "I'd rather ride around with you" and he yells "Again! Again!" each time it ends.

I cleaned everything today because we are hosting Shabbat tomorrow as Saturday is E's birthday. I found out that he is 18 years older than me so someone can do the math on that and get back to me. T just turned a mid-thirties number but a lady never tells her age to I won't go and spoil it for her. And just so you know, I am only 19.

Well, in this blog anyway.

It occurred to me today that I haven't shared just exactly what a normal day around here looks like in a while. Things change gradually and then one day it just dawns on us that it's different.

For instance, Monkey no longer allows himself to be closely watched. He's very sneaky, very naughty and he thinks this is all very funny. Every now and then you can find him perched on the glass coffee table, snickering. Or standing on the closed toilet lid, holding his breath in anticipation of getting caught.

It really keeps us all on our toes.

But a normal day now consists of a much later nap for him, which means a much later nap for me. The kids come back from school at different times and so I have alone time with R each day. On Mondays and Thursdays while she is in Hebrew school I have some quiet time with J and of course, Monkey hogs me all morning, every morning.

It's been really cool to see each child growing in the last six months. This is the first time I have lived with a family and been an intimate part of the family's development.

I now call the kids to dinner and on most nights they come to the table and sit down and eat. We tell stories and talk while we eat and now that E's office is local and T is reaching the LARGE stages of pregnancy, they are often home for dinner and the six of us crowd in around the tiny, stupid kitchen table.

Bed time is no longer a fight.

The kids clean up their toys when asked, although I rarely ask because it is just so much easier to do it myself while they are not home.

R dresses without screaming fits. Again, most days. Of course we have bad days too but you may recall that when I started here every day was a bad day. (This blog was born out of a need to survive or to at least tell my story if Long Island killed me)

Tonight I made pesto and chicken, a dish the kids had never tasted or seen and they ate it, even J, the picky eater. He said he didn't like it once, I told him that was not allowed and he climbed up into his chair and ate every bite. He even finished first.

I'm not tooting my own horn, just marveling at how far we've come.

In 6 months.

This afternoon's normalcy was interrupted by a fencer.

E and T put a deposit on a fence LAST YEAR when they moved into the house. They received a call back YESTERDAY and were informed that a team would be arriving at the house at noon today.

At 11:45 the doorbell rang, while I was in the middle of feeding the baby lunch.

T had planned on being home for this, but she wasn't yet because he was early and she was running late (not an uncommon occurrence although she admits it and plans for it) so it was up to me to go show the man the property line that the fence would follow.

The trouble was I had no idea where it was and I was wearing slippers.

Still, I grabbed a coat and went outside and with T on the phone I tried to follow her directions. It felt like a treasure hunt.

"Stand on that piece of slate." (Which reminded me of my sister -- 'You know that green thing in the back yard?' <3) "Follow it all the way to the left, to the tree line. There's a stake in the ground under an evergreen tree."

There was not stake.

But under the corner of the retaining wall was the grill cover.

As I hacked my way through evergreens and birches and what I am sure was poison ivy (thankfully my slippers are boots) I searched for the nonexistent stake. All I found was mud.

"This isn't in my job description."

She laughed and told me to give up. The fencing company had been given instructions to build 11 feet out from the wall. She decided to just work with that.

I put the cover back on the grill and headed inside.

The fence went up, and then back down when T got home and found the stake. It wasn't 11 feet out. It was more like 6. The poor guy had to fill in his holes and move them but then he got the fence back up.

He put up exactly enough lengths to fulfill the deposit amount they had made the year before. It's a beautiful raw wood horse fence and I can't wait to take pictures of the kids along it. All fifteen feet of it, because apparently that's what their deposit was worth. It stops randomly in the center of the yard along the retaining wall.

But the man was incredibly nice and he did a good job, cleaned up, took down a rotted fence on the other side of the yard, had a glass of water and headed on his way, leaving us with a more distinguished property line.

Well, in that one corner of the back yard anyway.