Layin' Low

We haven't had much excitement the last couple days, which is probably a good thing, because it also means not much drama. We've pretty much just been hanging out, trying not to roast to death. This week hasn't been as hot as last week, so we're doing pretty well.

Yesterday, in an attempt to beat the heat, we went to the "beach," a.k.a. the American Falls Reservoir. It was not very pleasant. The water was absolutely filthy. I expected a little yuck; fish poop and water plants floating around, but it was beyond that. There was some murky mystery-froth along the shore, and little granules of something (maybe fish eggs? or dirt that floats?) floating around, and we had to wade really far out to get away from it, but my sandals kept getting stuck in the mud, and there was no way I was going to walk around without them.

Of course, Fearless Owen had no problems. As soon as we got his life jacket on him, he was running and splashing and dunking his face in the water.

Drew, on the other hand, cried the majority of the time because the sand was hot (it wasn't, really) and the water was cold (again, not really the case) and Owen splashed it in his eye (this, Owen actually did, a few times). Drew was a pretty miserable little boy.

So Drew and I sat on a towel on the sand, brushing off hundreds of tiny spiders and huge flies, while David and Owen made a sand castle. David found a plastic cup on the beach, which Owen filled with water and dumped on the sand, and David made a moat surrounding a lump of sand (Owen kept grabbing handfuls of the "castle" and throwing them in the water, reducing it to just a lump). It was fun watching Owen run back and forth with his water cup, like he was really helping. After a while, even Drew got interested, and he grabbed a stick and helped dig out the moat. But I think the whole castle building only lasted about 20 minutes before we all decided we'd had enough sun and dirt (except for Owen, who would've loved to stay all day).

We headed in to town to David's grandma's house to clean off with her garden hose. That was my favorite part of the afternoon; the water from the hose was clean (or clear, at least), and cool, and Grandma gave us Popsicles. I say next time we just skip the beach and head straight to Grandma's.

Owen's Four-Letter Word

I'm actually surprised that my boys haven't learned this word sooner. Some background: Westley has a little fire truck that the boys love to play with. It plays some annoying little jingles, and they can sit on it and ride, or they can push it around. But for some reason, they can't seem to share it. Owen was monopolizing the fire truck, and Drew was waiting so patiently (which was pretty good of him to do; he usually screams and cries), so I decided that Owen's turn was over for a while and I pulled him off to give Drew a turn. Owen was pretty upset. I hugged him and told him that he'd had a long enough turn and now it was Drew's turn. Owen hugged me back, put his little hands on my cheeks and said, "Mine. Mine!" It was so funny. He just had this look on his face like, "It's okay, Mom. We don't need to share."

I read in the nursery manual for church that kids this age aren't expected to share; it's not a concept that they understand. And I agree. They don't know what the word "share" even means. Whenever I tell them to share, Drew starts singing the clean-up song. Clean up, clean up, everybody do your share! But his version sounds like this: "Clea-up, clea-up, share!"

[New subject]

I read Parent's Magazine from time to time. Sometimes, I read an article and think, is this person really a parent? Or are my kids just different; 'cause what they're suggesting sounds a little impractical. Over all, though, the magazine has a lot of good articles, and fun ideas for games and things. One article I read mentioned giving praise where deserved, rather than just saying "don't do this, don't do that" all the time. I decided to try it out, and I've been watching for ways to tell Owen and Drew that I appreciate what they're doing. The other day, Drew was sitting on the kitchen floor petting Merle. He was being very gentle, so I told him, "Good job, Drew. Thank you for petting Merle so nicely!" Drew really appreciated the praise. For the next fifteen minutes, he followed Merle around the house (Merle was actually trying to get away from Drew), petting him and saying, "Nice! Nice!" And now, when he sees Merle, he yells, "Nice!" and wants to pet him. Silly, silly.

It's [Still] a Girl!

I had a follow-up ultrasound today. My last ultrasound, at 17 weeks, showed something called a choroid plexus cyst (go here for more info). So the main purpose of today's visit was to see if the cyst is still there. I guess the radiologist who does the ultrasound isn't really supposed to diagnose things; it has to be reviewed, and my doctor has to tell me about it... In any case, I have to wait three more weeks to know what's going on. That's fine; I'm not incredibly worried, because my doctor isn't worried--the cyst is an isolated thing, so it most likely won't cause any other problems.

The tech did go over all the other stuff with me: growth is normal, my baby is still a girl (I was glad to know, because I've always thought it would be weird if the tech was mistaken and the baby came out a different gender than expected), and she has hair! I'm excited about that, because Owen was bald when he was born, and I worry that he inherited my thin-hair gene. Drew's hair showed up in his ultrasounds, and he has a ton, just like his dad. So hopefully this girl will have thick, luscious locks, too.

As much as I enjoyed the ultrasound (they're uncomfortable, but fun to see), the baby didn't enjoy it at all. Every time the tech pushed on my belly with the little wand thingy (I have no idea what it's called), the baby pushed back from the inside. She moved around a lot, and really made the tech earn today's wages. The tech did some leg measurements, at which point Baby's hand was holding her toes. When the tech went to do the arm measurements, she had to look all over for Baby's arm, which by then was up by her face (the baby does have two arms; I forget where the other one was). This is going to be one spunky girl. I'm glad, because she's got two spunky older brothers and she'll probably have to stand up for herself.

Today I feel like I want to name her Ginger. That will probably change, but it's one of the names that's been floating around in the top five on my list. So of course it's one of the names David doesn't like... At least we have some time to continue discussing. I saw a bright yellow post-it on my folder at the doctor's office. It said my delivery is scheduled for September 17 at 8:30 a.m. It's a Monday, which is good. I was born on an odd-number Monday at 8:28 a.m. Would it be silly to ask the doc to start two minutes early? David is glad that the delivery is scheduled for early in the day, so I'll be coherent enough later to watch the season opening of Monday Night Football (or it might be the 2nd or 3rd game; I'm not sure--but it's sort of a family tradition to watch football every Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday).

I feel like this is a spacey and sort of rambling post today, and it reflects what is going on in my spacey and rambling brain. I guess I'd better sign off then...

I Falsely Accuse Fish

I got some new fish. I had gotten some for my birthday, but two of them died, leaving me with just one. I named him D.C. It's short for Destiny's Child, which isn't my favorite band, but my little fish is a Survivor. Drew calls him C.C.C.

We have some friends who are moving to California for med school, and they gave us their plecostomus (a big scary looking algae eater), who is named Dave. Since we already have a Dave, I call him Carl to alleviate any confusion. So I guess his initials are also D.C.
I wasn't sure how little D.C. would react to being in an aquarium with such a big scary fish, so I got him some buddies to back him up. I got a guppy who has a really flashy pink and black tail. I named him Siegfried. I got a little fluorescent red-orange fish, too(I forget what kind he is). I named him Roy, because one can't have a Siegfried without a Roy. I also purchased an African Dwarf frog, who is about an inch long and an inch wide.

I was so proud of my happy aquarium. Then, two days after I got everything set up, I realized I hadn't seen the frog for a while. I had heard a story about Carl allegedly eating a goldfish, so I was almost certain that he'd eaten my frog, but hoped maybe the frog was just hiding really well. I stuck my hand in the tank and moved some stuff around. No frog. I shook my fist at that big ol' Carl. "How dare you eat my frog?! You'd better not eat any of my other fish, or it'll be an earthy grave for you!" (I felt weird threatening a fish with a watery grave, since they live in the water already. Now that I think about it, it's probably weird that I talk to my fish like that in general...)

Today the boys and I went to get a new screen for our front door. Certain cat and toddlers in our house have ripped the bottom corner, making it possible for said cat and toddlers as well as the dog to escape quietly without being noticed. Our neighbor Bob brought Drew and Owen home the other day--said he found them playing across the street (they had nothing on but diapers). I didn't even know they were gone; I was cleaning the kitchen, and thought they were downstairs breaking the computer, which is their usual favorite activity.

So anyway, we got home from Lowes with our screen-fixing supplies, only to find the front door open, the screen flapping suspiciously in the breeze, and our dog missing. I was floored. This was the third time the dog has snuck through the screen, and I was so mad that he'd had the gall to do it again. So I was Miss Grumpy Pants all evening. I could hardly enjoy my Whopper-with-cheese, and when Owen threw his cheeseburger on the floor and asked for a bite of mine, I told him he'd be going to bed hungry.

I thought maybe watching fish would cheer me up, so I sat down in front of the aquarium and flicked on the light. And who should dart back into hiding, but that little African Dwarf frog! He'd been hiding the whole time and had come out while we were gone! Of course I had to apologize to Carl; he seemed to accept the apology. At that moment, Vito came slinking up and sat on the doorstep wanting to be let in. I let him in with a small scolding, but soon enough Miss Grumpy Pants disappeared, and I felt like everything had resolved itself. I gave Owen a little snack and got him and Drew off to bed, then went downstairs to "check my schedule."*

I saw some cute pictures of my new nephew on our family website, and that totally made my day. So on that good note, I'm going to wrap this up, go watch some TV, give myself a pedicure (it'll probably be the last one for a while; I'm getting to the point of not being able to reach my toes), and go to bed.

I hope my brother doesn't mind that I post these pictures. They're just too cute:

,
Baby James, Proud Dad and Big Sisters

*This is my term for "piddle around on the computer." I call it this because David has to check his work schedule on the computer; he goes to the railroad website and looks at the train lineup so he has a general idea of when he'll be working. But he doesn't just check the railroad website. He has to check his email, the news, the sporting news, the stock market news, and a bunch of other stuff, and also play a few games of Free Cell. So now, whenever I check my email and do my blogging and read all my friends' blogs and read the gossip column to see what the celebs are up to, I call it "checking the schedule."

Adventures in Shipping

(A spin-off from the Adventures in Shopping series)

We bought a Nintendo Wii to sell on Ebay. It sold rather quickly, and we made a small profit. So my job yesterday was to get it shipped. No problem, right? Well, that all depends on how the boys decide to behave. And yesterday, they decided not to behave.

It all happened like this: We walk into the UPS store, and I tell the boys to stick close to me and not touch anything. Apparently, what they actually hear is something along the lines of "Run amok and pull everything you can off the shelves." So I'm trying to give the guy all the shipping information, and the boys are chasing each other around the store with cardboard mailing tubes. Not too big a deal, but then as we're about to leave, the UPS guy says, "Your kid pulled a bunch of cards off the shelf." So I apologize and start picking them up. I try to get them in some kind of order, but meanwhile Owen is on the next aisle pulling those cards off the shelf, and Drew is by the Xerox machine pushing buttons. So I grab Drew with one hand and put cards back as fast as I can with the other. When I finish, I grab Owen's hand and make for the exit. But Owen isn't finished and makes a grab toward the last row of cards. He succeeds in pulling them all down, at which point the UPS man actually says to me, "Just leave. I'll clean it up."

I have never been so embarrassed in my life (at least that I can recall; I probably have, but this embarrassment is currently crowding out any previous embarrassments). I can never go back to the UPS store again. Not that I go there all that often, but David's plan is to get a couple more Wiis and try to sell those, too.

The first thing I did when I got home was go online and order little backpack harnesses for the boys. They are really cute and come with a leash so the boys will have to stay fairly close to me, hopefully making it easier for me to do damage control or, better yet, damage prevention. But I may just have to resign as Designated Wii Shipper.