French Party.

Yesterday, my sister came over for a visit, and we watched  "Julie and Julia," which just came out on DVD.  It was great, and I think I'll have to purchase it someday.  Michelle recommended it to me, since she knows I've always had a thing for Julia Child.  I agree with Michelle also, that the movie has MARRIED people, who are actually in love with each other.  There's really not a whole lot of that out there, and it was much appreciated.

I've read My Life In France, which provided all the Julia Child parts of the movie.  It is a great book, and I love her attitude towards life.  She's funny and upbeat, but also very able to stand up for herself.  I adore Julia's descriptions about French life and food.  I loaned this to Laural, along with Mastering the Art of French Cooking.  Yeah, I'm that much of a food nerd. 

If you readers (both of you!) know me at all, you have already guessed that we made a foodie day out of it as well. I made Julia Child's Boef Bourguignon,  while Laural brought the makings for her favorite risotto recipe, from Giada de Laurentiis. We spent time in the kitchen together, laughing and joking and stirring and smelling and tasting.  My family loves to cook almost as much as we love to eat.  I must admit that I didn't follow Julia's recipe exactly, as we were pressed for time and I didn't have all the ingredients.  It was all still fantastic.  We even threw in some brussels sprouts for a little vegetable action.

Failure to Communicate.

The other day, Olivia was chewing on something after dinner.  I asked her what it was, and she started signing to me, trying to finger-spell it out.

"C... Is it chocolate?  No?"  At this point, I was trying to remember what we had lying around to eat that began with "C."

"Slow, down, Liv, I can't remember that many signs!"  Okay, she finally drew the next one in the air.

"R..."

More frantic gesticulations...

"Um...Okay, is it a vowel?  Yes?  A..."  Excited nods of assent.

Finally she swallowed her mouthful.  She burst out, "Mom, I can't remember the sign for "P!"

"Livvie!  You're eating CRAP!?!"

(Actually, crepes.  Spelling lesson and discussion of French language followed.)

I'm Too Lazy to Name This.

Dishwasher:  broken.

Dishes:  filthy and all over.

Clothes:  dirty and clean mingling everywhere in unfolded piles.

Kids:  barely in bed, an hour late.

House:  cold.

Mom:  sick and cranky.

A typical day.

Well, don't.

Oh, if I could have a t-shirt made with this image.

I can't seem to convince the boy that finger doesn't start with "th."  I adore the spelling, and the picture just slays me.  Check out those motion lines. It's just really...worth a thousand words, isn't it?

That little stick-figure guy won't be putting his thinggr anywhere near a plug hoel for some time.

Pie.

I love pie.  When I was growing up, my Grandma made pie for church dinners and hootenannies, each held monthly.  She'd also make pies for major holidays. and the yearly Lord's Acre at church.   That meant LOTS of occasions for pie-making.  I remember Grandma making lemon meringue, pumpkin, cherry, apple, pecan, coconut cream, banana cream, chocolate cream, and strawberry-rhubarb pies. She also made blackberry and peach cobbler.

 My grandma's generation knew how to make pie.  None of those soapy-tasting little store-bought pumpkin pies for them, although we'd cautiously examine the lemon meringue to assure it wasn't a cop-out pudding filling.  Every woman knew how to make pie crust, and most were known for one or two specialties.  There were always so many different kinds to choose from, and we could usually tell who'd made a pie by the crust crimping style.  

Here's where I kick myself, because as a picky and paranoid child, I would only eat pecan, apple, pumpkin, cherry, or lemon meringue pie.  When I was about ten years old, I bit into a pit in a cherry pie, and then I wouldn't eat cherry pie, either.  I would gladly eat any of those kinds of pie today, though I still have my favorites. 

I wold also dearly love to have Grandma's pie recipes, but there aren't any.  Like many other cooks of her era, she didn't use recipes.  Grandma was a wonderful intuitive cook and made everything by memory.  Since there were so many occasions for pie, I did watch her make pie crust many, many times.  She always kept a large, yellow tupperware bowl in the corner of the kitchen, with flour and the sifter in it.   I own this bowl now, and it always makes me think of her, singing in the kitchen, clacking her hard-soled shoes on the floor.

She'd sift a large pile of flour into her speckled melamine bowl, then sprinkle in a dose of salt, measured out into the soft palm of her hand.   A generous dollop of Crisco was cut in with a fork until the mixture was evenly crumbly.  She'd pour in a few spoonfuls of ice water, and mix with the fork until all held together in a ball.  Then Grandma would get out her big, scarred wooden cutting board and sift flour onto it, roll out the dough in a perfect circle of even thickness,  She'd gently transfer it to a pie tin, and trim and crimp the edges. 

I was always so impressed with how fast and surely she did everything, but I loved the edge-crimping the most.  She'd pinch the dough into little scalloped ridges with her thumbs and index fingers, and I was always amazed that it came out right every time.  Re-rolled dough makes a tough pie crust, so Grandma would always put the crescent-shaped scraps onto a cookie sheet and sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar.  We called these "piecrust cookies."

It all looked so effortless and easy.  When I was married and grown (probably in that order), I wanted to make pie.  I used a recipe,and followed the instructions and my memories.  It was a total crap disaster.  The dough was either crumbly or sticky.  I tried rolling the dough into a regular circle without tearing it or having it stick permanently to the table, to no avail.  I've made many pies over the years, but I still don't have the skills to roll a crust out without chilling it first in the refrigerator.  I always make pie crust cookies with the scraps, and I tell the kids how my Grandma used that bowl to make pie crust, and she always made these same cookies for us.

Pie:  it's not just food, it's heritage.


*Hootenanny:  a monthly gathering where live music is performed by community musicians. Pie, desserts, and coffee are served.  Also the punchline to a favorite inside family joke.

Henna Day.

I'd been thinking about letting the henna grow out of my hair.  I haven't dyed it for several months, and it's fairly short, so it was about half and half my natural color (a mousy ashy light brown).  Then Lucy invited me to a henna party at her house, and that changed my mind.

I'm glad I did.  I forgot how much I like the texture it gives my hair, and how shiny it looks.  Plus, the red is just bright and awesome.  Henna adds a natural redhead cast to the existing color of hair, so I've got a medium auburn.  Someone with darker hair ends up with mahogany, and any grays become strawberry-blonde highlights.

It's not a "Nice and Easy" project.  Henna makes hair red, but it is an olive-drab green powder.  We mix it with lemon juice and oil and some tea and spices and let it sit for several hours to develop the dye.  This makes a really gross green/brown paste with tiny strawy chunks from the spices and tea.  Being a country girl and raised on a farm, I can authoritatively inform you that it looks EXACTLY like cow manure.

Henna alone has a very strong smell like alfalfa hay, which also, I've been told, smells much like pot.  To me, it also smells sort of like vegetal, like carrots or pumpkins, but in a more obnoxious way.  We add ginger and cinnamon and cloves, so it mostly smells like gingerbread instead.

So, when the paste is mixed and aged, we get together in our oldest and rattiest stretchy pants and shirts and trowel piles of the glop all over our hair.  The buddy system makes this easier.  Even with help, I always get earsfull of the junk.  EWWWWW.  After application, we wait 1-2 hours.  Also a bit gross, since even though we wrap our heads with grocery bags, the mix weeps poo juice out the edges the whole time.

Break for snacks:  We always make crepes when we have a henna party.  Yum!  We had ham and cheese and chives crepes for lunch, then chocolate and banana for dessert.  We also shared the joys of Nutella with two friends.

We rinse and shampoo for about five minutes over Lucy's kitchen sink, then stagger about dizzily while everyone compliments us. It's the best when the hair dries and it's sunny outside, then everyone has a gorgeous gleaming copper head of hair. 

A picture, since it wasn't sunny outside:

A Letter to Loch.

Dear sweet little boy:

First, we're all very happy to have you here, and we can't imagine life without you.  You are a source of cuteness and joy in all our lives.

But you are incapable of sleep, and that is really starting to grind us down.  Mom, especially, is weary of feeding you several hours straight at night to keep you from screaming.  The problem is, she can't fully sleep when you are eating, because she has to make sure you remain attached and happy.  Your Dad is tired of having you shoved at him at five AM, with Mom saying she needs SOME sleep before morning.  We're exhausted with the two hours of screaming this then entails.

Last night sucked.  It wasn't all your fault, since Olivia began the festivities with vomiting.  Then the crankiness began as soon as our heads hit the pillow.  We all said things we didn't mean to each other.  You scratched Mom's face and pinched her chest.  Your parents may have told you to just shut up and go to sleep.  Not anyone's finest hour.

I'd also like to address the daytime behavior.  You are happy if one of us holds you, or you are nursing.  Please be informed that this is not healthy for the family income, your chances of attending college, your Mom's sanity, or your physical development.  Studies have shown that nine times out of ten, when Mom picks a fight with Dad, you have been crying.  Give her a break, she's got issues.

Remember a few weeks ago, when you had naps during the day, and slept at night?  By the way, this means a nap longer than ten minutes, preferably more than once a day.  Remember happily watching Mom and Dad work for minutes at a time from the safety of your swing?  Remember lying on a blanket, exercising your little round body and playing "Catch Those Toes?"  Let's see more of that, please.

Love,  your parents.

Uh, Feeling Better.

I don't feel that way all the time. I must admit I'm feeling a bit embarrassed, but I blog about what's going on, and that was going on.

Things are looking up today.

These are some pictures I fudged about on Picnik. Enjoy.

Doesn't Effort Count?

I spend so much of my life floundering around, trying to make myself make an effort. Major depression runs in my family, especially for the women. My mother, grandmother, and sister have all been treated for it. Toby and I have spent hours talking and arguing about causes and solutions.

Here I am, thirty-one now. I'm heavier and unhealthier than I'd like to be. I am impatient with Toby and the kids way more often than I need to be. I have a good marriage that I know could be better if I could let go and just be happy and uncomplicated. I am part of a vastly successful business that allows us to work together and make a good living.

Everything is fine....except for me. I don't like anything about myself right now. Just going through the motions of life is taking all I have in me. I want to make everything better, but don't know where to start, and the thought of working even harder makes me want to curl up in a little ball and not move until next Tuesday.

My black, sarcastic sense of humor is probably my trademark. The problem is, some days the humor deserts me and all I have left is black sarcasm.

What's Going On?

I've been quite restless about the fact that even though breastfeeding *supposedly* uses five hundred calories a day, I am pretty much stuck weighing five pounds more than I did before the Loch-pregnancy. Okay, I've actually been restless about a lot of things, but I can't control any of the others much.

I've been faithfully working out on the treadmill for about two and a half weeks and keeping track of my "progress" with a free online fitness journal. I've lost, then regained, then lost again, about two pounds. I'm trying to motivate myself with things like more energy, less depression, etc... It's mostly vanity.

I checked my measurements for the first time since starting, and there is a difference. My bum is about an inch and a half smaller. Bust, an inch smaller. Thighs, also an inch smaller. Waist? No change. Just the flippin' place where I need to lose weight the most. I'm already shaped like the ice cream cone above, if it looked like it had also gestated five kids. Also, it's half Nutella-flavored, just like me.

Where does that leave me? Holding my pants up with a belt, and worried that if I lose more weight, I might not be able to sell corsets anymore, if you know what I mean. I knew I'd been working hard, but was not aware that I've literally been working my a** off.

Today.

The Unintentional Vegan.

Sometimes I forget to put an egg in the muffin recipe I'm making (to get attetion).

Still, yay for banana-nut muffins! Even a minor baking project completed and slightly botched makes me feel like more is right with the world.

Halloween Wistful, Life Wistful.

I'm seeing all these awesome ideas online for Halloween parties, and decorations, and costumes, and food. Sigh. If only I wasn't so burned out from the costuming rush. Toby and I didn't even dress up for the kids' Halloween parties at school.

I did dress up for the church's annual Trunk or Treat event. My corset that fit at this time last year (when I was very early pregnant with Loch), doesn't fit anymore. I weigh the same, but things are obviously distributed differently now. Also sigh. I thought my body was already a fairly fluffy mom-style. It's the first one or two pregnancies that take that huge toll. Apparently, you can destroy your person just a little more every time.

It's not that I'm knocking motherhood at all. It's not the kids' fault I like food, and my fave "activity" is reading, preferably curled up in a chair with a blanket and hot tea. Live like a hobbit, look like a hobbit.

We purchased a treadmill off Craigslist recently, and I'm trying to put it to good use. I always forget how much good exercising does me. Not just physically, but mentally. I have a tendency to depression, and all the endorphins help my black moods immensely. I KNOW that mentally. But some part of me inside is always telling me it's not worth it, and I'd much rather nap.

Lucky to Have a Home.

Last weekend, we visited Toby's parents for a few hours on Sunday. Upon returning, the house smelled a bit funny. I mean, different from the normal urine and spilled milk. Toby went upstairs to put the kids to bed and found.....

This.

And This.

I hate to place blame undeserved, which is why I'm blaming this little girl.

Sure, she looks defenseless and covered with cake and sweet and sleepy and naked. That's her defense mechanism, the cuteness. She apparently turned on one of our photography lights, which was moved close to the mannequin. Also, right underneath this fire hazard was a box full of shredded paper that had been a packing box for some supplies. One tiny drop of hot flaming plastic mannequin....use your imagination. I know I did.

Guess if we lock the door to the sewing room when we're not in there? We do now.

Family Lexicon, Part 3 In a Series.

Herpes: . We noticed a couple of years ago, that the little dots of fabric from grommeting bodices tended to collect in huge numbers, then migrate like caribou. It became a family joke that they were everywhere.

I noticed that on Craftster, some referred to glitter as "the herpes of the craft world." So if glitter is for crafts, grommet dots are for bodice making. A tacky, tasteless nickname was born!

So don't freak out if we talk about herpes being everywhere at our house. We mean the other kind.

Last Stop for Self-Pity.

We're mostly sick around here. I don't know if it's THE flu, but it probably is. All but two of us have been sick for days. It's not debilitating, but I'm sick enough I just want to lie about and feed the baby all day. Too bad it's the Halloween Craziness Countdown, and I have a specific amount of bodices to sew every day so we won't get behind. Awesome.
We're so much faster and better at what we do than last year. I remember being crazy busy and working all the time the month of October last year, but I know that we have probably sewed three or four times as much merchandise. I'm FASTER, this year. Not nearly so fast as Michelle, but still. Toby said he almost can't keep ahead of me cutting.

Check out my trash can full of thread. Okay, there might be a dirty diaper or seven under there, too. Believe me when I say that there is thread EVERYWHERE around here. I find it in diapers, on my food, in my bra. And the little dots of fabric that are punched out when we grommet bodices. Stay tuned, I feel a Family Dictionary entry coming on.

Another Hen Day.

We went to Vea's today, with the goal of making duct-tape mannequins of two of us. I'm trying to be non-specific, since it is kind of embarrassing to have one's form lovingly swathed in shiny gray duct tape. We had a great time and ate some tasty pizza and laughed hysterically about how goofy it all was.

The hens encouraged me to share this story with you on the internets, since they enjoyed it so. Enjoy the suffering, shall we?

We have massive amounts of trouble getting Eldest to keep track of...anything. I know most parents think their kids are forgetful and disorganized, but seriously, folks: I feel hopeless.

She has:

Lost a SHIRT at school. (As in, one she was wearing that day.)

Broken one pair of glasses. (I'm surprised it's only one so far.)

Left her socks and shoes and coat and a book and a pillow and whatever else in the car all the time.

Been the center of a concerted effort on the part of her teacher and myself in making sure she writes in her planner every day, so I know about homework.

Left any number of valuables/horribles in her pockets so they were ruined/ruined other things in the washer. MP3 player, gum, candy, loose change, earphones, key chains, the list continues.

Spent the night at a friend's house, and todayI got the returned bag of forgotten items: shoes, flashlight key chain, and pajamas. Only that?

Don't even get me started about missing homework, lost library books, AWOL jackets, and lost socks/shoes (socks and shoes should be illegal until a kid is 18). Who the crap makes these things in pairs, so that you have to find not one, but TWO items every time kids need to look cared-for?

Have I painted the picture for you?

Last night, we visited my family, and I had the kids bring their homework. Scratch that. I told them to bring their homework, but we had to turn around halfway and come back for it. Homework was duly done, and when it was time to go, the kids gathered up their stuff and we headed for the car.

As we backed out of the driveway, Mom called us back, and Liv ran to the house to get her math homework. Then, when we got home, the same homework was kicked out onto the driveway, and Toby reminded her to get it. Crisis averted? Not even.

Today, when I was leaving for Hen Day, guess what was fluttering around the entry? Math homework. Also? In the Car? Math book. Correct me if I'm crazy, but I think at least two golden opportunities to put both in the backpack were missed.

I pause here to request a prayer, for patience, for me. Because my kids are giving me Tourette's.

Weird Little Girl.

I managed to make bread yesterday, using a no-knead recipe. I baked it in loaf pans, since I don't have time to knead, or shape, or fuss with it at all right now. Plus, we need toast and sandwiches, which work better with square slices, not irregular ovals.

Today, when Toby went into the kitchen to make lunch, Ivy told him she loves bread. Probably she yelled it, if I know her at all. Then she hugged the bread, and kissed it. Then she licked it. Nice. I'm glad she likes bread, I just hope everyone else likes it when she's done with it.

Rain Day.

The kids are out of school today, since their elementary school is flood-locked. Hooray for sleeping in, though I probably came out worse after waking up every couple hours to wonder if school was canceled.

We took the kids guilt-bowling this week. The schools, who are strapped for cash, fall prey to those cheezy fundraiser people. I don't want our kids peddling useless, overpriced crap to friends and neighbors, so we just throw all the sales packets away. Then Wednesday, when Toby drove them to school (yes, again!), he saw a huge carnival and bouncy castle set up there. It was a party for the kids who sold useless crap to friends and family. Grrrrrr.

Who paid for this? The fundraiser company? The school? People who bought junk? The whole system sucks. I still want to opt out, and just send a check to the school in lieu of participation in this crap, but way to penalize the kids who don't sell your junk for you. So, bowling, and Happy Meals. They even appreciated it enough to thank us.

Um anyway, the kids, and bowling.
I do love bowling shoes. These are meant to glow when exposed to black light. Not too thrilled about the velcro, though it was handy for the kids.
A typical smile for this little princess. Note the carefully coordinated red ensemble. She did that herself. And the punky near teenager in the background. I'm learning that she will dress like a girl, if I'm more selective of less floofy clothes.
Toby nearly smeared himself over the lanes in an attempt to knock down the pins with his mind... Perfect photographer timing, that.
Proof that I do exist. Moving on...

Loch had a good time for a while, just watching from a safe distance in his car seat. Later, we had to take turns holding him while he flapped excitedly at all the lights, sounds, and noises. Then he fell asleep while Toby held him.
Here is Ivy, complaining about how the ball she just backhanded off the ramp in front of her didn't knock over more than one pin. She alternated that with jumping up and down and cheering. Many hugs were exchanged after a successful turn.
This boy said it was the best night of his whole life. Sucking up will get you nowhere.

Family Lexicon, Part 2 In a Series

"Raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock."

Origin: Jill's Grandma Margaret

Meaning: It's gross, but very descriptive. A very hard rain with lots of splashing.

Examples: Accurately describes the weather all day, and how it's forecast to continue until the wee hours of morning. I'm pulling for a day off school, since some major roads are already flooded. According to Dad's rain gauge, we've had nearly five inches today.

Family Lexicon, Part 1 In a Series

"Sometimes I_____________to get attention."

Origin:
Michelle

Meaning:
This phrase can be used in almost any manner. I think originally it was "Sometimes I tell lies to get attention." It is used sarcastically, to poke fun at the speaker. We often just fill in the blank to suit whatever situation.

Examples:
Sometimes I blog to get attention. (My blogger tagline...)
Sometimes I crap in the floor to get attention. (That's for Ivy, I DON'T.)
Sometimes I sew boning to get attention. (This breaks the needle in the sewing machine, and it is loud and horrifying, and sometimes we have to get the machine fixed.)
Sometimes I post random embarrassing things on Facebook......



You get the idea. This phrase has become a running family joke.
Welcome to our world.

My Favorite Monty Python Sketch.

I don't know what exactly tickles me so. Maybe it's the crazed expressions. Maybe it's the bizarre misinformation regarding llamas. The smarmy fake mustaches. The big fake llama cutout picture. The pom-pom fringed hat. Or the motorscooter-and-man-in-drag-with-paper-bag finale.

Whatever the appeal, to me, it is perfect. Enjoy!

The things kids say.

We were walking out to the van from my parents' house last night, and Liv said:

"I like Fall nights, because they're so nice and cool. And, my underwear are too tight."

Ah, fall...when your drawers are suddenly inadequately sized due to the change in temperature.

50 Percent Awesome, 50 Percent Hilarious.

I don't know if both of you blog readers remember when I posted about literal videos? Here's the link back to that (it's at the bottom of the rambling). A few days after I wrote about the "Total Eclipse of the Heart" literal video, it was taken off YouTube for copyright infringement. That really sucked, since I think parodies only make the originals more popular, so are a good thing for the recording company in question. I was delighted to see that they put it back a few days later, but with a shadow link at the bottom of the screen, so viewers can buy the MP3 of the song at Amazon or Itunes.

So, to reward the company in the only way I know, I bought the song, and put it on our MP3 player. We listened to it a few times on the way to Utah and back, and it's come up more in our driving around here at home. I always liked this song, but it is growing on me quickly. The music video plays itself in my head and I sit there with a huge goofy grin the whole time. Toby and I discussed how this song was probably the makeout song in it's day at the high school dances. We also decided it is equal parts awesome and hilarious. It straddles the line so perfectly between being a classic 80's ballad and reminding me of of the funniest thing I've seen in weeks.

Where am I going with all this?

1) It's really easy to buy MP3 music online. I can do it while feeding the baby and using the mouse left-handed. It is nearly instantaneous, so care is in order....

2) Sometimes I like things because they make me laugh.

3) Happy late birthday post to Toby. You are 100 percent awesome and 100 percent hilarious. Thanks for making me laugh for the last fifteen years or so, and thanks for the unmentionable stuff, which is also awesome.

A Blessing and a Curse.

We blessed Lochlan this morning at church. We had to actually be there ON TIME, and we made it, and it wasn't majorly stressful. Ivy clung to Toby's leg while he blessed the baby, because when he blessed Ivy, Maggie screeched and Ivy cried and no one heard the blessing at all. So we took the path of least resistance this time.

The Dooleys blessed their adorable little baby girl, too. She looked so nice in a frilly white long dress and bonnet. I realized when Toby held Loch up for congregational approval that I forgot to put his little Aunt-Sherrel-knitted booties on. Instead, he was barefooted. By the way, I always love the pleased sigh that everyone gives the new babies. I wonder how many people were wondering if his feet were cold? I could assure them that as a legitimate McDonald baby, he was toasty warm.

I always invite my family to come for baby blessings, and I was glad they came. I would have liked to bear my testimony, but was too busy juggling Lochlan's feeding needs and Maggie's urination needs. Liv did, though. She is blessed with self-confidence that I envy. Livvie even bore her testimony in Utah at Tyler and Michelle's Fast Sunday service. Way to be!

I could have used some of that confidence in Primary, where it was my turn to give the lesson for junior and senior primaries. Lots of workers were absent due to a new baby that unites two large clans. The lesson itself went well, but then I had to conduct some songs, since there was NO ONE ELSE. I know lots of the primary songs now, but they all fled my memory, leaving me gripping the podium and sweating while blushing fiercely and trying to read the songbook.

My mother and grandmother and sister all have beautiful singing voices. I was in band every year in high school and played trap-set drums, so I'm not completely rhythmically uncoordinated. I can sing, but not well, and not in public, and apparently NOT while trying to count time. I remember squawking out the wrong lines to the song while flapping my hand in the air demonically. I could only be more embarrassed if I had peed myself, or profaned.

Babies.

I love it when we go somewhere with just Lochlan, and some nice stranger thinks he's our first baby. That means we still look young, right? Then they start talking about how before we know it, he'll be walking and talking and we'll wonder where the time went. I always smile and nod, like I've never heard all this before.

Then the person always has to ruin it by asking if he's our first. So when we tell him or her that Loch is our fifth, they always look stunned. Yeah, people do have that many kids. Yeah, it's still a miracle every time a baby grows up into a toddler, then a pre-schooler, then goes off to school. But we've been there, done that a few times now.

Maybe they expect all big family parents to look...what? More frazzled? Older? Fatter (that would be a trick for me!)? Wear a denim jumper and look like Michelle Duggar? Hey, I'm not knocking her, by the way. That family is amazing, so kudos to them.

I am trying hard to enjoy every minute, even the ones where I'm cleaning up Ivy's latest poo-tacular mess. Picture it: Hollis' new Hot Wheels track, a lot of poo, and some very "muddy" cars. It was off-roading of the worst kind. And when the Hens were here, we found a nice dump, taken into an open book, then the book was closed and left in an out-of-the-way corner. By the way, the book was a Thomas the Train one called "Percy's Chocolate Crunch." I'm not making this up, it's too disgusting.

Anyway. Everyone with kids old enough to leave home tells us that when the kids were little was the best time of their lives, they just didn't know it at the time. But the sheer work gets in the way. The kids are adorable and funny and shocking and appalling all at the same time. There is a MOUNTAIN of laundry that must be found, washed, dried, folded and put away at all times. The kids are always hungry. The house is always worse than messy. There are always flies buzzing a sinkful of dirty dishes. I'm always working on about two hours' less sleep than I need. Lochlan is sweet and precious...and he needs to be fed and held for hours every day. I have a relationship to maintain. On top of all this? I have a full-time job, sewing corsets madly and trying to keep up with the fall Renaissance Festival and Halloween rush.

Maybe I do look frazzled.

Netflix for Fun

Sometimes it's worth having a Netflix subscription to see how hard they try to pinpoint your movie preferences. Our suggestions today include:

Suspenseful Adult Comedies

Romantic PBS TV Shows

Witty Movies to Watch Instantly

British Dramas Based on Classic Literature

Feel-Good Animal Movies




For some reason, "Romantic PBS TV Shows" cracks me up. Do I sound like a Jane Austen fan? It's either that or "Nightly Business Report" is suddenly sexy.

There and Back Again.

I've always thought of myself as a Hobbit. You know, happy to be at home, accustomed to well-prepared comfort foods and curling up with a good book by the fire. That part of me is happy to be home. The other side of my nature must be more adventurous, because I do love a road trip, enough to still have a good time on a 24 hour drive with five kids in tow.

It seems like a whirlwind trip in my mind, and it was. Some of my memory highlights:

Both Heber and Springville are gently cradled in a bowl of mountains. I forgot that you have to look UP to see the fractal horizon in most cases. I always wonder what it would be like, to spend all one's days surrounded. The landscape is so dramatic, and I can't imagine being so accustomed to it that I wouldn't notice any more. One night, I was a bit startled to see something huge looming out of the darkness before I remembered where we were...it was a mountain.

Brynn and Maggie, who are four, are cousin frenemies of the best kind. By the way, a frenemy is what it sounds like, a friend who is also sometimes an enemy. Those little girls were so happy to see each other and they held hands for most of the time we were visiting Utah. Sure, each of them had times when she needed some space, but on the way home, Maggie kept asking if there was any way she could stay longer. According to Mag: "I just haven't seen Brynn enough."

We definitely had a working vacation. Michelle wakes up a five every morning, excited to sew another massive pile of bodice for her loving fans. She kindly knocked on our door each morning, and I generally was up within thirty or forty-five minutes, after feeding Loch. We worked almost a full day Monday through Saturday while we were gone. It was lots of fun spending time working with Michelle and Tyler and Megan in their basement sewing room.

Visiting with family is always awesome. We got to spend some (not enough) time with both branches of the family. I am always so jealous of how many cousins my kids have to play with. I was the only baby in the middle of a seven year gap in my family, so I had a cousin four years older, and then two that were Laural's age (three years younger). I hope to see all of you again next summer and actually take a week off to just hang out with everyone. You'll all get sick of us! Thanks to the members of the McDonald clan for waiting to see us before leaving for a hunting trip. Special hello to Renee and Kim, who we missed. (Kim, they said you read this? Blush.)

I seriously cannot express how grateful I am to Michelle and Tyler. They have allowed us (Toby and Jill) to work together every day and start getting out of debt. They let us crash in their playroom, sew on their machines, use their accounts, and most especially, use the good name of their company...Really, guys. I'll help you push your van out of a downhill parking space any day (if I'm not pregnant at the time).

HERE.

One mad-dash day of packing and last-minute orders.

One week's worth of homework collected.

One load of blouses for Michelle from Vea and Sherrell.

One bolt-flattened tire before we even got to Joplin.

One nerve-wracking tire-change on the side of a busy highway.

One nice policeman who parked behind us so cars would move over.

One stop at Sam's Club for snacks.

One bleary-eyed night driving 30 MPH in thick fog.

One nameless restaurant chain breakfast.

One little girl threw up.

One stop to run around at a rest stop.

Another little girl threw up.

Almost ran out of gas in Wyoming.

One little girl had an unspeakable sloppy diaper mess.

And...finally...UTAH. Can I say we're glad to be here?

(It would have been longer, but just insert "Lochlan cried and I fed him and changed him," between each line of the above.)

Beginning the Countdown.

So, plans are still in place for traveling to Utah Friday afternoon. I have my lists in place: one is titled "DO" and the other is "TAKE." It does help a little, but we'll see how much frantic running around there is on Friday.

All of the fam out there who wonder if Damsel In This Dress can possibly support more than one family: OH, MY, GOSH. We are so unbelievably busy. I know we're not nearly as productive as Michelle, but we just about have all the work we can handle. We're working hard to get out of debt and start saving for a piece of property where we can build a nice house that will accommodate both our growing business and our growing family.

We're trying hard to teach our kids money smarts (whilst learning them ourselves!) They work for a small amount of money per chore, and we try to be organized about paying them and making sure they take out for tithing and savings. Tonight, we're planning to have a budgeting Family Home Evening. Kind of kill two birds with one stone, you know. We can show them where our money goes out every month, and at the same time, remind ourselves (the grownups) how much better our spending stays under control when we have a plan. We really haven't done up a new budget since Toby was working construction, so it's time. Our income and some of our expenditures are different.

I think it all boils down to teaching by example. I hope we can be good examples of both frugality and generosity, so that the kids can see these things in action. Speaking of thrift, we're looking for dresses for the little girls, who have both decided that princesses don't wear pants. This is no surprise for Maggie, who is a very girly girl. I didn't expect Ivy to be quite so into dresses. She is a rough little punk with an elf haircut, so it tickles everyone to see her in a frilly little dress. Maggie skips around and sings Ariel songs from "The Little Mermaid," while Ivy demands in a gruff voice: "SAY ME PRINCESS!" They're like the force and dark side of girldom.

We are looking a thrift stores because I just can't bring myself to spend thirty dollars for a dress that I'm not even crazy about, that will be worn and dribbled on every day. There are some very specific guidlines in place, mostly about how a skirt must flare out properly when a little girl spins around. We haven't had much luck, or really much time to look out here lately. Hello Utah, Land Of Deseret Industries! I'm guessing little girls' dresses are pretty plentiful. Hopefully they're also cheap and cute.

Now for a Loch picture. Liv loves to take pictures of him, and this is hers.

Bless the Bus Driver....

...for waiting an extra minute this morning for Hollis to PUT ON HIS SHOES and run out to get on the bus. I thought shoes were part of being dressed.

A Quite Random Pile of the Things We're Up To.

Well, the kids are back in school. We've had to drive them three times already for missing the bus because we (the responsible parents) slept in past bus time. If we're late enough, we have to accompany them into the building in shame and sign them in. We have to fill out a paper for each kid with slots for name, time, and reason for being late. By the end of the quarter, we have a neat blackmail paper filled out with each time we've been crappy parents in the past.

My favorite part is the "reason for lateness" column. I usually just put "late," because it's none of their business. I would like to write:

New Baby
Bad Choices
Hangover
Sex
Laziness
Meth Lab Blew Up
Voices
Mormons Don't Adhere to Your Schedule
We've Decided to Homeschool for the First Twenty Minutes Only
Issues With Authority

Oh, the fun we'd have, until they sicced Child Protective Services on us. By the way, in case you were wondering: yes, yes, no, yes, yes, no, no, yes, no, and yes.

Where was I? Olivia has become obsessed with audio books, and she doesn't want to lie on her bed and stare at the ceiling. Instead, she ambles about the house cleaning it. I said CLEANING IT. Like, spontaneously. Um, without being asked. WHAT THE CRISPY CRAP? I think it's awesome and a little freaky at the same time. But on the other hand, my bathroom is spotless, and I have proof of mirror-polishing. (See above.)

We've committed to a Utah trip, leaving in two weeks. Mostly, we want to see family and show off our sweet little boy.


I just like the way he looks with a bunch of bananas....

BREAD! I managed to bake for the second time since Lochlan was born. I'd like to get back to regular baking because store bread is what it is.

I just heard of literal music videos. Basically, someone rewrites the lyrics of a song to describe what's happening in the music video, scene by scene, then overdubs it and posts it on You Tube. Most really suck. I think "Total Eclipse of the Heart" (by Bonnnie Tyler) and "Anything for Love" (by Mr. Loaf) are painfully funny: "Emo Kid is throwing Slo-Mo dove in my face, I guess that means that he just flipped me the bird." Humor me and watch the first one at least. Oh, and also watch David Hasselhoff singing "Hooked On A Feeling."

....Because I'm too lazy to write for my own blog.

Read this. But go and pee first.

Happy Birthday, Julia!

I just realized it's Julia Child's birthday. She started it all, way before cooking on TV was a multimillion dollar business. I have her original book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," and her autobiographical one, "My Life In France." Both are great reads (and one has great recipes!)

Yeah, there's a movie coming out...whatever. We got the old TV series on Netflix, and they are fun to watch, even if the first few are in black and white. Julia had such a joyful attitude about making good food, combined with a wry humor and practicality.

She lived be more than 90 years old and attributed her longevity to "red meat and gin."

My Afters Look Like Befores.

We've (Okay, I've) been feeling very overwhelmed by orders and the constant demands of our new son lately. Our whole business is run out of our home, and the bulk of the magic happens in the upstairs bedroom, which is about 13 by 15 feet. Evey day is a struggle to keep minimally organized and productive in the windows of time left to me while keeping Loch content and well-fed.

We discussed building a shed in the corner of our backyard, big enough to hold Toby's tools and our business. We even added up what it would cost and how long it might take to complete. We drew up a floor plan, fitting in areas for cutting, sewing, grommeting, computer, boxes, and kids' play. At one point, I looked at it and thought it was very similar in layout to the room we use now, just bigger. So I asked why we couldn't just revamp our current room to fit a better plan. Or any plan at all, really.

Long story short, we spent less than a tenth the shed amount, in both time and money terms. We bought tons of shelf-track, brackets, and shelving at Lowes, gutted the room, and installed all of it. I know it doesn't look organized or cute, but it is impressive considering what it was like before.
THE WALL OF FABRIC. It doesn't look like much, now that we're not stepping over piles of it to get around in here. Maybe it does look like much to you, but I promise Michelle's stash puts ours to shame. She doesn't think in terms of yards, but rolls of fabric.

We are seriously short of lining fabric. There should be a yard of lining for each yard of outer fabric. But lining fabric isn't nearly as fun to buy... We do plan to take the shop-vac out eventually. And the placement of the mannequin and the lights is someone's idea of a joke.MY SEWING AREA. I have ordered a swivel chair with no back to fit between these tables, so that I can just spin around and use the serger when I need to. Notice the dust cover? It is not there because I'm a neat freak, but because when I don't cover it up, someone-who-is-two messes with the tensions. I am a bit proud of the rainbow of topstitching thread on the shelf above, the only aesthetically pleasing part of this whole post.
COMPUTER CORNER. This is where we will keep track of orders, do customer service, and weigh packages to print shipping labels (we've been doing it downstairs, and getting too much exercise running up and down.) I have two monitors because I married a techie. Okay, and also because it is easier to copy orders onto our master order sheet without clicking back and forth six times for each order.BREASTFEEDING CHAIR/GROMMET AREA. It is a huge and monstrous orange chair, but trying to feed a baby balanced across your knees in an armless chair is NOT COOL. We've not had table room until now to have the grommet press (blue thing on table) set up full time.CUTTING TABLE. Where the magic begins. Unless you count the internet, which is the source of all magic. We have drawers underneath for all the larger pattern pieces and the WALL OF FABRIC is just to the right.

The real winners here are the customers, who might get bodices before they expect them. And Lowe's, because they got a good bit of money from us this week.

Losers? Four of our kids still sleep in a 6 by 8 room on one set of bunk beds. But they do have sloped-ceiling gable room upstairs full of toys, so don't feel too sorry for them.

Cool Links for Mom Clothes.

Not Mom Jeans. I do like both these sites, and have used the Sense and Sensibility girls' pattern to make a dress for Liv. I appreciate the Baker Lane designs especially because of the reasons detailed in my previous post. They're both a little too sugar-cookie sweet for me.

Sense and Sensibility Patterns
Baker Lane Dressmaking & Design

I now need to think of a way to make it more my style: Victori-Gothic-Retro-Geeky-Bohemian-Fairy Tale-Punky-Naughty Secretary.
I think I have multiple personalities.

Critical Point.

So here we are. Loch is six weeks old, plus a day, if you're being picky. Things around here are back to as normal as they ever get. And I'm feeling obsessed with finding clothes that fit me. Let me lay out for you the joys of having five kids in ten years. The time can be divided into three or four major phases:

Pregnancy: Regular clothes fit for the first few months (less if it's not the first baby). Maternity clothes are hard to find, expensive, and universally unflattering. Plus, they never seem to take into account that pregnant women might gain weight in their boobs and arms, not just get a mondo-belly. I've pretty well gotten through this phase by amassing a collection of very long, stretchy t-shirts. Pants are another problem, since I hate the claustrophobia-inducing ones with a big kangaroo-pocket in the front that comes up over the belly. I'm so short-waisted they tuck under my bra. Underbelly ones look better and feel better, but slide right off my bumless body, so I'm constantly hitching them up.

Postpartum: Hey, it's Nature's cruel joke that women still look all wodgy and pregnant for a few weeks after the baby comes. The best bet is to hold the baby in front of the Santa-belly. Maybe it's like a built-in nursing pillow. Who wants to wear maternity clothes for another two or three months? NO ONE! My regular pants are still just too tight through the abdomen for comfort or appeal. Clingy shirts are not cool, since they hug the unfortunate areas and are too tight to pull up easily to feed the ravenous baby without baring my wobbly midsection. This is a very sensitive time, hormonally. Not the best time to sit around all day in shirts that are big enough to fit the whole rest of the family into. It's hard wearing things that I feel frumpy in, but I'm too cheap to spring for a wardrobe I hope will be too big in another month.

Nursing: Postpartum is included in the nursing phase, but babies need to be breastfed for at least a year. Most of the rest of the body is back to normal by then. Hopefully. Nursing is easy, if you don't wear a bra and wear a men's t-shirt big enough for a trucker. The baby could be tucked up under and just look like one more lump on a misshapen body. Okay, that's not what I'm going for. There are cute nursing clothes out there. I just have a hard time paying 25 dollars for an ugly shirt or 75 for a cute one. I need something that looks like a cute and flattering regular shirt, that discreetly offers access to a hungry baby. I'm probably going to have to make my own. In all my sewing free time, that is.

Not Pregnant, Not Breastfeeding: I'm not sure this phase has lasted for longer than about two weeks for me. It sounds nice.

Now, just add my preference for clothes that are practical, affordable, a bit sexy (I'm not a slutty teenager, but I'm not Mother of the Bride, either), and a little bit funky. Um. I get it. I'm asking too much. I'll give up and go buy an XXL Hanes T-shirt. And wallow in my misery.

Dimples

I Wish I Wrote This, But I Didn't, So Visit Here to Read It.

This lady is cool. She makes stuff out of vintage polyester (a much underloved resource). And she wrote this post about how she'd like to be Caroline Ingalls. Awesome.

Welcome to Lake McDonald

Here's another cute picture of Loch. We realized that since a loch is a Scottish lake, maybe that's why we wake up soaking wet almost every morning. We're sleeping with a little lake!

Most of these pictures are from our mini-vacation to Grand Rivers, Kentucky to have a reunion/25th anniversary celebration with Jill's family. It's the first time I've seen most of my cousins in about 11 years. Mom and Dad would win the prize for most grandkids!
Ivy made it into the lake and we didn't have any dry clothes for her. We've only been responsible to take a diaper bag EVERYWHERE for the last nine and a half years, but we still forget on a regular basis. We did have an extra blanket for Lochlan, so Toby tied Ivy a nifty sarong. I think she looks like a film star!
We found tons of cool shells on the beach.
The water was always a perfect temperature after we walked around the marina full of tall sailboats.

The rest of the family stayed in sweet and expensive cottages right on the lake, but we stayed in a cute little rock house about three blocks away. It was MUCH cheaper, and we had plenty of room. This is a picture of Maggie and her balloon on the deck of one of the cottages.
About two hours ago, Livvie asked if she could take a picture of Ivy, and this is where she was sleeping. Later, she awakened and rolled grumpily down the last two stairs.

We're spending most of our time catching up on orders and trying to do some last-minute quality time activities with the kids before school begins. I bought this girl some new grown-up underpinnings for the school year. What the CRAP!?!

MMMM, Baby.

That's how the boy likes to spend half his time. The other half he likes to spend attached to me, sucking for all he's worth. Sorry, no pics.

I used to talk about how Ivy would get used to the new baby quickly because she wouldn't remember a time when we didn't have him. I find now that I'm the same. I look back on things that I did just a month ago and wonder, "Where was Lochlan?" Oh, right. He was still inside me 24-7.

I am really enjoying him. He smells fantastic. He gazes at me while eating and works his little eyebrows up and down, which just kills me with cuteness. It has made a huge difference that Toby is home all the time these days. I know that if I get overwhelmed, I can have a break. I also think that by the fifth baby, I mostly know what I'm doing. So, instead of stressing out about how I'm going to care for this helpless tiny person, I can just sit back and relax and just be.

Best. News. Ever.

Finally, something besides the fact that MJ is still dead.

OSCAR MEYER WEINERMOBILE CRASHES INTO HOME

Somehow it's much funnier in Wisconsin.

How To Deliver On Your Due Date

On Saturday, the 27th of June, Toby needed to go help his brother work on his apartment that they are moving into soon. I wanted to be in the vicinity, since I was due to pop a baby out at any time, so I decided to go and bum around town with the kids for as long as I could that day, so we would be near each other if I went into labor.

First, we all got haircuts from Aunt Laural. Hollis got his first big boy haircut, that he can spike up if he wants. I do sort of miss the Christopher Robin look. Ivy kept sneaking tastes of the cape during her trim. MMMMM.....hairy. We hit a couple junk stores and found a new shirt for each of the kids, then met they guys for lunch at Taco Bell. Toby wanted us to find him a clean t-shirt, since he had fiberglass insulation all over him.

I decided to go to the mall. It is air-conditioned and we could walk a lot of wiggles out. Not that I had much wiggle left at that point, but Ivy sure did. We found Toby a shirt at Old Navy (yay for LONG shirts!). Nothing much to make a baby budge, yet? Well, then I thought the kids would like to ride the escalator, because, hey, it's like a cheap carnival ride for kids, right?

We walked the length of the mall to the one store that actually has two floors. Liv and Hollis bounded right on and left me with Ivy, Maggie, my bowling-bag purse (no shoulder strap), and my ginormous belly. Wait a minute. Maybe the escalator wasn't such a good idea. Oh, well. I picked up Ivy and had Maggie hold onto my wrist, above the purse handle. We hopped on without much incident and started the climb. About halfway up, I realized that I always hold on to the rail, so I don't get dizzy. Um, no hands for that. I leaned WAY forward, so that if I fell, it wouldn't be backwards, thus pulling four people to their deaths. We finally made it to the top.

It's always easier coming down, isn't it? Once again, before I could stop them, Livvie and Hollis were off down the escalator. I picked up Ivy and pulled Maggie on to the moving steps with me. She panicked and lost one of her Little Mermaid flip-flops, then jumped back off. I was by this point about five steps down from her, holding Ivy and my purse. I turned around and RAN up the SAME five steps for about a minute, while Princess Margaret got hysterical about losing her shoe and being left behind.

I finally made it back up to Mag, and called down for the kids at the bottom to get her shoe when it came down to them, and ride the up escalator again. Then we all rode down in the elevator. My dad says if I'm lucky, I won't see the security camera footage on the news with some serious "What was she thinking?" discussion.

That's not all. We made our way back through the whole length of the mall towards where our van was parked. I stopped outside of Sears at a little lounge area to rest, and the kids played hide and seek around me. When I gathered my strength sufficiently, we walked through Sears to the van. As I buckled Maggie into her seat, she suddenly started to cry because she only had one of her Little Mermaid flip-flops. Have you had a conversation like this with your kids?

"Where is it?"

"I don't know"

"Does anyone know where Maggie's shoe is?"

Of course no one does.

"Maggie, where did you lose your shoe? Why didn't you tell me when your shoe came off?"

"I don't know"

At this point we both panicked. Maggie bought those flip-flops at the Disney store on clearance with her own money, the day before in Branson. She was severely traumatized at the thought of not being able to wear them continuously for the next month or so. I was so irritated at her. I looked all over the van, under it, and scanned the parking lot hopefully, thinking maybe she only lost it on the way out to the car. Of course not. I couldn't believe she had walked over the hot pavement with only one shoe and not mentioned it.

So I unpacked everyone from the van. We went back into Sears and asked at every customer service desk we had passed on the way out of the store. No one had seen a shoe like we were looking for. At this point I gave up, because I was NOT going to retrace our whole journey in the mall to find out that it was still lost or someone had stolen ONE shoe. Stupid dishonest people, what are you going to do with one Little Mermaid flip-flop?

Back to the car again. I was fuming more or less silently about how none of the kids can keep track of the most basic wardrobe items for more than five minutes. It was probably less silently. We all climbed into the van, and Maggie looked into the front seat and said, "Oh, there it is." Yeah, pretty much it was in the van the whole time, I just hadn't looked hard enough.

Meet Lochlan

Lochlan Kenneth McDonald
born 7:13 p.m. June 28 2009
8 lb 4 oz


We're all very glad he's here! The kids are lined up asking to hold him.

Made.

Blanket for a little boy. Can you tell Hollis helped pick the flannel side?

Waiting...

We made the long trip to Harrison, AR yesterday to get checked out by my midwife, Candy. Everything is going just fine: he's still headed south, I show no signs of any complications like eclampsia. Good to know. Unfortunately, I don't seem to be showing signs of imminent delivery, either. Sigh.

While we were there, Candy's assistant took my blood pressure while Livvy was discussing whether we should have twins, triplets, or quadruplets next time, so we can fill up our van. The bottom number was 95, so we took it again with no stressful chatter...and it was 77. That's how much my blood pressure can jump around according to if I'm nervous or stressed out!

So, now we're down to eight days left until my due date. My blog ticker at the right is actually one day early. I STILL need to make a new car seat cover for the boy, and a new summer nightgown for me. I'm wearing my long flannel one, and just burning up. Oh, and we still don't have a name picked out.

I have managed to accomplish some nesting-sewing. Each of the little girls got a new skirt two weeks ago. Hollis has a new set of train high-water pants/shorts. I made a new flannel and quilt cotton blanket for the baby. I need to make something for Liv. She needs a nice summer dress for church.

The box is waiting in the closet, full of sweet-smelling freshly washed baby clothes. We've bought some diapers and supplies for after, and I have a suitcase and box of birth supplies in the van, ready to go. I need to remember to take the camera and an extra battery, too.

Refried Dang Quesadillas

We eat a lot of dang quesadillas around here. I try to keep lots of the cheap but tasty shredded mozzarella on hand from Sam's club, where we also get tortillas. If we're feeling adventurous, we put lots of goodies on them, like leftover chopped meat or vegetables. We eat them for breakfast a lot, too, and those are usually plain because nobody has the capacity to fancy it up in the mornings.
Yesterday, Toby made some quesadillas for breakfast, and they were just plain cheese. But when I ate one, it was really good. Better than usual, I mean. The cheese was chewier and tastier somehow. Toby had a breakfast brainstorm and tried a new way to cook the quesadillas, and it is seriously lovely, and not a hassle at all. This technique probably works better with a non-stick or seasoned cast-iron surface.Put a bit of butter in your pan (or electric frypan). Let it melt into a pool of bubbly goodness and slap a tortilla down on it. I swirl the tortilla around a bit so it's evenly coated. Then sprinkle on a healthy dose of the cheese of your choice. Let it get nice and melted into a cohesive mass, while the tortilla turns golden brown and delicious. Now, here's the secret: flip it. Flip so that the cheese has a chance to brown and develop a nice bit of chew.

We didn't have problems with sticking. Just work your spatula around the edges, gradually making your way to the center.
Then turn it back over and fold it in half. Serves less than you think it will. I took pictures this morning, and after writing this post, returned to the kitchen to see that I'd missed my chance and all the quesadillas were gone. I had to make one for myself.

This girl was sitting in the kitchen at the time, munching unobtrusively on a quesadilla while working on a sudoku puzzle. She has a little book of them that someone gave her, so we sat down last night and figured out how to work them. I like that there's problem-solving involved, and no buttons or glowing screens in sight. I found out later that she was eating the quesadilla Toby left out for me!