yeah, they will

We went to the Spray Park Playground today, and by spray park, I mean water shooting and spraying and dripping from a number of interesting geysers and spigots. It is VERY EXCITING. Which is what I needed to stay awake today, after staying up until stupid o'clock reading Anne of Avonlea in its entirety. Because it's delicious. That's why.

We were glad to meet up with some friends (read: I was glad to have an adult to talk to) that also happened to be there. Sarah and I were watching Jack climb a tree, his first tree-climb!, and she remarked to me what a handsome devil that lad is. Naturally I agreed with her, because have you seen that kid? He's adorable. Allow me to pause to put my mama ego back in check... there it goes. Better now.

So at bedtime, I told Jack, E's mama said that you were a very handsome boy and that all the girls will love you.

He grinned his pointy-chinned silly grin and said, Yeah they will. They will love my pull-ups.

So that's what's hip in the Nearly Three Crowd these days. Good to know.

forecast

The Internets tell me that today it will be 90 degrees, with 45% humidity. Also that it will be hot.

Tomorrow, The Internets tell me that it will be 86 degrees, with 55% humidity. And that it will be warm.

I have always wondered at what point the weather changed from warm to hot. And sometimes I've wondered when will it ever cool down. And now I know.

Thank you for clearing this up for me, oh great and powerful weather channel dot com.

what the...?

HB often wakes up from his nap with a messy diaper, or messes it promptly upon wakening. I was not surprised when I walked into his room this afternoon and smelled the smell.

I was, however, astonished that he had pooped entire logs ON HIS BEDSHEET, while he was wearing a diaper and a cover and overalls. All were still on him when I walked through his bedroom door. But the poop was in the bed.

So I ask, how is this at all possible?

she is not the winner

And that is most excellent.

mind-numbing day

Laundry.

Bread.

Break up fight between O & J.

Laundry.

Wonder why HB is screaming. Oh, kicked in the face? Right. Of course.

Discipline J, but not by kicking him in the face. That is bad.

Vile diaper. Must be that is how HB deals with getting kicked in the face. (Note to self: remind everyone NOT to kick HB in the face.)

Notice sketchy diaper rash. Not rashy-looking, exactly, more just pretty pink skin. Like a Fuji apple.

Laundry.

Deal with bread.

Feed the team.

Take the team outside, even though they really should take a nap.

Do lot of math to figure out how much 227 pounds of asparagus costs. $397.50, if you were wondering. And no, it is not all for me. That would make our house smell like stinky asparagus pee, and that would be gross.

Grocery list.

Put team in car.

Oops, but first, move ALL OF THE CAR SEATS to the middle row of vehicle, in order to accommodate 227 pounds of asparagus, which will be in eight 25 pound boxes and one 27 pound box.

Actually put team in car.

Go to the Tractor Supply store to buy Red Clover seed to make my tomatoes happy. Get what might be a good deal: a 50 pound bag originally costing $99, for $30. Lower germination rate, because the seed was from December, but I'm not growing a crop, here, just a ground cover.

Get a phone call from a friend, who asks a very oddly-worded question. Say I don't understand what you are asking. Friend re-words question by putting the same exact words in a different order. Say I don't understand what you are asking. Friend re-words question by putting exact same words in a new, different order. Say I don't understand what you are asking. Finally, after exhausting all of the permutations of the words in the question, thereby giving me enough time to kindasorta figure things out, I answered. Friend did not really like my answer (which was not an opinion sort of answer, pretty much fact-based and all). I attempted to joke with Friend about not dropping money off for the asparagus.

Get groceries, speedy quick. Team somewhat cooperative.

Get back in the car, notice voicemail on the phone. Listen to Friend's voicemail. She called back to leave me a 19 year long message about how I treated her like crap in front of her student (over the phone, mind you), and how I am just so rude and on and on and on and how she had rude kids all day long and on and on and on.

Scratch head on the way to other friend's house to pick up money for asparagus, refrain from calling Friend back and Actually Being Rude.

Called Friend back and Apologized Profusely And Genuinely While Saying In A Straight-Forward Manner I Really Truly Have No Idea What In God's Name She Is Talking About.

Make 354987321349876 more stops before picking up 227 pounds of asparagus.

Notice the baby kindasorta looks like a tomato.

Make 76543 stops before coming home.

Attempt to make dinner for the children whilst weighing out people's pounds of asparagus.

Put bread in the oven, hope it isn't overproofed.

Attempt to feed the children dinner that they really Are Not Going To Eat In This Lifetime Even Though It Is The Single Most Desireable Food Ever.

Measure more and more and more asparagus.

Notice the baby has enormous welts on his arms and legs, and that he is a bright, sort of food coloring color of red. Not the kind of red that actually happens naturally.

Call Cross Current, call the on-call doctor. I hate calling the on-call. I know it's their jobs, but the doctor on-call last night has three small children, and it was getting bedtime-ish, and really, who wants to hear about a rashy baby?

Send my mother to the pharmacy for Benadryl. And ice for my whisky, which I was planning to get into. With a pint glass normally reserved for beer. Aim high, that's what I tell the kids.

Got a phone call from Friend, who said it was highly likely she was being oversensitive and that she had the Worst Day Ever, which included passing out at the eye doctor (whatthe?!?!?), and that she hopes we can just be over it. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Put the children to bed whilst continuing to measure out asparagus.

Visit with an old friend (she's not old, I've just known her longer than my kids, so that makes her old). Try to have intelligent conversation without falling asleep midsentence.

The Mister came home around 9:30. He fetched me booze. Thank God.

Friend stayed until 11 (and that is a good thing).

I fell asleep at 11:02. It would have been sooner, but I had to brush my teeth and take my contacts out.

All this on no coffee.

pamela's guide to recovering from a mind-numbing day

1. Jump out of bed after being rudely awakened by thunder at 6:27 a.m. to run outside for the two loads of laundry that are still on the line from yesterday. Try hard to find a shoe for your right foot from the pile of shoes at the bedside. Settle for two left fake Crocs. Trip down the back stairs and over the demon cat. Carry the overflowing laundry basket to the front door and knock so that you a) scare the fluids from The Mister, who was not aware that you were outside, and b) do not drop all of the clean diaper covers on the dirty porch floor.
2. Hug said Mister goodbye, wish him well for the day, say you'll see him sometime when the evening hours are represented by double digit numbers.
3. Put the kettle on to make coffee.
4. Go upstairs to ask the internets what the weather will be, and if it will rain for the rest of the day. Because you promised the short people they could go to the playground today, and they are going to be pissed off if you have decided to Make It Rain and Renege On Your Word. Because all they wanted to do Yesterday, Day Of Misery And Riding In The Car For Hours With Gas At $4.12 A Gallon To Get Groceries And 227 Pounds Of Asparagus, was go to the playground and you are a Bad, Meanie Mother.
5. Cringe, and Consider Drinking Whisky At 7 a.m. when the internets say it is highly likely that it will rain all day.
6. Read Bossy, Maggie, Dammit, and read the New York Times.
7. Catch a whiff of something that smells hot. Cringe again, because once it smells hot, it is too late already, so prepare to deal with something really awful.
8. Run to the kitchen just in time to see the handle fall off the tea kettle. And be overwhelmed by the smell of melting plastic.
9. Cry.
10. Cry.
11. Cry some more.
12. Photograph singed tea kettle.
13. Take a self-portrait to show everyone on the internets how sad you are.
14. Get makeshift tea kettle (read: saucepan) out of the cupboard and attempt to boil water without ruining things.
15. Grind coffee.
16. Do not leave the kitchen, because you cannot be trusted to remember what it is you are actually doing.
17. Pray that you do not burn anything for the rest of the day your life.
18. Thank God you don't ever put the children on the stove, because you probably would have ruined them by now as well. Also pray about no rain, and that you don't leave a child at the playground.
19. Try to push the French Press down, but find you are unable to even do that. Pour one half cup of coffee. Try again with moderate success.
20. Sigh.
21. Pour some creamer in your coffee, and some on the floor.
22. Sigh. Again.
23. Go outside to look at the pretty poppies, and wish that your poppies were the kind that knocked Dorothy and her friends out on their way to Oz. Because that might help a little.
24. Enjoy a highly mediocre cup of coffee, and keep reminding yourself that it is more coffee than you have had in 48 hours. Also enjoy one of the last items left of the Really Bad Habit, as NYS has just enacted at $2.50 tax on each pack, and there will be no more Really Bad Habit going on over here. Good work, NY state! Bastards.
25. Turn to walk into the front yard to admire the pea plants. Stand there like a moron and watch the cat puke all over the neighbor's sidewalk. (Note to self: Get worm pills.)
26. Realize you left your gallon of expensive organic Amish cow milk IN THE CAR, OVERNIGHT.
27. Go back in the House That Smells Of Burned Plastic, and say a few words of fond remembrance over the tea kettle.
28. Don't fold the six loads of laundry that really wish they were back in the drawers, already. Because it has been days and days since they have been clean. And they are considering moving out.
29. Contemplate showering, and its positive effect on your life.
30. Get more coffee.

happy june.

This is the June picture on the calendar we gave the g'parents for Christmas.

He has more teeth now. And his face is a little thinner, but he still has the same number of chins as me.