We tried going out last Friday morning to celebrate having finished all our schoolwork. I was going to take them out for donuts. But the donut place ended up having two - count 'em, two - parking spaces, neither of which I would be able to back the van out of without absolutely decimating something. So we decided to go to the other donut place in town (why we have two is a mystery to me), but then I couldn't find it. So we decided to stop at the library to pick up our holds, regroup, and check Maps before trying again. And again, even with all modern technology available to me in the Maps app, I couldn't find it.
So, we pivoted and decided to try Dairy Queen. We discovered upon our arrival that our DQ's current business strategy involves complete abandonment during business hours. It's bold. I admit I don't fully understand the method behind the madness, but I've never been one to readily understand finance. I'm the kind of ignoramus that would have my business open during business hours, but I guess that's why none of my zero business ventures have ever succeeded. (But none of them have ever failed, either, so maybe I have more business acumen than I give myself credit for.)
So, we scrapped our trip. I had to get home so that Atticus could load the mower into the van for a mowing job, so I left the other kids in charge of making lunch while we were gone. Tuna salad after you've been expecting donuts and ice cream is a pretty low blow, but they (mostly) handled themselves with aplomb. I told them we could try again after lunch.
But then Atticus had another mowing job in the afternoon, so to save me time, Todd just suggested we go to Wendy's for Frosties after dinner. Sold. It ended up working out okay, and we got ghost pepper fries to go with them, and everyone was happy with the arrangement.
How I felt about the kickoff to summer break, and the staying power of the lid on that sideways Frostie.
Saturday was spent washing rocks. Literally. We scooped up all the dirty, detritus-ridden rock from the chicken yard, washed it in soapy water in the kiddie pool, hauled it by the bucket, and dumped it into a new rock bed I'm making.
I told Todd that I feel like I'm panning for gold, except for, instead of gold, it's rocks I don't even want.
Why make more rock beds when the bane of my existence is rock beds, you ask? Well, because the rock has to go somewhere. It's like the weight of sin. Or student debt. Or the pink tub ring in The Cat and the Hat Comes Back. It doesn't just disappear. You have to find an effective and lawful place for it to get transferred to if you don't want to live with it where it is for the rest of your life.
For me, the target for transference of the rock (when I can't pawn it off on our friends and neighbors) is our other side yard, which has a big ugly electrical panel, and then a medium-sized ugly electrical panel, and then a baby ugly electrical panel. It's like something right out of a fairy tale, only instead of bears, it's stuff you have to mow around. Well, no longer, because: ROCKS.
So we shoveled and washed and sorted and dumped and hauled and poured rock all day on Saturday, until it was time to come inside and prep Sabbath dinner.
Saturday night, Oey started crying in the night, which is very unusual for her, so I went in to check on her, only to discover she was laying in a huge puddle of her own puke and feeling very confused and sad. So we gave her a midnight bath, changed her sheets, rocked her, laid her back down, and then did the whole thing again half an hour later when it happened again. Sick babies are just so sad - they have no idea what is going on, or why they feel the way they do, or what all this stuff is everywhere, or if they'll ever feel better again, and you can't explain to them that it's all going to be okay. So I rocked her and rocked her, then laid her down, did some laundry so we'd have more crib sheets available if we needed them, then laid awake until 3:30, listening to make sure she didn't get sick again.
She didn't. She woke up feeling fine. I didn't take her to church out of caution, but she acted fine, at breakfast normally, and went down for her morning nap. I should tell you that her morning nap is still about three hours long (she is a sleeper), so once she was asleep and the rest of the family was at church, I was all by my lonesome IN MY OWN HOUSE. It was weird. I folded laundry, worked out, twiddled my thumbs, then had to readjust to the noise level of my real life once everyone got home. Then later in the day, we celebrated Pentecost Sunday with a cheeseboard, and have now entered into that blessed rest that is Ordinary Time, in which most of the official feast days in our home are wrapped up until Reformation Day at the end of October. Celebrating is hard work!
Monday was Memorial Day, and was spent washing yet more rock. I also made some slow-cooked baked beans, homemade pasta salad, and prepped brats and chicken for our annual cook-out. The food turned out only okay for all that, which was a bummer, but the company more than made up for it.
Austin made a bench seat all around the garden box, and it was the perfect height to push the table up to.
I had to include this picture of Juni.
After dinner, we got cleaned up, at which point Atticus told me his stomach didn't feel right. But nothing really came of it. Until we got back out into the yard to roast marshmallows for our MeS'morial Day s'mores... at which point he suddenly, unexpectedly, conspicuously started upchucking into the grass. So, that was a surprise.
He went inside to soak in an epsom bath, and the other kids started roasting their marshmallows once we got the yard hosed down. It ended up still being a really fun night, for everyone except Atticus, obviously. He went to bed early, but didn't wake up through the night or feel sick in the morning, so his was quick like Oey's had been. (Juni also had the same thing happen last week, but I forgot about it when I blogged so it never got logged as a workplace incident.)
Will you please take a second and pray with me that the grass grows back in that spot under the fire pit where it ended up getting scorched to hell? I feel inordinately sad about my lack of foresight and avoidance.
After barf cleanup, I took a shower before rejoining the gang. You understand.
Anyway. That was how we kicked off Monday of our first full week of summer.
Tuesday involved more rocks, because this is what I live for now. There is no Dana, there isn't even Zuul; only rocks. I took a break for a bit in the morning to go to the appliance place to order the parts to repair our dishwasher. According to the guy, they should arrive in 5 to 25 days. Until then, we're still handwashing.
Wednesday was rainy, and without rocks, I didn't know what to do with myself. I read books and got crabby.
By yesterday it was sunny again, but by then I was out of the habit of Rocks-ing, so I decided it was as good a time as any to take the kids shopping for summer shoes. So we all ventured forth to Walmart. Since Todd started working from home, I haven't found myself taking all the kids on errands very often, so this was out of the ordinary. I was a bit nervous. But it went swimingly and everyone ended up shod (except for Finneas, who is in that dreaded Boys/Mens Size 5 shoe - the boys section doesn't carry them because they're too big, the mens section doesn't carry them because they're too small, so you end up ordering from DSW just to get a pair of shoes that cost more than you want to pay, and last less time than you hope they'll last because: Boys). I'll order Finneas' shoes when I get up the gumption to place an internet order. By then, maybe he'll have graduated to a size six and this problem will have solved itself.
Atticus also had two mowing jobs yesterday, and one of them was for friends who invited all the kids to come along and play in the sprinkler while Atticus mowed. So the rest of us sat in the shade, or swam to our hearts' content, while Atticus toiled away in the heat and humidity. This is a new stage of parenting.
So anyway. That was a wordy rundown of our past week. I am planning on puttering around the house today, maybe potting some plants, maybe hauling some never-ending rock. Just call me Sisyphus.
That's a tiny toad in there, if you can't see.
