X-Man has been glued back together. And sent home. I advocated for a 21 day quarantine, taking one just to make sure he was ebola free. I mean, you can’t be too safe. But they were not interested. Apparently you can actually be too safe.

I was ahead of the game this year. We had people over to carve pumpkins. Because hacking up produce seems like a reasonable thing to do when one feels like celebrating. Why should evergreen trees get all the holiday action?

The pumpkins had been selected during a rainy, muddy trip to the pumpkin patch, of course. The father figure decided to go all father of the year and print of images to carve into the pumpkins. The girls loved it. He went all out, and as someone who can barely get through the triangle eyes, I was more than happy to hand everything off to him. And so had a monster face and a cool looking spider. I was happy to display them and was relived to check them off my to do list. But no good dead goes unpunished.

It was buffet time. We came home from a day of soccer to fine our decor defaced. Complete with gnaw marks. Which eliminated teenagers or other prankster. But not X-Man. I suspected squirrels, I've heard they lose their nuts over pumpkins. So we shrugged and called it a day. 

When I opened up the curtains the next morning I was greeted to this sight. Not only had some rude creature moved on to my non carved decorative pumpkins that were supposed to last until Thanksgiving, he had failed to clean up after himself. Which of course, again did not eliminate a child of mine. The babies kept watch, complete with smeared hand prints all over the window, but we failed to catch the culprit. 

Another day, another soccer practice and we returned to this.

 Not content to eat one decorative pumpkin, he went whole hog on the second one as well. And, his cleaning skill mirrored my children. Again the kids kept watch. It got to the point it looked as if several squirrels from the local high school showed up and had a massive party while the parents were gone.

He was not content just to trash the front porch area. He's chaos spread through the garden.




But our patient waiting eventually paid off and we saw this desperately hungry squirrel feasting away.

For the record, that would be the fourth pumpkin he had invaded. As you can see, he's extremely hungry. And under fed.


The mess is driving me nuts. But the open bar is irresistible to our rodent friend. And keeps the babies entertained for copious amounts of time. So for now, the carnage stands.

I was planning a post for today. I actually had pictures selected and everything. Then X-Man played beat the clock with the front door in a desperate attempt at escape. He lost. And now is bleeding from his eye. Which means stitches or ebola. We're waiting at urgent care, he's watching Netflix,  I'm writing. It's almost as if we were home.

Of course he made the mad dash right as I was serving dinner. So I'm hungry and bloody and out of books on my kindle. And I'm very aware that I might have to pin down X-Man while people wave sharp objects near his eye. Stay tuned.

So while driving the children to various activities, a warning light came on in the car. It was a newer message for me, Service Stability System. I was clueless as to what that meant. A little googling told me that that sort of message usually requires about $1200 to fix. The father figure was unimpressed with my hysterical phone call and refused to tell me which shop to take it to until he researched the matter a bit further. Something about having to know what the problem was in order to know where to take it. So he came home, did his own research and determined that the brake fluid needed topping off. To the tune of $3. The message disappeared.

No good comes from a hysterical mother googling. I had images of the car, carrying all five kids tipping over, having a stability system requiring service.  Google probably could see me, willing to spend anything to keep my poor minivan hostage children safe, and gleefully saw “SUCKER!!!!”

Or something.

Not that we saved any money. After a quick trip to the car parts store, it was off to Lowes. To spend zillions of dollars on repairs to the house, courtesy X-Man. We prudently decided on the cheapest toilet paper roll holder, as it primarily functions as that on which X-Man stands to look out the window. The window you can’t see out of as it is in the bathroom, but that doesn’t stop X-Man. Hope springs eternal I suppose. We also pick a cheap hand towel holder, as the nice one we bought broke under Cinco’s weight as she swung from it.

The father figure then proceeded to patch to hole in the ceiling, that came from X-Man’s numerous bathroom flooding’s. X-Man was excited to help the father figure; Cinco got her head stuck in the step stool. I’m taking bets on how long the new bathroom fixture last. I don’t anticipate X-Man flooding the bathroom anytime soon. Not due to the repercussions of his behavior, those seemed to make no impact. But now he’s no longer napping, and by napping I mean, sneaking out of his room while everyone else stays downstairs to keep it quiet.

Speaking of failing to properly respect naptime, Cinco can now climb out of her bed. She still sleeps in our room, again for the solitude that nap time requires. Only her naptime looks more like a hurricane, if hurricanes emptied drawers.  The phrase “no rest for the wicked” keeps running through

my mind. And as I’m the one not rested……..

When unattended, X-Man’s hair blossoms, or deteriorates depending on which parent you are talking to, a wild mess of curls. It’s particularly impressive when he wakes up. Add to it a bleary eyed, stumbling chunk of a kid, and it is incredibly cute when he wakes up.  His morning routine has made even the grumpiest of father figures smile. He staggers in to wherever a parent is, smiles widely and turns around. He then backs up, complete with beeping noises, until he reaches his intended target. And then he plops down in your lap. If you take a while to catch on to the routine, he’ll wait, standing in front you….beeping impatiently.

I’ve most likely made a strategic mistake. By the third sports practice of the day, X-Man needed to use the potty. And, of course, there were none to be had. So I took X-Man around the corner and let him have at it. He’s a fan. And decided he should try to go three more times.

It’s time to wean Cinco. At 18 months, she’s nursed longer than any other child of mine.  She likes to use her nursing opportunities not as chances to eat or bond, but rather as a means of driving siblings off of my lap. Also, she’s is just as content to lift my shirt and blow raspberries on my stomach. Followed by uproarious laughter on her part. The beautiful bonding moments that you read about on the interwebz…..yeah, not so much.  She doesn’t seem to care that the ample stomach on which she likes to blow copious amounts of spittle on is the size it is in no small thanks to her. I dread to think how she’s going to treat me in the nursing home.

So that’s my life at the moment. Mac, Baby and Baba are all hard working students. X-Man thinks he’s a truck and Cinco thinks she’s a clown.

I came home from Mac’s swimming lessons to find the kids watching ESPN….Monday Night Football. I’m doing something right.

It’s been crazy busy recently. Exhausting and overwhelming. I’ve been running the kids everywhere, while the father figure holds down the fort with the Youngers. We don’t do much as a whole family these days, but Saturday was quite the family day. A couple of soccer games, a birthday party and a wedding.

The father figure has maintained several friendships despite the circus in which he lives. And so, as people he’s been friends with for over a quarter century get married, he likes to attend. Part of his pleasure in attending comes from being able to show off his children to the various childhood friends and their parents. Why he likes to show them off confuses me, I much more into hunkering down and waiting everything out. And by everything, I mean toddlerhood.

But, I wasn’t in charge of this operation, so off to the wedding we went. It was in a lovely area. As we were walking in I had a sinking feeling that this wasn’t a good idea. For starters, they had breakable dishes on the tables. Along with real table cloths. Furthermore, the ceremony set up indicated it was a small, intimate wedding. All the easier to hear small kiddos, and who wouldn’t want the protestations of small persons to echo through their momentous occasion.

While we weren’t late, which was a first for weddings we’ve attended this year, we weren’t early, which meant we were closer to the front than I would have ever freely chosen. But trying to seat seven persons anywhere does not leave a lot of options, so we sat ourselves down. And waited.

It was a wedding, so it was running late.  Much to the children’s chagrin. Small persons were getting antsy, so when Baby offered to take X-Man over to admire the waterfall and pond just a few feet away from our seats. Against my better judgment, I assented. And so, Baby, Mac and X-Man went off to investigate.  I kept an eye on them, poised for X-Man to leap in.  Sure enough he stopped and prepared to enter the water. Fortuntately he wise chose to remove his clothing before submerging himself. Few things make me move faster than a naked toddler, as I have learned over the weeks.

I reached X-Man before he disrobed, although not before he had mooned the assembled guests. Everyone was restless, and had been observing the children near the water, anticipating something. We do nothing if not enteratain the masses. As the wedding party hadn’t entered yet, the skeptical was enjoyed by all without ruining anything other than my brief calm.

I missed the ceremony as Cinco decided that she should serenade the couple with forlorn songs about be denied the opportunity to observe the water falls due to poor behavior on the part of her brother. I rejoined the family in time to partake in the receiving line, which, due to the forward location of our seats, was towards the end of the group. This resulted in us entering the reception area to see several groups of five taking up tables that sat seven and left us with a table, right smack dab in the center of the room, set for four people.

An open bar makes all sorts of sitting arrangements tolerable. Mac made his peace with the fact that the bride and groom eat first at their wedding. Also, that the hour de overs people never actually made it over to our table, although I’m guessing they weren’t serving goldfish crackers anyway.

Cinco ate her body weight in prime rib; everyone else enjoyed their food, although with small persons on your lap, at a small table, it’s hard to eat your own plate of food. Baba and Baby were restless and offered to take their brothers outside. I quickly agreed. And ate all of six bites before Baba waltzed back in to give me an update “X-Man sort of fell in the water.”

Of course he did.

Sure enough, X-Man was shuffling in behind her. I’m unclear what was meant by “sort of” because the boy was sopping wet. His feet were wet as was his hair. In my book, wet head to toe means you actually totally fell in. No matter how you choose to look at it, the boy left a trail of wet footprints on the hard wood floor. The first party foul of the evening.

I think it says a lot of my state in life that my first thought, on observing my son was “Oh good, his clothes are still on.” It looks like he took the whole “you only live once” approach.