It aint easy being Green

And Tyler, I still love you, even though you LOVE frogs.

The longest day of my life

It's possible that today was the longest day of my life. If you don't believe me, by all means coat your eyes in turquoise shadow, gloss your lips in hot pink, rat your hair and squeeze your size 12 (OK, 14 but shhh!) body into a size 10 prom dress circa 1972. Should that not be quite enough to send you over the edge, by all means pose for a photo, outside, with the dress zip tied shut in the back while children are walking home from middle school. It's even better if you can't get the dress off either over your head or over your "ample" hips when the photo shoot finally ends.

Fun doesn't even begin to describe it.

We love Tickle

What color are you?

Melissa, your true color is Green!

You're green, the color of growth and vigor. Good-hearted and giving, you have a knack for finding and bringing out the best in people. Green is the most down-to-earth color in the spectrum — reliable and trustworthy. People know they can count on you to be around in times of need, since your concern for people is genuine and sincere. You take pride in being a good friend. For you, success is measured in terms of personal achievement and growth, not by status or position. Rare as emeralds, greens are wonderful, natural people. It truly is your color!

http://web.tickle.com/rd/52658/invite?type=t&test=1108&inviter_id=Y-2maCKvrJGZ59Hr&inviter=Melissa

I didn't pray for strength. . .

I may have accidentally prayed to make it through something, but I know I didn't pray for strength. The last time I prayed for that was in 1996 when I was trying to survive two small babies and in answer to my prayers, God blessed me with 3 kids in 2 and 1/2 years. That certainly taught me a lesson. No more prayers for strength. I am quite as strong as I wish to be right now, thank you very much.

However, in the very Protestant attitude of "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.", I would like to take this opportunity to lie on my bed waiting for death to come. You see, I am rather certain that this latest trial will kill me.

I wasn't even going to blog about it, as embarrassing as it is, but it seems I cannot resist the lure of the blog. The catharsis, the empathy. So, in an attitude of "keeping it real", I will confess that my son had lice. We found them yesterday morning.

How is it possible that he contracted lice? It's a mystery wrapped in a riddle. He doesn't go to school. He doesn't have sleep overs. He doesn't share hats or pillows or bedding with anyone (except his younger brothers, but we will get to that). He doesn't share combs and brushes. In fact, I don't think he even combs his hair. The only place he has gone in the last 2 weeks is on a scout camp out. Out of all of the kids, him? Luckily, he scrubs his hair every single day, which I think saved us from a much more serious fate.

Of course, once lice are found, the all out war must be waged. Every item of bedding in the house, all dirty clothes, all clean clothes which were left on the floors of bedrooms and not put away, all towels and robes must be laundered. And because my kids play rotating beds every single night, not one bed was exempt. Not one. In my house of 7 people, that equates to somewhere in the neighborhood of 3,000 loads of laundry. All in one day.

Then, of course, you also have the part where you cover everyone's head's in toxic chemicals and leave it on for 10 minutes, then scrub it out while trying to avoid poisoning their eyes, and the part where you vacuum and spray every centimeter of carpet, upholstery and mattress in the entire house. Which means every window has to be opened, so then another load of blankets must be rushed through the washer and dryer to make up for the fact that the upstairs heater is not currently working. Did I mention that one of my gems also plugged the toilet?

Please God, just take me now. I'd ideally like to go before the remaining 2,950 loads of laundry require my attention. I'm begging now.

A Moment of Science

At least one kid is learning something. . .

Shampoo

Nate: (from the shower) Mom! I need the boy shampoo! (this is the shampoo which smells like boy and not like flowers)

Me: Are you planning on running into any girls tomorrow that you'll be trying to impress?

Nate: No. (10 second of silence as he put "girl" shampoo on his hand)
Nate: (looking up at me earnestly) Well, maybe.

Add more recipes

I should really add more. Feel free to submit your family favorites. Or, request recipes for particular items. I'm sure I have a great one somewhere!

Flooding and Fishtailing

Mini Cooper convertibles and a deluge of a rain storm do not mix. I know this first hand.

A few things that make the Mini unsuitable:

• No rear windshield wiper
• No rear visibility
• No side visibility
• No weight to the car
• At least one bald tire
• Front wipers not fast enough for said deluge

In addition to that, let it be said that Southern California drivers are not at all equipped for rain. So, we were coming home from the airport last night (with Tyler in the front seat because the back seat was the only place large enough for our luggage) and the rain was pouring. It was pouring to the point that I thought I might have to pull over and wait for a lull. I'm talking drops the size of silver dollars spreading across the windshield and falling so fast that the wipers gave me virtually no visibility before the windshield was covered again.
Through all of this, I catch a glimpse of a big electronic sign which reads, "ADVERSE WEATHER. PLEASE DRIVE WITH CAUTION". No one slowed from their 60+ mph. This was followed a short time later with a sigh that read, "FLOODED HIGHWAY. REDUCE SPEED." Again, no one slowed down, except for me. Within a minute or so, my car was completely engulfed by a spray of water pluming up from the cars in front of me. I kid you not, it went to both sides as well as up and over my car. And then, I saw all sorts of brake lights, and cars started fishtailing down the highway, careening into each others' lanes. And I couldn't really tell where anyone was because I could only intermittently see out of my front window, and the red glow of taillights through vast quantities of water is not enough to tell you if your small son is about to be crushed by an airbag or not. So, I continued to slow without braking, held the wheel as steady as I could (even though I'm pretty sure my tires weren't on actual ground at that point either) and prayed like I have never prayed before. Tyler slept peacefully the entire time.

And here we are unscathed, so that's good.