I am strong, invincible, woman, yadda yadda yadda...

I remember back when Luke graduated from the Fire Academy, the chief told all of the families "There will be times when you'll need them at home, and they won't be there for you." And I thought at the time that he was talking about serious things, like tornados and exploding hot-water heaters and things that go bump in the night. But so far it's been more like not being able to find my mixer because he put it away, and needing to go to Wal-Mart for children's tylenol at 11:00 p.m., and most recently--catching lizards...

It all started last week on a day that--of course--Luke wasn't here. I went upstairs to run on the treadmill and was greeted by a little green anole hanging out on the wall. After some inspection, I saw that the window--the only one in the house with no screen on it--was open ever so slightly, just raised about an inch. Well, I figured the little guy (and I know it was a guy because he didn't have that tell-tale stripe running down the length of his body) had just come in, so I opened the window all the way and started running. Ben sat down on the floor and watched him for a little while before losing interest and going back into the playroom. I kept half an eye on him as he wound his way around the wall and eventully disappeared on he other side of the window trim. When I finished running, I checked and he was nowhere to be found. Satisfied that he had gotten back out, I closed the window and went on my merry way.

I've been upstairs running almost every day since then and haven't seen my little friend, until today--a week later, Luke at work again--when I went up and was greeted by the same lizard, in almost the exact same place on the wall, but this time when I checked the window it was closed. I knew it was the same one because a little piece of his tail was missing. I opened the window again and started cleaning the playroom, checking on his progress every once in a while. I got really excited once because he got about four inches from the open window, but then he turned around and went back, and it was at that point that I knew I'd have to intervene. So I spent the next thirty minutes chasing that thing all around the window--which is not really my thing, because even though I really enjoy nature, not so much in my house--until he finally hid behind the bookcase, which I was not about to move. I gave up and figured we'd find his skeleton when we moved and wondered just how bad a four-inch lizard stinks when it starts to decompose.

Then we had two birthday parties to go to today, and one of them was Mary Kate's and we had gotten her a new play-doh set. So of course, when we got home, the boys wanted to play with their play-doh. I got them all set up in the playroom and then looked up and saw the saddest sight in the world. The lizard was sitting on my shutterblinds, staring out the window. If there was ever an animal that had given up hope, this was it. He didn't even bother to look at me when I approached him this time. He just gazed outside. It was pathetic. I felt so bad I knew I had to do something. He wasn't going to die miserable on my watch, and certainly not in my house! So I decided to get down to business with this lizard. First things first--I called all my neighbors to see if there was any kind of man available to come get this thing out of my house. Unfortunately I live amidst a bunch of good Southern Baptists, and being Sunday night, they were all at church. Shoot! Time for the tough to get going. Long story short--there was running, there was squealing, there was a lot of wiggling (by him, not me), but in the end, I got him trapped in a tupperware and took him outside, where he hopped out and ran away, with nary a glance of thanks, the little ingrate!

Ugh--lizards in my house--so not my thing. I'm so glad it's out. Now I just have to wait for the next diaster to strike while Luke's gone, like not being able to get the lid off the pickle jar...

Fall Ball

So last spring Patrick played soccer, as we all know. And it was fine, but he didn't love it. Then we got on a real casual baseball team this summer that was kind of over before it even started, and I never got pictures. But it was enough for Patrick to know that he really likes baseball. So we signed up for fall ball and now it is underway. The first game was Tuesday and it went fine. Here are a few pics...

They play two innings total...meaning each team gets to bat a full rotation twice. Outs and runs aren't kept track of, but they do try to move the ball the right way so the kids can learn what they're actually supposed to be doing.

Each kid gets three pitches from the coach, and if they don't get a hit, they use the tee. Patrick hit the first pitch both times. He's a pretty good hitter. In the summer league he only had to use the tee once in four games. But I suppose it all depends on the pitch too. There aren't any strikes or anything. Just hit what's coming at you. But he does it well.

How cool is my kid??? Yes, he did catch it!

Air Show 2008

In what's shaping up to be an annual family tradition, we went to the air show for the third straight year this weekend. Well, Patrick went for the third straight year, Luke went for the second straight year, and Ben and I went for the first time. You might wonder why we keep going back? Truth be told, I'm not sure--three years from now I may be completely sick of it--but this time I thought it was fun. HOT. Very hot...but fun.

God Bless America

Today of all days...be proud of this country, support our soldiers, pray for peace, believe in heroes, salute the flag, and thank God for what we still have.

It's his active imagination...I SWEAR.

Patrick came home today with his third yellow light note of the year. It seems like his teacher this year is a little more strict than last year's. Which is fine, but he better watch his step a little more closely. Anyway, we had the obligitory talk about what was going to happen the next time he got a yellow light note, then had this subsequent conversation:

Luke: You should also remember that Santa is watching you.

Me: And he doesn't bring presents to bad boys.

Patrick: He doesn't????

Me: No, he brings a lump of coal instead. Is that what you want?

Patrick: What's coal?

Me: It's a rock. He brings the bad boys a rock for Christmas.

Patrick: To smash them over the head with?


Like I said, it's his imagination, and that's all.

Living With Boys

Overheard in the car on the way home tonight:

"Hey! Where'd my booger go?!?"

Indian...Corn

This weekend we were supposed to go to Gigi and Grandpa's house, but we won't get into that because if you are reading this blog, chances are good that you actually are Gigi or Grandpa, so you already know how that turned out. Anyway, we changed plans and the boys spent some of the long weekend with Ma and Pa. On Sunday they went to an American Indian festival and I don't know much of what happened except that they ate somethig blue that made them poop Grover-colored and they also got these headresses:

Cute, huh? Patrick looks like he took a few too many puffs on the peace pipe while he was there...

Anyway, while they were off saying "how" and hopefully learning some effective rain dances, I was busy completely destroying my house. On purpose, no less! Luke and I decided it was time to re-paint the downstairs and hallway (I'm not going to get into our reasons, but we had them and they were good), so we skipped off to get some paint and came home and proceeded to uglify the house in ways I had not thought possible. What is it with paint, for crying out loud? How does soft warm yellow turn into something that can only bring to mind a giant can of CORN smeared all over the walls??? I kept repeating the phrase from the IKEA commercial, "Be brave, not beige." And this is what I get for listening to the Scandinavian folk. Now I have corn walls. And I didn't get much sleep last night because of them. You know, if I am very very bad in this lifetime and I end up going to hell, I am pretty sure I know what's in store for me down there. I will be faced with an eternity of potty-training toddlers and picking out paint colors. Yeah...I think I'll go to confession tomorrow.

Okay, but back to the paint--it's not the end of the world. I just paint it again. It's what I do. I paint, cry and then re-paint, and I usually get it right the second time. So today I went and got a quart of a more conservative yellow and got to work on my test wall (yes, I realize I should have done this to begin with, shut up please) and I am liking it much better. I'm still not sure it's exactly what I am looking for, so I will wait until morning when I can see it with some natural light and then decide whether it's good enough or if I want to try one more shade. I'll do a little each night so by the end of the week the corn should be nothing but a horrible memory and then we'll never speak of this again.

Today we went to Ma and Pa's house to join the kids in swimming one last time this summer. It wasn't great swimming weather (thanks Gustav), but it was a relaxing day and we had a great meal, topped off by an insanely good homemade peach pie that I whipped up at 5:30 this morning in the corn kitchen. Everyone liked it and that made me happy because I was reminded that, even if I am a complete loser at picking out paint colors, there are still some things that I can do really well.