Last weekend, Dan took Maria, Luke and Jack to Feed My Starving Children for a service project with the Boy Scouts.  (Yes, I know Maria is not a Boy Scout, but she had an invitation and with all our talk about it beforehand, she wanted to participate.)

What an excellent, excellent program!  I wish I had gone, and will definitely go next year.  Dan said everything moved right along, ricky-tick.  The kids were great, the program was first-rate, the kids all learned a lot and they all did well with their assigned jobs.  And, on the way home, the kids decided that they wanted to donate more to FMSC.  So, when they arrived home, Dan helped them set up a savings envelope.

This past weekend was our school’s biggest fundraiser of the year – the auction and dinner dance.  Since I didn’t have to buy a dress this year (thanks, Sis!) and Dan and I were very interested in how a couple of the auction items would do, we attended.  We had a great time, although we didn’t stay out too late… I think my Spanx somehow made the beer I drank go straight to my head.  By 10:30 or so, I was done in and needed my bed.  Sounds like we missed a few antics on the part of some friends, but then we also saved some dough on the babysitter.  And, when you’re paying for FIVE kids, every minute counts, right?

Coming up this weekend is the Pinewood Derby.  Oh, how I dread the Derby.  Not only is my house full of sawdust, paint fumes, graphite, putty and Tungsten weights, but I know what’s (potentially) coming.  The last two years, Jack’s car has done GREAT.  Last year he came in 6th place.  Out of 40.  Pretty good, right?  Well, not good enough and there were tears and howls of frustration.  As there had been the year before, despite trying to prepare him.

This year, I’m determined to avoid all that.  Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m that lucky.  I had a talk with Jack about it recently.  I explained that while he’s working hard on the car and it will look great and probably do well, he may not win.  So, I said, let’s practice.

Me (pretending I had a microphone): Jack, the car looks great, but you didn’t win.  You’re out of the race.

Jack: But… but… but  (bursts into tears).

I figure if he can’t get through the role-play without tears, we’re screwed come Saturday.

Finally, in other news, Andrew has learned a new trick.  I went to check on him when he was supposed to be napping the other day and instead found him standing up in his crib, babbling and completely naked.  Not a stitch on and everything thrown out of his bed.  I guess nothing comes between him and his crib sheet.

Oh, brother!  I mean, sister!  We can’t help spoiling her already.  While the kids were in school this morning, some moms came over to my house for a Pink Party.  (None of those hand-me-downs have enough fluff or sparkle to them!)

The “cake”:

The spread:

The Honoree:

The guests:

The quilt:

The decor:

Since Lego is his life right now, it’s all Luke asked for.  Oh, and Nerf.  Because, you know, we NEED more Lego and guns around here.  Since we are absolutely SWIMMING in both, I tried to temper things.  Dan and I stayed away from Lego and bought him a hockey jersey.  It was a hit (or should I say ‘check’?)

He did get his fix from Grandma with a new gazillion-piece Alien Conquest Copter set (which kept him and Jack busy for hours last night).  And, his West Coast aunts sent him a Star Wars Lego alarm clock – also a huge hit (at least until it starts waking him on school days.)

And then there was the cake:

This definitely makes up for the Firetruck, don’tcha think?

I believe, however, that my brain is special.  It DOES remember pain.

How, for instance, could my brain possibly forget this experience? (With this as the follow up.)  Or this one?  How about this one?  Maybe this one? Here’s another (am I a glutton for punishment or what?)  Oh!  Here’s another.

I didn’t forget.  Not one painful second.  So, I must just be incredibly stupid to have made an appointment with the local photographer to have family pictures done.

During last year’s online school auction, I bid on and won a session and portrait with a local photography studio.  (I must have been drinking heavily at the computer that night and found myself in a bidding war or something.)  I later collected my prize (in the form of a gift certificate) and set it aside.  Every once in a while, I’d come across it, think about the nightmare it would be, and set it aside again.  The last time I came across it, however, I noticed the expiration date.  December 31, 2011.  Less than two months away, and it’s holiday-picture-taking season.  It could be hard to get an appointment.  Shit.

So, I called, but they weren’t open.  Whew!  I set it aside for another week.  But, I’d be damned if I was going to waste the money I spent last February.  So, I called again.  And set an appointment.  I set it for Saturday morning at 10 a.m.  The best possible time.  No one had to get up early.  There was plenty of time to get ready.  No one should be hungry.  Things should go swimmingly.

On Friday afternoon, with less than 24 hours until our appointment, I realized that Luke had his first hockey practice on Saturday morning.  At 10 a.m.  Damn.

I called the studio and asked to reschedule.  But, I said, I really needed a Saturday.  Sure!  The lady said.  Come in at 4.  Stupidly, I agreed.

And so it started.

At 2:50 p.m., Dan took the oldest boys to distribute fliers for Good Turn Sunday.  I gave Dan strict instructions to sign in with the scout leader, grab some fliers, get them out and get back home.  Once home, they would all need to change their shirts, comb their hair and we’d all have to get to the studio.

At 3:17 p.m., while they were still gone, Andrew woke from his nap.  With flushed cheeks and a 103° temperature.

At 3:32 p.m., Maria kicked Sam in the mouth and gave him a bloody lip.

At 3:45 p.m., I’m panicking because the boys are not home.  I poured myself a glass of wine.

At 3:52 p.m., Dan and the boys are STILL NOT HOME.  I take another swig of my wine.

Minutes later, Dan pulls up.  I grab the bloodied Sam, the feverish Andrew, the kick boxer, the boys’ shirts and my f-ing gift certificate and head out the door.

Unbelievably, Dan is in a jovial mood.  (Clearly, men cannot remember pain.)

We pulled up to the place 7 minutes late.  Bad, but not too bad.

After introductions, the photographer ushered us through her storefront, passed her office and into her studio.

It was – predictably – a complete disaster.  The photographer was very nice, and had some great, silly tricks for getting Andrew to look toward the camera and smile.  The other kids, however, all thought the silliness was for them, too.  Instead of staying put, looking forward and smiling at the camera while the photographer worked with Andrew, Jack, Maria, Luke and Sam all laughed (with very wide-open mouths) at her antics, cracked up at Andrew, and grabbed for him when he attempted multiple escapes.  We tried sitting, kneeling and standing.  We tried sitting on stools and on the floor.  We put Andrew on a stump, on his brothers’ backs and in a toy car.

It got to the point where we were threatening the older kids.  I told Jack he would have to pay me a dollar for every bad take (and there were LOTS of them) if he didn’t shape up.  I told Maria she could never wear a dress again, as she kept flashing the camera.  Andrew would NOT stay put no matter what.  Luke was good, but wouldn’t smile (it’s not cool).  And, Sam began to stomp his feet and wield his fists because it was all taking SO LONG!!!

At 4:53 we gave up.  The photographer said she had one “good” family picture and one “good” picture of the children.  (Good being defined as all looking in the general direction of the camera.)

Dan scooped up the baby (but not before he could knock something down) and herded everyone to the van.  I stayed behind to schedule an appointment to go over the proofs.

As soon as we got home, we sent all the kids to their rooms for hard labor (they couldn’t come out until their rooms were sparkling) and cracked open a couple of beers.

We couldn’t get them down fast enough.

Not only did they all survive, but there was no mud, no blood and no trips to the ER (that I was told about, anyway).  It sounds like the worst things that happened were:  1)Maria taking a soccer ball to the face; and 2) Jack spilling chicken juice all over the back of the van.  (Don’t ask.)

When I returned on Sunday evening, the kids were all thrilled to see me (and I, them) and Dan did a fabulous job of pretending not to be the least bit crabby.  (He was, however, a little eager to get out the door on Monday morning…)

I guess you can only ask for so much, though.

Last night, the sister of a friend was giving a presentation on NFP.  It was her first time giving it and I had told her earlier in the week that I would try to be there to support her.  I received Dan’s blessing and so sent her a message confirming that I’d be there.

I picked up the kids from school, got a doctor’s appointment out of the way, helped with homework and fixed dinner for everyone.  When the kids were finished eating, we cleaned up, I put one in the shower, put one to bed and sent the others off to entertain themselves.

I kissed everyone good-bye and headed off to the presentation, thinking that Dan should have pretty easy time of it.

When the presentation was over, I called Dan to let him know I was heading home.  He told me that it turned out to be a fairly hectic evening, but that everyone was finally in bed.  Whew!

A few minutes later, Dan called me back.

“You’re not going to believe this,” he told me.

“The dog got skunked AGAIN?!?” I guessed.

“No.  It’s not that.  I was cleaning up my dinner (he had eaten later) when I heard someone moving around upstairs and went to investigate…”

“And the dog ate the chili!!!” I guessed again.

“No, no,” he said.  “I went upstairs and I heard someone in the bathroom, so I called out ‘Who goes there?’  But, I didn’t get any response.  So, I peeked through the crack in the door and I saw Fred* peeing… IN THE TRASH CAN!”

“WHAT?!?” I said.

“Yep,” he said.  “He was still asleep.  So, I redirected him, but it was still a mess,” Dan told me.

The crazy thing is, is that the trash can in that bathroom (which is right next to the toilet) is one that you have to step on to raise the lid!!!

Dan thought it was amusing when he was talking to me, but by the time I got home, he was pretty crabby about the mess.  Not that I blame him.

He did, however, feel validated in his theory about the Smoke Detector.

*The name of the child has been changed to protect his identity (and my life one day when the kids start reading this stuff!)

This time, with the long weekend, we chose to stay for two nights.  With all the work we have to put into assembling and dismantling the tent, I thought it would only be worth it to go for a little longer.  Of course, our camp neighbors probably didn’t think so.  Maybe next time we should camp in the true wilderness so the kids can scream their fool heads off without constantly being shushed by us.

We headed north on Saturday as soon as Maria’s soccer game was over (hers was the last of the day).  The drive should have only been about 2 hours, but the kids needed a pit stop.

Facing a stop, Maria announced that she forgot to bring SHOES.  I promise you I am not lying.  She really forgot to bring shoes.  ANY shoes.  (Don’t ask how this happens.  We already tried.  It absolutely boggles the mind.)

Dan and I started to get a little nervous, as daylight was running out quickly and we still had 30 minutes to go.  Thankfully, we found a Wal-mart right on our way and I made the fastest trip in and out ever.

We arrived at the campground with just enough daylight left to pitch our tent and get a fire started.  The first night we roasted hotdogs and then made s’mores.  With a longer stay, we had to cook more on this trip (a little easier said than done).  We had the necessary sundries and the right equipment, but not quite the finesse.  I made a “Mountain Man” breakfast Sunday morning – essentially an egg, sausage, cheese and hash browns casserole.  It was good.  Except for the burnt parts.  Thankfully, I also brought refrigerated dough and was able to fry up some doughnuts for the kids.  Now those were a hit!

The rest of Sunday was spent at the beach and on the dunes.  A Caribbean vacation it wasn’t, but the weather was absolutely perfect.  The sky was as clear and as blue as the water.  The kids had a blast.

A shovel and sand. It's all he needs.

The princess tests the water

Dan and Luke running down the dune

Loving it!

Yes, he's eating sand.

In Lake Michigan. In October.

We returned to our campsite for a cold-cut lunch and a nap for Andrew.  Dan and the big kids headed back to the beach and I tidied up and started preparing for dinner:  Beef Stroganoff.  It was great.  Except for the burnt parts.  For dessert, I made raspberry cobbler (We’d had it at the Garcia’s cabin when we were in Utah and it was excellent.)  I managed to do it right and it was a huge hit – with everyone.  No burnt parts

On Monday morning, we woke early and I fixed Beignets for breakfast, which just might have been the highlight of the whole trip! ( I would have snapped a picture, but they were gone as soon as I turned my back.)

After stuffing our faces, we packed up our campsite and went on a hike.  It was a short hike, and we found ourselves at the top of a dune, facing the lake.  Another perfect, beautiful, clear day.  I took a few pictures (I’m forever hopeful that way) and we headed back.

A long trail for such a little boy.

Love seeing them together.

Do they look alike to you?

NOT Christmas card worthy.

On the way back, we took a small detour to check out another trail and then promptly got lost.  Really.  I couldn’t make this stuff up.  Dan and Jack and I all had differing opinions (imagine that) about which direction we should go.  After trying several different options, I pulled out my iPhone.  It showed us exactly where we were.  Too bad it didn’t help, as it didn’t know where we had left the van.

Just when Maria was starting to worry about having to eat twigs and leaves and Luke was at the height of his tick obsession, (I had found one crawling on him earlier) we found our way back to the path that led us to our van.  Whew!

We couldn't possibly feed twigs to this cutie.

We made it home safe and sound on Monday afternoon.  And slept well in our own beds.

I’m still doing laundry.

But boy was he MAD.  The yelling, screaming, stomping, saying-nasty-things kind of mad.  I don’t think I helped the situation much, as when he told me he didn’t love me I told him I didn’t care.  And when he told me he was going to rip of a piece of paper he thought was mine, I told him to go ahead.

And then he started talking about moving out.

“When I turn 18, he said, I’m moving away from here.”

“Nah.  No you won’t,”  I said (again helping the situation tremendously).

“Yes I will!” He said through clenched teeth.  “On the day I turn 18, I’m going to have my celebration in the morning and then leave right after that!”

Hahahahahahahahaha.  Isn’t that awesome?  That’s my Lukie!

Dan and I may have corrupted our son… Luke ran his first 5K over the weekend.  (And can’t wait for the next one!)

Everyone (except Andrew) also played soccer this weekend. While there are too many overlaps for me to go to all of the games, I did manage to get to Sam’s game:

And to Maria’s game:

Dan coached Luke’s team in the morning and then ref’d Maria’s game in the afternoon (isn’t he so professional looking?):

And Andrew watched: