Who aw YOU?

Everyday, as soon as the kids leave for school,

Owen says, "Okay, Mom. Who aw you?"

(As in, who am I pretending to be for the morning.)

I've been Dora before but usually I'm Princess Leia.

Then I have to guess who Owen is.

He's kind enough to give me clues like "I'm gween and weally weally WEALLY little."

(Yoda)

Or, "I have foy ahms and I'm a bad guy."

(General Grievous)

Is there a theme here? He's never even seen Star Wars.

So, here was his clue the other day:

"I have two guns and my name stawts with 'OOO'."

I start my guessing..Ooga-Booga.

No.

Oogally-shmoogally.

No.

I can't think of anyone from Star Wars that starts with "Ooo".

I give up.

He gives me one last clue.

Carefully sounding out each letter, he says

"Ooo Ooo Ooo Wex!"

Of course, Rex!

(Duh, mom.)

Guess what?

Owen just turned to me and very randomly said,

"Guess what? Everyone goes to the baffroom. Even Darf Vader."

That's what it's like to be the first kid

Our car conversations are my favorite.

Today Aubrey asked the boys, "So how many kids do you want?

"Like, how many kids do you want to work for? 'Cause you have to pay for them."

Owen said he wanted 60 1/2.

Aubrey looked at him like he was crazy and said, "You want to work for that many kids?

"Wait, what's a half?"

(Pause in conversation)

Then Aubrey says, "You have to have more than one

because the first one you test everything out on.

"Like, you know how you get a glass of water and do a whole bunch of tests on it?

That's what it's like to be the first kid."

30 Year Old Grandpa

It was Brad's job to vacuum today. The kitchen/dining room was in need.

Naturally, when one pulls a chair out to vacuum under it, one needs to take that chair all of the way into another room.

Naturally, when another room has four additional chairs, a bench and a high chair, that room becomes a train station.

And the floor automatically becomes hot lava.

At this point, pillows start appearing from all corners of the home.

A small chair is seen being gently tossed across the room.

I remind the passengers that that cute little chair is about thirty years old and should be taken better care of.

Passenger Ethan declares "Yeah, if that was a 30 year old Grandpa, you wouldn't treat it like that!"

At dinner tonight, we told Drew about Ethan's funny line. Someone said, "That's impossible! A 30 year old Grandpa!"

I, being the ever popular Actual Factual, pipe in with "Actually, a 30 year old man could be a grandpa. If he had a child when he was 15 and then if that child had a baby when he was 15..."

Drew replied, "That may be biologically possible, but not socially acceptable."

Ethan responds, " Yeah. Because HE couldn't have a baby at all. (Duh!)"

When I'm 64.

Wednesday night I had a dream that a crew from the city came and did our yard work.

It was that out of control.

Yesterday, my nephew took a look at our weed infested lawn and asked me what I was growing?

Last night, at about 8:30, I decided it was time we regain control.

I took on the dandelions.

Drew manned the weed-eater and trimmer.

Ethan mowed small sections of the lawn until Drew was ready to take over.

Aubrey and Bradley were armed with clippers and deadheaded the roses.

Owen was there with snow shovel in hand, ready to catch the fallen.

All the while, Karie slept.

The kids did well until about 9:15.

I suggested they ride their bikes.

Drew continued mowing and I continued weeding.

By this time I had moved to the flower beds and the street light was our only source of light.

The kids were cheering for my cause, chanting

"Die morning glory! Die! I shall dance on your grave!"

I suggested they go and get some popsicles.

We called it quits at 9:40.

I was dirty and sweaty and smelly.

After getting everyone "one more drink of water" and trying to satisfy their pains caused by near-starvation, I decided that summer is not my favorite season.

I hate being hot.

It makes me irritable.

I hate feeling sweat dripping down my back while talking to my neighbor on her front porch.

I hate how my clothes have that irritating stiction with my skin.

I hate not being able to do yard work in the middle of the day.

That makes me even more irritable.

I'm a prisoner.

I am bound by heavy chains to air-conditioned locations.

I told Drew that when I'm in the nursing home,

please make certain that I do not have

a plastic covered mattress.

I don't think that I could handle that.

A fan blowing directly on me would be a plus.

And if it wouldn't be too much to ask, please play with my hair.

(Drew just smiled at me and started playing with my hair.)

I love Drew.