July and August 2013

Well, we slogged through summer!  Because of all the rain we had this summer, almost every day was spent pumping water out of the pool (so it wouldn’t run over and get behind the vinyl liner) and making friends with the two turtles and countless toads who took up residence there, probably because I couldn’t keep the green algae in the pool down to respectable levels.  We ended up having a lovely pond with a diving board feature.  Who cares if you could only see two inches below the surface?

Mmmm. Algae.  The slide is Jim's latest red-neck addition to the pool.  The neighbors were going to throw it out.  It launches the kids a good three feet.

After I admitted defeat with the pool (much to the kids’ disappointment as they would have swam in it with black algae and all sorts of brain-eating amoeba) we did the only thing a sane family would do, which is to visit central Texas in July.  There it’s not only hot, but the humidity is so high it feels like you’re drowning as soon as you step out of doors.    Jim’s sister and her family put us up (or put up with us), while we ate at Chuy’s (Tex-Mex), Mighty Fine (burgers), Rudy’s (barbecue), and Chez Myer’s – the dining room of my brother and sister-in-law, both of whom are pretty mean cooks and served up fish fry, ham melt sandwiches, and STEAKS.  Of course we did other things, like eat donuts from Round Rock Donuts.  And cookies from Central Market.  And bread from the local farmer’s market.

Woody and cousin Lydia

But the kids will most likely remember playing with their cousins, Lydia and Brody, exploring the caves outside of Austin, their first attempt at kayaking, swimming in a clean pool, and making duct tape wallets with Aunt Jen.  Actually, they watched Aunt Jen making wallets, and then they watched TV while Aunt Jen made wallets by herself.   

Brody and Jack

Bets and Jack

Watermelon!  Lucy, Betsy and Brody

Uncle Eric

It's all good!

Uncle Eric, Jim in the back, Woody

Lucy

Deep conversations

Betsy tries a hand at kayaking.  On the beach.

Yes, that's ONE donut in the box.

Jim said they were as big as toilet seats.  Hmmm.

Going to the farmer's market in Pflugerville.

Looooong day.

Once we got home I started nesting.  No, I’m not pregnant, but I’ve gotten so used to being pregnant every few years, and I felt compelled to completely move the dining room into the family room and vice versa.  My aim was to get us to eat at the dining room table where we could practice table manners and conversing instead of cramming ourselves in around the kitchen island, scarfing down food and watching Futurama.  This announcement was met with groans, in general, and I will overlook the fact that Jim’s were kind of loud for a supportive co-parent to be making.  It has had a few drawbacks: namely, now we have to look at each other.  And also we have to come up with things to say that don’t include reciting all of what the kids consider to be the funniest moments from the last episode of Futurama.  Now that we are looking at each other, I get to see that none of us chew with our mouths closed, and Lucy considers clothing optional at meal times … or always.  I’m just glad I convinced her to keep her underwear on this past summer (the sand from the sandbox chafes if you don’t wear underwear, I told her).  So while she is standing at the table, rubbing her derriere across the back spindles of the chair, at least the spindles are getting cleaned.  I should probably spray her pants with Endust, just to get some added benefit out of it.

Our garden was somewhat disappointing this year as the grasshoppers stripped everything bare that was edible.  So while it has rained so much that it looks like Washington in September out here, with tall, green grasses, massive tomato plants, and humongous bean and squash vines, there is nothing to be had from them.  Our blackberry bushes produced four luscious, fat blackberries that the grasshoppers somehow missed, but Betsy didn’t, and she picked them before they were ripe. 

The green, green grass of home ... in August?

This apple tree in front was stripped of its leaves. Only the apples are left.

The boys have moved on from reading every Garfield comic ever printed and are now devouring Calvin and Hobbes, which I always loved, but find somewhat altered when the comics are being read aloud by an eleven-year old boy who is following you around from room to room (or from the back seat of the car), reading through his braces (which necessitates slurping to avoid drooling), running the words hopelessly together because he’s already anticipating the punch line and laughing so hard all the while that he can’t enunciate.  But we’re all laughing by the end, anyway, even if we have no idea what Calvin and Hobbes did.

I was getting Lu ready for church the other morning, and she noticed the headband in my hair (a change from the usual ponytail). 

“Mommy,” she asked, eyes glued to the headband, “do you have a bow?” All hair accessories are "bows" here.

“Yes,” I said, surprised by her intent look. 

“Are you married?”

And then I remembered some of their Barbie dolls have wedding veils that attach to the dolls with headbands.

“Yes.”

“BETSY!” She gasped, “Mommy’s married!”

By the way, an informal study has shown that the most frequently asked question at the Manry house is “Mom?”  Jim has informed me that the next-most asked question, asked whenever I am gone, is “Where’s Mom?”

School started last week, and suddenly it’s a chore to get up at 7:30 a.m. for the kids, even though they were up and outside playing by that time all summer.  Woody is the worst and has to be dragged out with the promise of a cup of an adult hot beverage, now that he is over the Ovaltine stage.  Sometimes he can even be persuaded to take some coffee with his sugar and cream.  Both boys decided something needed to be done since getting up at the last minute wasn’t working, so yesterday they both got up early.  I came across them a half hour later.  They had made it as far as the living room, where they were sprawled out on the couch and chair, buried under blankets.  Asleep.

First day of First Grade

Once Betsy’s school is done, the girls alternately play and fight all morning.  How do other home school parents do it?  The whole keeping-everybody-happily-occupied without feeling like all the parents do is run back and forth between age groups all day at 10-minute intervals, explaining, expounding, refereeing … is this what one-room schools were like?!  

Anyway, I overheard Betsy instructing Lucy to “Count to 21, and DON’T PEEK!” Neither of which Lu is even remotely capable of, in the case of the former because she is her mother’s daughter, and the latter, because she is her father’s daughter. 

In completely unrelated news, Woody gave me his Christmas list yesterday.  

Lucy will be turning three next week.  How the years are flying.  I guess that’s it for now.  Sorry to be so late on this one.  I think I can guarantee to be the same on the next update.  You all take care!