All Sorts of Out of Sorts.

 I've been sick. The wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-with-chills-and-aches sick. The throat-so-sore-you-can't-tell-if-you-are-drinking-water-or-shards-glass sick. 

Now I'm a terrible patient. And a terrible nurse. Conversely, Dan is a great patient who asks for nothing when he is sick and who will also do anything I ask plus think of extra things to do for me when I'm sick. It's why we are so good together.

When I'm sick, I never think to take medicine. I'm not a pill popper. Dan always has to bring medicine to me and remind me to take it. This time I feel like he gave me 32984729837 different medicines and didn't check if they go together or not. I have been downright loopy. Also I read in the Book of Mormon this past week where Amalickiah has Lehonti poisoned by degrees so that Amalickiah could become the king of the Lamanites. Coincidence? I think not. I brought this up to Dan, and his retort was, "But remember, Heather, what Amalickiah stood to gain by being the king. What kingdom am I inheriting if you die?" and motioned to the four hungry and squabbling children around us, the piles of laundry spilled over everywhere, and the general disarray of the house. 

He has a point. 

I'm on antibiotics now and feeling much better, but still somewhat foggy and dizzy and definitely super disorganized. I learned the acronym "EHAP" last year--Everything Has A Place--and despite my calling it out to my children in a range of tones--playful and sing-songy, sadly and full of sighs, irritated and saracastic, and then just downright frightening--no one seems to care about my awesome EHAP ideas. Things are out of order at the Jolley house. 

Now the photos:

I had to take photographic evidence of this amazing exchange between June and myself. June is in the process of being evaluated for vision therapy. As part of the extensive paperwork I filled out for her was the question: What behavioral problems does the child experience at home?

Now June is a great kid, but she is stubborn as all get out (obviously inherited from Dan's side of the family) and she will argue with you until you pass out. I have waved the white flag of surrender with that child more often than I care to admit.

So I wrote "Lots of arguing." June was sitting next to me reading her book while I was writing this all up and of course, she happened to look over and said, "What did you just write about me?" and then realized what I had written and got so upset and yelled, "I do NOT argue with you! I never do!" and then proceeded to take my pen and cross out what I had written. So then I wrote another note, pointing to what she had crossed out and explained my side of the story. 

I cannot make this stuff up.

We also hosted a laser tag party with our neighbors at our church building. I don't know what kinds of amazing pictures I was hoping to catch in the dark but here is the fabulous photo evidence of said event.

The End.

This is Wonderfully Weird.

I'm experiencing something very weird right now. The plan for today was the normal plan--drive 45 minutes to drop the girls at their fine arts co-op and entertain the boys for 3 and a halfish hours while we waited for their classes to be finished.

But the local school districts are out today for President's Day. Harris was invited to a friend's house. Dan worked from home and offered to keep Beck so that Beck could take his afternoon nap. 

I. Was. Free.

Now what kind of terrible thing is that to say? I mean I love my kids. I choose to homeschool them. But I have just sat at a coffee shop for the past couple of hours sipping my bottled water and have gone through my to-do list and crossed thing after thing off.

Tax return approved, emails sent, Relief Society assignments completed, forms filled out, play tickets bought, rental cars priced, homeschool science classes scheduled, etc. 

I feel alive! I feel like I could run a marathon. Or probably just drive one.

We had our annual Valentine's Day party. We exchanged valentines with my brother Mark's kids. As always, we sent them some crusty and falling apart valentines, and they sent us amazing and beautiful presents. Thank you, Shayla, for continuing this tradition with me year after year though I'm sure I give you zero incentive to.

Speaking of having a bit more time lately, I'm very pleased to announce that basketball and wrestling seasons are both over. For some reason, I love signing my kids up for things, but love it even more when they are canceled or finished. Why don't I just NOT sign us up to begin with? It's a deep question, and the answer is: I'm not okay upstairs.

Aren't my girlies so cute and affectionate in this little impromptu team photo. My favorite thing about this basketball league is that the team photo session consisted of a bunch of us parents aiming our cell phones at the girls and giving the ol' click. No picture forms, no $45 for the smallest package, nothing. My favorite. Our coaches were amazingly nice and helpful to my non-baller girls, but of course that didn't keep me from razzing them about their Eagles allegiance when the Chiefs beat them in the Super Bowl. Zing!

And I will leave you with the disturbing image with which I was met whilst exiting my bedroom one day. This is Gwen. I was quite startled. I gasped at the sight of her, and then she whispered, "I. Am. Death."

The End.

Things Were a Little Off.

We had a slightly "off" week. I took the girls to their fine arts co-op Monday and brought my laptop with me to get some work done while they were there. I then accidentally left the laptop at co-op when we went home. The co-op is 45 minutes from us. In order to get my computer back Tuesday, we had to skip a lot of our regular plans. So instead of the usual Tuesday stuff, we had a field trip day and saw a dairy farm near co-op.

Add baby cow to the list of animals June thinks we should own.

It was also a different week because of Groundhog Day. We celebrate every year with pancakes and watching Punxsutawney (that just might be the hardest word to spell in the history of the world) Phil make terrible predictions I don't agree with. And what's with the whole "shadow" business not happening? That may be what other groundhogs do but P-dawg picks a scroll. Even less scientific than that shadow biz. 

We only live 3 and a half hours from Punxsutawney, and every year I suggest to my kids that we actually go one year. I always think they will jump at the thought. But instead, they look at the people on TV who have been shivering for hours and would rather stay home. 

Another "off" thing was that Forest School was canceled this week due to crazy cold temps and high winds. So we cleaned the whole house and went to the library to play with the toys.

Something that wasn't "off" at all about this week but instead was just so special was attending the temple with some dear friends. One of the things I love about the church is that I am friends with so many women who are in a different life stage than I am. I took Grace, a freshman at college, and Marilyn, a women a few years older than I am, to the temple. Marilyn was baptized in December, and this was her first time. She was able to perform baptisms for the dead and also was able to have one of the young men in our ward be baptized for her husband who passed away a year ago. It was one of those experiences that puts all parts of my life into perspective--what is important, what doesn't matter, and how I want to spend my time.

 

And today, trying to get back to having nursing home visits be a part of the "on" schedule. We are striving to play for the residents one Sunday a month during lunch. Of course, one of my meetings after church ran late, and most of the residents had headed back to their rooms already. But we were able to play for a few of the men, and they were so kind and appreciative.

Harris started piano a few weeks ago, and I tried to get him to play something and he said NO WAY.

Church photo today:

I came home from the temple yesterday to find out that Beck had been sick all day and that Dan hadn't wanted me to know because he didn't want me to rush home. He had a hectic day of watching the girls play at their basketball game while also monitoring a sick Beck in the car (who didn't appear sick until they had arrived for the game). Poor Dan. So Beck stayed home today and Dan stayed with him. Another "off" thing but hopefully just for this week.

A funny Beck-ism from this morning: Dan, when Mom leaves can we watch movies?

Dan looked at me in horror as he exclaimed that he doesn't just let the kids watch movies as soon as I leave the house.

Sure Dan. Sure.

The Things Our Kids Say.

You may recall that when we parted last week, I left you with a sweet story of our youngest yelling out that he hated someone in our ward during the middle of the Sacrament.

Oh, those were sweet times. When I was still young and innocent.

My kids have said crazier things than that since last week.

Here is sweet Harris after he and Dan made their first, very simple model plane together. Harris is a middle child and also loves to tinker. In an effort to give him some more attention, Dan has decided to take him to Hobby Blobby once a month or so to pick out a new plane to build together. Look at that cute face with the finished product.

That sweet face also uttered these precious words to me one morning this week-

"Mom, I went pee in the potty, and then my glasses dropped into the toilet."

The grossest part about this is that I wasn't super duper fazed by this predicament. I am well-versed in grossness by now, and I don't think much of putting my hand in a plastic grocery bag and digging out a pair of expensive glasses.

I guess that's good that I don't let something that gross ruin my day, but also it means that my standards are rather low. Someone please step in if I stop using the plastic grocery bag when I go to retrieve things from the toilet in the future.

We went roller skating for the first time ever this week. There is always that one guy at every skating rink who you know is there every Friday night and every Saturday night and the all-day Sunday skate and does the limbo like he was born to, whizzes right past you skating backwards so close to you that you almost topple over, and taunts you with his powers to come to a sudden stop.

Even though my kids were struggling for the most part and Harris gave up after doing one single turn of the rink (even though the rink owner had actually stopped his wheels so that Harris was only walking), there was some real progress made too. Gwen had the hang of it by the end, and June, though moving slowly, entered the relay race and finished.

I take my job as a parent and educator seriously. This means teaching my kids about all of the fine composers. We listen to Dvorak and Vivaldi and others quite a bit. And Queen. This week, I introduced my kids to "Bohemian Rhapsody" and sang along every single word of the entire song to them, using all of the different voices and creating my own unique choreography as I went along. June teared up at the beginning, distraught by the storyline of a young man being tried for killing another man. I reassured her--don't worry, it's a fun song! You'll like it. Like it, she did not. She bawled through the whole thing. Another huge win for Mom.

Speaking of dark themes in songs, my kids memorize history sentences set to music every week to help them learn the history of the world. This week they learned an upbeat song about the French revolution that had the actual lyrics of "the aristocrats' heads were removed by the guillotine". Removed? It makes it sound like the aristocrats were getting rid of a pesky mole or something.

And maybe one more dark theme. We went to a book club meeting with Forest School this week. The book up for discussion this month was Mr. Popper's Penguins. I signed myself up to make a penguin-themed treat because I guess even knowing myself for 38 years isn't long enough to know that I don't make crafty things.

The Pinterest version of some Magical Penguin Cookies:

Heather's Scary Possessed Penguin-like Cookie-ish Creations:

There was chocolate everywhere--all over the eyeballs and beaks and feet. I told the kids we would have to relay to the book group that we had accidentally read the Halloween version of the book, the one where all of the penguins were massacred in the end.

See that cute Beck? The primary music leader in our ward recently told me that a cute little primary girl told the group that her dad sings church songs to her every night to help her fall asleep. Beck raised his hand, was called on, and then volunteered, "My dad doesn't like kids."

Here we are with our dear friend Sister Mellow, to whom our family ministers once a month or so. And yes, Harris is still wearing a tie over his t-shirts half of the time. 

The End.

We're moving at a slower pace.

December went at a pretty frantic pace. Grandma Sandy came into town for the girls' choir concert, and we did a bunch of Christmas-y things in Philly. 

We hosted four different large parties: a 30th birthday party for a girlfriend of mine, a progressive dinner with three other families, a homeschool Christmas party with 60 kids and 20 parents (not a typo--80 people at our house) and our annual Christmas Eve party with 41 people. It was all so much fun. I hope to do it all again next year.

I begged this perfectly delightful childhood photo of my friend Rachel and had 40 copies of it made in order to decorate for her birthday party.

We made over 100 cookies for kids to decorate at the homeschool Christmas party.

These pictures do not really paint the picture of how busy the house was during the party. It was CRAZY. But also incredibly fun.

I'm so glad I could capture one kid choking another in this photo.

But since the last party wrapped up, I went into a social coma. We have been just doing the basics, but doing them well, and it feels really good. I'm sure things will pick up soon, but as of right now we have been enjoying more quiet evenings at home.

We did enjoy a nature hike with Forest School this past Friday. We made bird feeders from pine cones and peanut butter afterward, but ours mysteriously disappeared (Dan threw them away).

Gwen up a tree. The branches were flimsy, and everything kept shaking. But I know my Gwen. She has to climb. She has to!
 

And the usual church photo:

Today at church, Beck chose a spectacularly quiet moment to shout out, "I don't like Sister So-And-So!!", who of course was sitting right in front of us. I clapped my hand over his mouth until he was good and quiet. But every time I took my hand off, he would scream it again. So I lugged him out of the chapel, and we ran into some good friends in the hallway. Hoping to redirect Beck's attention away from his latest pronouncements of hatred, I said, "Look Beck! The Cramers! Your friends! You love the Cramers!" And he really, truly does. They have lots of fun boys in their family. But of course Beck said, "They are not my friends! I do NOT like them!"

He is a treasure.

The End.

You Could Be a Farmer in Those Clothes.

Jolley Family, Sunday Morning, Winter-style.

As I write this post, June is wearing her favorite dog-onesie pajamas whilst also sporting her new dragon wings we bought from Goodwill and arguing with me about whether animals and snowmen should get baptized. "Animals are intelligent, MOM!" she yells in my ear as I try to type about really important things like our family heritage and legacy and also what we wore to church today.

Now she's talking about her latest reading of the Fudge series by Judy Blume. Gwen just asked me, "Mom, what can I do?" Harris is wearing his pajamas with his Sunday tie on top. He likes to wear a tie whenever he can, though he still claims to hate Sundays and church and primary. Beck is wreaking havoc in the toy room, but at least he's in the toy room and not IN. HERE.

We went to the farm show yesterday. The Farm Show is a Big Deal here in Pennsylvania. The first weekend we moved here, the Farm Show was going on and people at the hotel we were staying at thought we were in town from New Jersey for the Farm Show. Alas, we were not. I ventured to the show last year with a friend. But it was pretty tricky to do without Dan. So we waited for a Saturday trip to the Farm Show this year, and Dan came. It was cold, and we had to park far away and take a shuttle to the Farm Show Complex. 

(June and Gwen just marched into my room to let me know that they want to borrow their baby blessing dresses for a fake wedding they are planning between Beck and a toddler girl at church they want him to marry.)

The farm show was pretty fun. The kids loved the exhibits and the animals, and we bought the famous PA Dairymen's Association milkshakes. June cried that we made it to the calving corner too late and all of the calves had already been birthed.

I like living in a rural place. I'm not a really rural person, but I appreciate the people and their skills. I feel like a huge wimp around them.

We belong to a hiking group through one of our homeschooling co-ops. It's called "Forest School". During one of our recent romps through the woods, the Forest School leader asked if we would like to take a longer way back. I love walking and said sure. We walked for quite a long time, and I was happy to know that we were almost done because Beck had been more than done for quite awhile. We hit the 3-mile marker, and the leader let us know that we were halfway done.

Halfway? Wut.

The entire hike ended up being close to 7 miles. 7 miles is a lot for a three-year-old, and I had to lug him quite a bit at the end. Luckily, another mom named Jill decided to stay at the end with me and help me. I hardly even know Jill, but she was my angel that day. Just when I thought Beck couldn't possibly go any farther, we saw an old train caboose car. Beck found new energy and ran to the car and played and was able to finish the hike.

Speaking of trains, our neighbors Donna and Dave have invited us to come see their Christmas village train set-up three years in a row. It's a fabulous Christmas tradition for us.

Part of the tradition is having a big talk on the way over to their house about how we aren't going to touch anything while we are there, and the other big tradition is leaving early because one of the kids did, in fact, touch something. Donna and Dave are always nice about it, but it stresses me out because their train set is REALLY nice and takes them hours to set up every year.

And we are trying to be sporty again. The girls are playing basketball. Gwen is aggressive and gets in a little trouble for it. But she also switches from being aggressive to using the moves she has learned in dance classes to play defense. She will jazz hands that ball right away from you. 

June is the reason we signed up. Due to her small size and some of the challenges she faces, the league agreed to place her in a much younger group. Her coaches are saint-like and follow her around and remind her where to stand and what to do. Both girls are enjoying it.

And Harris is wrestling. Meaning, he attends wrestling practice. He likes learning the moves and being a part of the team. He LOVES wearing the wrestling t shirt and sweatshirt (even despite his intense hatred for long sleeves), but as far as actual wrestling goes, he struggles to apply what he has learned. He's only 5. He will get there. It's pretty funny seeing the much older kids on the team try to tear each other apart, whereas Harris just collapses to the ground the second his opponent comes close to him.

Harris is the third from the right, front row.

And a throwback. I forgot to post this picture of my crew ready for church Christmas morning. Dan had bought me a dreamy golden dress I was wearing for the occasion but alas, I took the photo and wasn't in it. My memoir shall be titled Woe is Me: A Mother Martyr, available wherever books are sold.

 

The End.

The End of An Era.

Last week marked the end of an era, but no, that era was not the end of my blog. It may seem that way from the past two years' lack of consistent writing. Previous to that, I was blogging every single week. But when we started homeschooling and I started serving in a busier role at church, blogging went out the window. That stops now. I am going to keep blogging. Yes, blogs are totally out of fashion now. But so am I. We're a perfect match of skinny jeans and blousy tops. I'm having a hard time jumping on the 90s fashion train.

The actual era to which I was referring was the death of Dan's 2000 Toyota Camry. Yes, you read that right. The year 2000. Things have been breaking on this car for years, and we would just power through it. The sweet nothings that my husband would whisper to me on my way to drive his car evolved to a shout of, "If the car won't start, jiggle the battery wires!" The following things were broken on the car:

Cracked windshield

Bad battery connectors 

Broken inside door handle on the driver side

Broken outside door handle on the passenger side

Cracked muffler that needed to be welded back together. This made the car sound SO LOUD. It was not-so-affectionately-known by our friends and neighbors as "The Hot Rod" because it would wake up the whole hood when Dan left in the morning.

Dan has been saying forever that we need to get a different car, but then car prices went up, and we decided to wait. 

I took a meal to someone on Christmas Eve in sub-zero temperatures. Somehow I was able to get into the car (that outside driver's side door handle was still okay), but when I arrived to the lady's house, I couldn't get out of the car. I went to roll down the window to open the handle from the outside (which I was so used to at that point and never thought about the absurdity anymore), but the window was frozen shut. So I climbed over to the passenger side to open that working handle, but the door was frozen shut.

Would this frozen 23-year old car parked in a dark, random parking lot on Christmas Eve be my demise? I had endured too much to go in such a way. Plus, I had 41 people back at my house waiting for me to come back before the kids would start the Nativity puppet show at the Christmas Eve party I was hosting. I had to bust out of the Hot Rod. 

I kicked and kicked until I got a door open. I delivered the dinner. I made it back home.

Soon thereafter, Dan received notice from a police officer that his car needed to go through inspection. We knew it would not pass and also didn't want to put a lot of money into fixing this car. It was time.

The day Dan went to a dealership to inquire after a car, the Hot Rod died in the middle of the road, only two blocks from our house. It was the alternator. Dan was proud that we had always said that we would drive it until it was dead, and then it died on the way to get a new car.

Oh did I mention that the hubcaps had fallen off? We are a classy bunch!

Dan got a new (not new, but Jolley-new) car. The Hot Rod was still eligible for a 2k trade-in despite its deadness because used cars are in such demand. It was a good day.

Let's not forget the many important events that happened in that car. Harris was almost born in that car. The Hot Rod took Dan took Dan to three different jobs in three different states--Florida, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania. Dan drove that car back and forth to Gainesville for his MBA. Thank you, Hot Rod, for transporting us and keeping us humble at the same time. I wish we still had it!! I honestly didn't care that it wasn't nice. Not-nice cars are kinda my jam.

Now, we just wait for the new car to be christened by vomit from one of the kids. Then it will really feel like our car.

The End.