Not now, Momma, I'm doin' my research.

A long time ago I found these clipboards at Walmart that open up and have storage inside for writing stuff. I decided to put some paper, pencils and a little notebook in each for my kidlets to entertain themselves on our errands. I also wrote their names, address and phone number so that when they would use them they would inevitably talk about their address and phone. In no time they had it "rememborized" as they call it. (I love their little faux words.)

On one of our forays into the real world, I noticed that Birdman was very intent and quiet in the back of the van. He had out a library book and his notebook. I said, "Honey? What are you doing?"

"Not now, Momma, I'm doin' my research", he replied.

Not wanting to disturb the forward momentum of the science frontiers being formed in the backseat, I stayed quiet. He was back there working the entire trip, to the store and back.

Later, after we got home, I snuck back to his notebook and looked in to see what he was up too. Here's a scan of what I found. I LOVE the fact that he references his technical drawing in the text. Tee Hee!

In case you can't read it, it says:
a Huming Bird flaps its wings by using its muscles and by flaping its wings 25 times a second it lays an egg as small as a corter and a huming birds beak is long as 1 inch as you kan see below there is a picture below of a humingbird.

Second Grade starts TOMORROW!!

Little known fact about lefties

RocketMan was sort of an unknown in utero. We were told he had signs of a chromosomal disorder. The doctors recommended getting an amniocentesis. They warned us that the chromosomal disorder would kill him before he turned one and would give him severe physical and mental disabilities. Of course, I wanted nothing to do with an amino. There were two other people in there for goodness sakes!

Well, they were wrong. Luke was not born with a chromosomal disorder. After birth we were told he had excess fluid in the left hemisphere of his brain. The doctors said it might hydrocephalus and that he may need a shunt in his brain. Then they said he might have high level autistic tendencies.

What ended up happening was a ton of therapy from 9 months to 3 years old. He got speech, physical and occupational therapy until he turned 3 years old. He still has a few quirks but I'm convinced that early intervention gave me another boy with a brighter future.

He still has some speech issues that are very minor. For example, the hard K sound and the TH sound is difficult for him. Oh, and he's a leftie.


Here's the conversation I overheard in the bathroom as BirdMan and RocketMan are drying off from their showers and combing their hair while buck naked in front of the mirror.

RocketMan: "Could you give me that comb?"

BirdMan: "Yeah. Here 'ya go."

RocketMan: "Van Que"

BirdMan: "What? Van Que? You're supposed to say Thank You not Van Que. "

RocketMan: "Well that's how some people say it."

BirdMan: "Who?"

RocketMan (with all the authority in the world): "Left handed people"

BirdMan (incredulous): "What?"

RocketMan: "Left handed people say Van Que"

BirdMan: "No they don't"

RocketMan (getting upset now): "Yes they do. You just don't know."

BirdMan: "They don't say Van Que."

RocketMan (angry now): "Yes they do and since I'm the only person in the family who is left handed, then I should know. It is true. Pinkie Promise. Lefties say Van Que."

Birdman wrinkles up his nose in disbelief. However, you can tell that RocketMan's logical argument seems to have hit a nerve and BirdMan is now rethinking everything he knows about lefties.

Headlines

RocketMan lost his front tooth! Net fairy cash gain.. $2.25

GooseyGirl left the tooth fairy a diamond with RocketMan's tooth. She wrote a note to alert the Tooth Fairy, or "TF" as she refers to her, that she should take the diamond with her. GooseyGirl's note also asked the fairy to leave a message describing what she thought about the diamond.

GooseyGirl whispered to me, "Don't worry, Mommy. It isn't a REAL diamond." I was so relieved. I thought she'd taken one from that pile of random loose diamonds we keep in the drawer. :)

However, since the tooth fairy couldn't fit the diamond through the keyhole in the front door, she ended up dropping it on her way out. GooseyGirl thought that perhaps one of the cats scared the fairy. Oh, and no note was left from "TF". I think it was just so late that "TF" wanted to leave the cash and scurry off to bed. "TF"'s got a day job, after all.




BirdMan and GooseyGirl each caught a large mouth bass in the neighborhood fishing pond. GooseyGirl's was a foot long! Lilly, our dog, loves to go fishing and barks with delight at every cast, every catch, every splash, every worm and every bobber. Between the kids screaming and the dog barking, I'm guessing the neighbor who owns the pond thinks we are a VERY loud family.

Yogi, our kitty, continues to gets plenty of lovin'. We're still not sure if he appreciates it, though. It is a wonder that he still knows how to walk. He gets carried everywhere he goes and with that belly, my kids are bench pressing some serious weight.

Mommy, what should we name him?

Meet Mr. Kitty the cat




and Snowy the snow leopard



and Miss Lamby the... um... well, lamb.




Notice a pattern yet?

I just love the "inventive" names they give the critters around them. The frog they found in the creek? His name was Hopper. The butterfly we raised from a caterpillar? Her name was flutter.

The innocence that is reflected in these names gives my heart a little smile every time I encounter them.

I recently had the opportunity to name a cute little carolina wren who sings on the deck outside my bedroom window every morning.
I enjoy watching him and my kids asked me what his name was. I decided James was a good name in reference to the Carolina singer, James Taylor. My kidlets thought that name was completely uncreative and extremely lame. In their eyes it was yet another example of how weird and out of touch I am.

A few minutes later a tufted titmouse landed on the deck with James. (Yes, there is actually a bird with the unfortunate common name of titmouse.)

GooseyGirl saw the bird land and squealed, "Look Mommy, a titmouse! What should we name him?"

Her little brow furrowed as she summoned up all of her seven year old creativity for the task of naming our new bird friend.

"I know", she said, "Let's call him Titty!"

I'm REALLY hoping she forgets about it before we have company over and she decides to introduce them to Titty the Titmouse.


*** while searching for a jpeg of a tufted titmouse on google I came across this HILARIOUS picture- don't click if you are easily offended- you've been warned! Bwah ha ha ha ha!!
http://anekdota.dyndns.org/jotd24/att-0282/01-TitMouse.jpg

Fisherville Academy Website

I get a bunch of questions about our curriculum and our approach to homeschooling. I've put together a website to help answer those questions. I've got information on our approach and links to sources for our books.

Fisherville Academy Website

Bath Time

There are certain chores of motherhood that I don't mind like laundry, cooking and crafts. There are other chores that I hate and have hated from the beginning. The worst? Giving my children a bath.

I'm not sure exactly why this aspect of care is so unappealing to me. It might be because RocketMan used to scream bloody murder the ENTIRE time you bathed him. We're talking top of the lungs, beet-red-screaming-agony. He has Sensory Integration Dysfunction and did not like having drops of water touch his skin. The feeling of fingers rubbing his head with shampoo sent him over the edge.

When my kids were little my Aunt Betty would come over once a week and give all three babies a bath. She was such a blessing. We used to call her "The Bath Lady" and I'd shout with joy every Tuesday when she arrived at my doorstep.

She could focus on one little body at a time and she would coo over them while she was soaping them up. When she left I would nuzzle their little heads, drink in the Johnson & Johnson scent of cleanliness and say a little prayer of thanksgiving that I wasn't the one who had to scrub them clean.

She bathed them for the first two years of life. I am forever grateful that she did that for me and now I'm just as glad that they can finally wash themselves. That is, until BirdMan's broken foot incident. Now I have to somehow saran wrap his leg and hang it out of the tub to keep it dry while I get to his curly locks without breaking my own back.

It would be so much easier to do it the redneck way. Just throw them outside during a rain storm and don't let them in until they are soaked!

That's the picture you see of my three in the rain, washing the redneck way, before BirdMan broke his foot. When I suggested that they go outside in the rain and get drenched, they looked at me like I'd finally lost my mind. They kept saying, "Are you crazy? You want us to go out in the rain?", and then their eyes started to twinkle, "We can? Really? Pinkie promise?"


They decided to get on their bathing suits on and their goggles. Then they danced in the rain and splashed in the mud. They were remarkably clean when they came back inside and I think a few memories were made as well.

Redneck bath time? Check!

It was the growth plate...

If you missed the post this morning, you haven't heard about our eventful weekend.
Well, BirdMan's growth plate on his right foot is fractured. The orthapedist doesn't think he will need a screw put in but they are going to do more x-rays in two weeks to determine that.

He got a red cast and the doctor said, "No boating, no swimming, no sweating."
Which means... no camping. We were supposed to go camping this weekend and Shawn was REALLY looking forward to it. As in... looking forward to it for the past 7 years. DH is still trying to process that camping is now out. I got Shawn to say, "Well, we'll think about it." That is as far as he let his brain go down that path. He needs a little more time to adjust to the idea.

BirdMan's Owie

My kidlets went to a neighbor's house over the weekend and got hurt on the trampoline.

We are headed to the pediatric orthapedist this afternoon. They think BirdMan may have fractured a growth plate in his foot. He is in pain and won't put weight on the foot. I'm supposed to take his xray with us to his appointment since the urgent care center that we went to yesterday wouldn't have a radiologist read it until tomorrow.

I'm not sure what they'll do but hopefully they can take some of his pain away.

Brother and sister are helping him get up and down the stairs. They are fetching his furry blankie and his Mr. Kitty when he asks. Both are quite worried about their brother.

Think of BirdMan this afternoon and I'll post later what the doctor says.

The first caller wins!

RocketMan gets literally giddy when we talk about numbers. He adores math and perks up whenever numbers enter a conversation. He also likes maps. His two favorite books are the Rand McNally atlas and a book of world flags.

I know what you are thinking, but I have checked the hospital blood records. He is, indeed, related to me.

Yesterday on the way home we were listening to the Library's radio station and they had a prize to give away.

The DJ said, "The first person to call with the answer to this trivia question will win the prize. Okay, here's the question. What is the name of the African city where the Blue Nile and the White Nile meet? Need a clue? It is the capital of Sudan."

From the back seat RocketMan's little voice pipes up....
"Khartoum!"

I tried to call the prize line for the radio station but between trying to drive and dial, I couldn't remember the phone number so I didn't get through (I should have asked RocketMan). Some other chick won but I'm quite sure she wasn't 7 years old!

RocketMan's big news for today is that he is going to the doctor to get the wart on his foot frozen off. Believe it or not, in this modern age, the preferred method of treatment for a wart on the foot is duct tape. Yep, duct tape and no, our pediatrician isn't "Tim the Toolman Taylor". He does have a medical degree.

The instructions are to cover the foot wart with duct tape for 12 weeks. The duct tape should smother the disgusting stuff inside the wart that is making it prosper. In fact, our pediatrician won't even take an appointment for a wart until you've completed the duct tape methodology.

Unfortunately, it is twelve weeks later and RocketMan still has the wart on the bottom of his foot. It has gotten bigger and more painful. The duct tape method did, however, work on GooseyGirl. Aren't you glad you know about this icky skeletons in our proverbial closet?

Anyway, RocketMan has told this little tidbit of grossness to everyone he has met in the past three days using as many descriptive details as possible. You should have seen the librarian's face. And they say homeschoolers aren't socialized!

Young Love

Ahh, young love...

The stares full of longing.
The soft nudges.
The head-bobbing.
The regurgitation.

Apparently, Apollo, our new baby parrot, is in love with me.

How do I know?

When I touch him he brings up his lunch for me to feast upon.

At first I mistook his advances as a sickness. With all the men I've dated in the past, barfing has never been a good sign. However, in the bird world, it has much more romantic connotations. I just hope he doesn't expect me to reciprocate.

I suppose it is akin to a poodle humping my leg or a cat dropping a half dead mouse at my feet in the middle of the living room. (ahem, hypothetically speaking of course. Well, if you must know, I seem to attract a certain "advances" from the Animal Kingdom.) I'm so glad humans prefer flowers, chocolates and insipid poetry.

Keep your eye out for me. I'm the one with the barfing, diaper-clad parrot on her shoulder.

*sigh* How in the world did I get here? This was supposed to be BirdMan's bird.

School's out!

School's out for summer! We wrapped up First Grade last week and decided to have a celebratory dinner at the local Japanese restaurant. Of course, the cooking show is just as impressive as the meal and since the kids have been to the restaurant before, there shouldn't be any misunderstandings like last time.

You see, the first time we took the kidlets to Shogun, the Japanese restaurant, we neglected to fully prepare them for the theatrics that goes along with the meal. We did tell them about safety issues involved with the huge piece of burning hot metal within arm reach of their chair. We had even warned them that the chef would be juggling knives. Those two facts alone had induced a tiny bit of fear and trepidation with this new dining experience. I noticed they were a bit leery as the chef approached our table.

He was very friendly and smiled broadly at the kids asking them their names and confirming their orders. He turned on the overhead fan and the show was set to start. RocketMan watched as the chef picked up what looked like a ketchup bottle. It was red with a pointy cap. What else would a young boy think besides ketchup? He certainly wouldn't think it was flammable.

The chef poured out the "ketchup" onto the hot grill and lit it. An enormous fireball erupted at our table. RocketMan, sure that something had gone horribly wrong with the ketchup, dove under his chair. He was certain that death was upon him. After coaxing him out and assuring him that massive fireballs weren't going to appear again, he gladly sat and watched the rest of the cooking show from under my arm.

BirdMan, meanwhile, was in his element. He is our politician. He's never met a stranger and adores talking to everyone. Our chef was a captive audience and BirdMan took advantage of the situation. He started asking the chef about Japan. We had just finished a book that was set in Japan so he was interested in the culture and language of the country. It turns out the chef was from South America. However, he was willing to tell BirdMan what he knew and teach him some Japanese phrases.

The two of them really hit it off. BirdMan was yakking away with our chef about the book we'd just read and about Mount Fuji. The chef asked him questions and provided the answers if BirdMan didn't know about some element of Japanese culture. After a while they seemed to run out of conversational fodder and a large pregnant silence fell over the table as the chef continued to work.

I could tell BirdMan was searching for something further to discuss with our chef and I watched as his eyes sparkled when he hit upon his idea. He looked up at our South American Japanese chef and asked, "Have you always wanted to be... a Japanese person?"

I felt like I'd been knocked backwards.

The chef politely smiled and told him that he didn't want to be Japanese, he just liked to cook their food.

I told BirdMan that it was time to be quiet and to let the chef work. (Note to self: Work on discretion with BirdMan).

Thankfully last week's trip to Shogun was uneventful. Our chef was very nice to the kids and even let them throw an egg into his hat. GooseyGirl completely missed the mark and the egg ended up splattering the floor behind the him. But then we have always known that baseball isn't going to be her sport.

Fisherville Academy is out for the summer. Second grade starts in August!