Ingrown hairs

The first thing you need to know is that I pulled out an epic ingrown hair the other day. 

It wasn't the kind of ingrown hair that knows its confused and grows into a tight little spiral, having obviously been doing its best to find its way out—the kind that sort of sproings out of your skin triumphantly, being just as pleased as you are to have finally corrected its course. 

No, it wasn't that kind of ingrown hair. It wasn't sensible.

This particular ingrown hair was an ingrown hair that was suffering severely from the Dunning-Kruger effect, a "cognitive bias that describes the systematic tendency of people [or hairs] with low ability in a specific area to give overly positive assessments of their ability." 

Yes, this ingrown hair put undue confidence in its non-existent navigational skills. It was forging its own path, certain it was doing A+ work when really it was failing abysmally at the one job it has. 

This hair had grown about an inch long in a relatively straight line just under my skin...which rather explained the constant itching of my ankle that I hadn't been able to satisfy in recent history. 

So I took a pin and punctured my skin, looped the hair up, and tugged it out with tweezers. 

As one does. 

It was very satisfying. 

So I had to tell Andrew all about it when he came home and naturally had a rather nosy audience of bystanders (read: children) listen in as I related this tale. 

This raised some questions about what, precisely, an ingrown hair is. Before we could even explain it, though, Alexander said as if he had solved a great mystery, "Ah-ha! So that explains why I sometimes get hairs in my mouth."

We quickly disavowed him of that notion (that any hairs he found in his mouth were simply ingrown hairs from the top of his head that decided to sprout in his mouth instead of into the sunshine) and explained what ingrown hairs actually are. But...that's a pretty funny thought!

A special treat

 I think this makes the third post in a row that includes ice cream.

Phoebe had ice cream on the plane. 

We had ice cream at IKEA yesterday (which Phoebe threw up).

And now I'm going to write about ice cream again. Moving is wonderful. But also stressful. And it turns out that a little bit of ice cream really can help soothe raw emotions (particularly with preschoolers involved, but I am pretty sure that drowning sorrows in ice cream is a rather common trope). 

*****

Today was our first somewhat official day of school.

True, we just got here and are still getting over jet lag.

True, we're in temporary housing so will have to move again in a couple of months. 

True, I feel like just being here is a pretty big learning experience. 

But it's been a long and rather hectic summer and we really needed to build some structure into our days. 

It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's...an antelope!

Today was another day when we didn't have to set any alarms! There was no early morning swim practice because the oldest age group had their county competition today. Benjamin has his tomorrow afternoon. Zoë and Alex have theirs on Sunday. 

In addition to some small things like laundry and dishes and I meeting with my academic advisor and whatever else, I also finished cleaning out the chest freezer in the garage and listed it on the Buy Nothing Group. And I sent out the Hancock Hummer. And I finished writing (and submitted) my application essay for the Certificate in Interdisciplinary Qualitative Studies. And we went to the lawyer's office to sign a POA (power of attorney) for welling our house.

And I still have a million things on my list of things to do!

I also took a nap because we are trying to manage our stress levels. I'm doing okay so far. I can tell because I haven't even developed a twitch in my eye yet. Andrew, however, was silently thinking he was going blind for the past two weeks (but didn't want to talk about it because talking about it would make it real...so he went to the doctor while I had all the kids at the waterpark and the doctor suggested he go to the eye doctor...so he went to the eye doctor yesterday and they did all sorts of tests and determined that he has beautiful 20/20 vision, but might need reading glasses, and also that he's probably pretty stressed out so use eye drops and try to sleep more).

Here he is with his wacky eyes coming off of whatever dilation medication they used on him (apparently more solution went into one eye than the other so they de-dilated at different rates, which was pretty freaky looking):

Family calendar

I didn't make Andrew a calendar for Christmas. 

I think it was a combination of...I just didn't have time...and there wasn't a deal available. I thought about having a calendar ready to go so that when a deal became available I would be ready for it, but I also had about a million other things on my plate...so I didn't do that. 

And then last week a calendar deal popped up so I scrambled to quickly put together a calendar for 2026, just pulling some pictures from my camera roll in 2025. 

I gave it to Andrew as a late Christmas/early Valentine's Day gift and he took it to campus with him yesterday to hang up in his office. 

When he opened the package he said, "Let's see what family the calendar is for this year..." which felt a little rude. 

"Hey!" I said. "I know who we are!"

If you recall, last year I neglected to change the default text in the template I used so the front cover proclaimed "The Phillips Family" in bold letters. 

Embarrassing!

Here's Andrew laughing at me the calendar last year:

Nothing personal

While Rachel and Miriam have been "across the pond," we've been having a fine time here at home.

On Monday morning last week, Zoë came home from swim team practice and immediately began making cookies. She's determined to learn how to bake...and whipped up some delicious oatmeal raisin cookies...while wearing an apron over her still-damp swimming suit. 

It's dynamite!

Alexander told me a joke the other day. He made it up about a picture on the cover of the joke book we checked out of the library. It's not a joke in the book. He just made it up about the cover, which features a skateboarding dinosaur (or something like that—definitely a dinosaur, might not be skateboarding), proclaiming, "These jokes are dino-mite!"

"What do you call a dinosaur who might do something?" he asked me (when he was supposed to be brushing his teeth). 

"I don't know," I said.

"A dino-might!" he cackled. 

"That's hilarious!" I said. "...go brush your teeth."

So, chuckling, he walked away to brush his teeth. Approximately two minutes later he came back to me. 

"This is sort of a follow up to that last joke," he said timidly, but you've got to understand that when Alexander feels any sort of fluster or confusion or excitement, he starts hiccoughing basically between every syllable. And evidently he was either really excited about part two of his joke or he was nervous that it was now past the time when he was sent to bed (the punishment for which is...being reminded that it's time to get to bed...so pretty serious stuff...I'm going to go with "he was excited about his own cleverness"). 

"This—hic—is—hic—sorta—hic—a—follow—hic—up—hic—to—hic—to—hic—to—hic—that—hic—last—hic—joke!" 

"Go for it, buddy," I said. 

"Did it..." He waggled his eyes as he said this next part: "Blow. Your. Mind?"

And then he ran off to bed laughing his head off. It was a pretty good follow up joke, I have to say!

(If I were to workshop the first part I would suggest something like, "What do you call a dinosaur who maybe will, maybe won't?" But overall, two thumbs way, way up!)

Books and jokes and jokebooks

First of all, this is the only picture I took today (apparently):

Zoë had quite the sleep-in this morning. After she woke up I asked her why she was so tired and she sheepishly answered that she'd stayed up reading (somehow even after we confiscated her flashlight and gave her melatonin and...)

We did a lot of Saturday chores today (not that the house even looks like we did anything—but I assure you we were working like beavers) and when I brought a pile of books upstairs to put away on the shelf in the little girls' room and glanced at Zoë's bed, I had to laugh. 

She had been reading, indeed. 

(The hair you see in the picture is a doll, not a person...just so you know). 

Frogging and cabbage and goats...just the worst

There were two stories that I had in mine of me completely misunderstanding someone...but I can only remember one now. So you'll get that one and then you'll get the story of how we juggled vehicles this afternoon.

*****

On the way home from campus, having already had the burning truck experience, Rachel and I decided we'd also stop by Walmart to grab a skein of yarn she needed to finish up the temperature blanket she's been working on for two years now. She's just adding the border, but realized about halfway through that we didn't have enough white yarn to make it all the way around so she had to "frog it," a textile crafting term for when you have to "rip it, rip it, rip it" apart, and start over again with a new skein. 

Why a new skein? Because it can be very difficult to colour match across batches of yarn, so even though "white yarn" might seem like it should always be just...white...in fact there are variations across batches of white yarn. 

So she pulled out the border she'd begun earlier and has started again with a fresh, full skein...which we had to pick up from the store. Walmart is on our way home, so that's where we went.

It was 9:56 pm when we walked in the door, where we were met by a police man and a door greeter.

"This door closes at 10:00," the door greeter informed me.

I glanced at my watch. It was, as I mentioned, 9:56. 

"The store closes at 10:00?!" I said, with some degree of surprise because...I don't know...it just seems like Walmart keeps insane business hours. Some of them are open 24/7. "We'd better hurry!"

"This door," the greeter enunciated slowly, for my sake. "Not the store. You can still use the far door. It's open until 11:00."

"Oh," I said sheepishly. "Okay, thanks. We've got plenty time then, Rachel. Let's go find your yarn."

*****

Six Conversations from Facebook

In all honesty I am trying to move away from Facebook (Meta)...but it's just such a convenient place for storing little conversations throughout the day. So here are some conversations I've been storing up since the weekend...

1) While getting ready to head outside to play in the leftover snow (probably on Saturday or Sunday).

Phoebe: Will you put garbage bags on my feet?

Me: Sure. I can help you with that.

Phoebe (to Miriam): Are you putting garbage bags on?

Miriam: No. I am going to exercise self-restraint.

Phoebe: Oh. Well, I am not going to do that.

Me: I pretty much bank on you not doing that in any given situation, so...

Phoebe: And that's why I need garbage bags?

Me: And that's why you need garbage bags.

Our Best Year: The Phillips Family

Every year I make Andrew a new calendar of family memories to go in his office at work. I started a long time ago when we were young and poor grad students* (now we're old and middle class grad students*...so moving up in the world) and Shutterfly sent an offer for a free calendar. I still wait for those free offers and this year's offer happened to come right in the middle of finals week, basically. 

I was swamped with work, but I still managed to churn out a calendar for him. 

Were the pictures the most carefully curated? Not remotely, but my motto is that any picture printed out is better than no picture printed out. And I was pleased with myself for crossing one gift off of my long list of gifts to procure.

Then it arrived in the mail and I...noticed I made a huge mistake...but wrapped it up anyway...because what option did I have at that point?!

Andrew was already confused by the wrapping job. 

First Encounter with a Newspaper

 

The Georgia Writers Museum mailed Zoë a copy of the newspaper her story was printed in and she tore open the envelope with gusto. 

"What in the world!?" she exclaimed as she unfolded and unfolded and unfolded the paper. "This thing is huge!! Are ALL newspapers this large?"

"Looks about right," I said.

Fun fact! I used to have a paper route!

I took over from my brother when he started early morning seminary. I'd get up and fold newspapers and then ride around on my bike and deliver them around town in the wee hours of the morning. 

I gave it up when I started early morning seminary myself a couple of years later, but...yeah...I guess you could say I'm pretty familiar with the general dimensions of newsprint. 

"For real?!" she squealed. "I thought newspapers were like…magazine-size…or something. But no! Look at this thing! That actually makes a lot of sense…when you think about it."

"What does?" I asked.

Funny Phoebe (and other stories)

Admittedly, Phoebe is not always funny. 

Sometimes—not every day, but sometimes—she dumps out a full bottle of water onto a laptop. 

I've matured a lot as a parent (and as a person) since I started raising kids. And I just want to let the record show that I didn't even yell about the laptop (not really). I sat Phoebe in timeout and gave her a little lecture. And Zoë got a little lecture as well (since she's the one who gave Phoebe the water bottle in the first place). But I didn't even yell. 

I yelled at Benjamin through the window this evening—in full view of who knows how many neighbours—to "STOP HITTING YOUR BROTHER WITH THAT STICK RIGHT NOW OR YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET IT!" to which he responded, "I'm not hitting him hard..." to which I responded, "YOU'RE HITTING HIM ENOUGH AND I'M TELLING YOU TO STOP!"

And then when he had stopped hitting Alexander with the stick (or threatening to hit him or whatever was going on there) he refused to stop tormenting him, so I yelled, "HEY, BENJAMIN! I NEED YOU TO CLEAR SPIDERWEBS OFF THE HOUSE, LIKE NOW!"

Because clearing spiderwebs off the house is the same thing as regret, right?

Hosed etymology and other funny(?) things

Swimming has been rather all-encompassing this past month. Andrew remarked (quite humorously, in my opinion): "I had no idea swim team would involve so much swimming!" 

And it's true. There has been a lot of swimming. And a lot of driving kids to the pool (which, honestly, if they didn't have to cross 18 lanes of traffic between two very gnarly intersections, I'd let them ride their bikes to the pool...it's only 3 miles away...but unfortunately they'd have to cross eighteen lanes of traffic to do so. And, yes, there are traffic signals but I'm still just not sure how much I trust the traffic).

Anyway, tomorrow is our last meet (before county, which I doubt we'll qualify for) and the kids are very excited. They went to morning practice today, and then we stayed after to swim, and then we went to afternoon practice as well and Phoebe and I swam while they were practicing because they only use half the pool for the afternoon practice. 

Amazingly we've only had a couple of storms this entire month. It's been so dry. Humid. But dry. 

That's a thing, right?

We haven't had to cancel any swim practices or swim meets due to bad weather (knock on wood because it's supposed to storm a bit tomorrow), which feels...unusual for June. But we did have a good storm the other night when we decided we'd encourage Phoebe to stay in her own bed using a sticker chart.

9:00 PM

Me: …so if you stay in your bed all night, you can choose a sticker to put on your chart! Doesn’t that sound like fun?
Phoebe: Yes! I want a sticker!
Me: How do you get a sticker? Do you remember?
Phoebe: Stay in mine own bed!

1:30 AM

Phoebe: *tip-toes down hallway, knocks on door*
Andrew: What’s up, Phoebe?
Phoebe: I need help staying in my bed! I want a sticker!
Andrew: *tucks Phoebe back in, turns on some lullabies, sits with her until she falls asleep*

4:30 AM

Mother Nature: ⛈️⛈️⛈️
Phoebe: *runs down hall, busts through bedroom door*
Phoebe: THAT WAS THUNDER! I don’t want a sticker! I want you!
Mother Nature: ⛈️
Electricity: *goes out*
Phoebe: IT’S SO DARK!

Obviously mother nature was not on our side. And then she came in bed with us last night, too, claiming she could still hear the thunder from the previous night's storm. We'll see how tonight goes.

Anyway...no rain...plus a lot of kids swimming means that the water level in the pool has gone down a bit. Often rain will fill it up quite nicely. But today they had the hose on, filling the pool back up to the level it needs to be for the skimmer baskets and things to work properly. 

Phoebe thought the hose was great! It was about 98°F today and the pool was lukewarm, but the hose water was freezing (or felt comparatively so). She loved playing with it.

She stood around asking everyone who walked by, "Wanna get hosed?"

What it's like having teenagers

Being a mother to young children is relentless. They need you very first thing in the morning, all throughout the day, and into the night as well. Phoebe recently developed a little "chirp," where she says, "Mom. Mom. Mom," at just the right pitch to make my skin crawl. It's incessant. All. Day. Every. Day. 

Teenagers aren't like that so much. 

I can go hours without seeing my older girls. They host their own parties. They skip out on things they never used to skip out on (like trips to the library and swimming pool).

They are so capable. They do laundry. They cook. They keep up with their school work. 

Church stories

Weirdly, I have spent the last couple of weeks giving Benjamin tutorials on how to tie a...tie. 

I learned how to tie a tie when David was struggling to learn how to tie a tie (so probably when I was nine or ten). I also learned how to tie my shoes when he was struggling to learn to tie his shoes. 

I say struggle simply because learning is very often a struggle—it's something that requires curiosity and tenacity and humility. David was certainly all those things. Indeed, he was a clever and talented young man. And I was his little sister. 

So, suffering from what we'll call "Little Sister Complex," I worked extra hard to learn how to tie things properly extra early so that I could...brag about it to him. 

Sometimes I was a brat, believe it or not. 

I didn't have any particular reason to learn how to tie a tie, but I practiced and practiced just so I could do it quicker and better than David could (at least when he was a boy of 12). I don't know if he even noticed that I was competing with him, but I was. For whatever reason. Because, as I mentioned, I had no actual need to know how to tie a tie. 

Andrew has worn ties for years, though in high school he often wore one particular zipper tie. He didn't really start wearing "proper" ties until his mission. And he learned how to tie them, in his words, "wrong," because when he unties them, they don't nicely slip undone and instead wind up in a knot that he has to unpick before he can hang it up. 

He's happy—functional—with his abilities, but suggested that perhaps Benjamin should ask me for help learning how to tie ties so that he could learn the proper way. Could Andrew learn my way? Probably. There are many, many ways to tie a tie (I think I do the Windsor) and I don't think any of them are fundamentally wrong. But Andrew's happy with his way. 

He just thinks that Benjamin will take better care of his tie if he doesn't have to unknot it before hanging it up. And he's probably right about that. 

One inch

We've been discussing what we want to read and learn about this coming school year. The kids want to do some mythology stuff and Shakespeare was thrown out as well, so I thought a good place to start might be with The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. That would get us into both Shakespeare and would lend itself to studying the history and mythology of the Roman Empire. 

So I ordered some books for us to have on hand and a few of them came in today. Andrew opened the packages and brought them to me. One of the books surprised me. 

"Huh. This is shorter than I thought," I remarked. 

"So is Dad!" Rachel quipped. "He's only 5'11"!"

Andrew's jaw dropped—that girl's comedic timing is impeccable!—and he doubled over with laughter.

You see, he has always claimed to be 6 feet tall...but he's not! 

We were doing a family activity on human body ratios a while ago and we learned that typically your arm span is equal to your height from head to toe, so we measured everyone's arm span and Andrew's came up an inch short.

He was certain this would prove that his arms were, perhaps, a little on the short side, but when we measured everyone's height against the wall...he still came up as 5'11". 

He had us measure several times, but no matter which measuring tape we used, or who did the measuring, or how we measured...he was always 5 feet 11 inches. 

So we've been teasing him about this for several months now...and I'm not sure when we'll stop.

Some stories

Today's word count: only 464. But I entered this evening almost too exhausted to think and was having trouble putting thoughts together. So around 1:30 I went downstairs to get the sheets out of the dryer, only to discover that while I put the sheets into the dyer, I never turned the dryer on!

Why were the sheets in the dryer? Because I washed them, obviously. That's a good thing to do somewhat regularly (or so I hear), but we had a special reason for washing them today.

You see, Phoebe joined us in bed at some point in the night, as she usually does, and she was a little difficult to settle. And she kept squirming and sniffing. And I didn't think anything of it, really, beyond, "Why is she so sniffly?! She can't have a cold. We just got over the stomach flu!"

But, like, whatever. Kids pick up germs everywhere. If we had to have the sniffles, we'd get through that, too. If only she'd settle down and sleep!

Finally (after much nursing and squirming and sniffing), she fell asleep. 

And when I woke up in the morning I realized that she had not had the sniffles. Oh, no. She was suffering from a bloody nose. There was blood all over my pillow, all over the bed, all over her, all over...me. 

So the sheets had to be washed. 

But at least she doesn't have a cold, right?

Things we mispronounce: Biblical version

Yesterday we were reading Luke 17 and Alexander read verse 3: "Take heed to yourselves..."

Only he read "take heed to your sleeves." 

And that was funny.

But as luck would have it he also read verse 14: "And when he saw them, he said unto them, Go shew yourselves unto the priests."

Only he read "Go shew your sleeves unto the priests."

And that was funnier. 

And then Rachel was reading verse 27: "They did eat, they drank, they married wives, they were given in marriage, until the day that Noe entered into the ark, and the flood came, and destroyed them all."

But she said "flood" with a very strong ooo, like if you stuck an /l/ in the middle of "food," flood. Or like if you took the past tense of fly—"flew"—and made it double past tense -ed, "flewed" flood. Flooood!

And that was even funnier. 

And then I said, "Oh, nooo! The flooood! Save your sleeves!"

And that was funniest of all.

*****

So then we're reading the scriptures this evening (because we are nothing if not dedicated) and Alexander was reading Luke 18, verse 2. 

Things we mispronounce

Not to brag or anything, but my streak on Duolingo is so incredibly large that...I honestly have never quite noticed how streak freezes work. But my children who have made goals to keep their streak on Duolingo this year are acutely aware that if you use a streak freeze your streak does not break but it also doesn't count toward your number of days practiced. 

It just so happens that Alexander has an 85 day streak today...which means that Rachel has a streak of 84.

88 days have elapsed so far this year. But we didn't make our goals for this year until January 2 (for FHE) so Alexander and Rachel have only been working on their streaks for 87 days. Alexander has used two streak freezes this year. Rachel has used three and she is very bitter about it.

She also can't say it. 

Every time she tries to say "streak freeze" it comes out as "freak streeze."

And every time it's hilarious.

****

Cannoli, Monkeys, and Arma-darn-dillos

Andrew made cannoli last night. He fried them in coconut oil, but in order to access the coconut oil he needed to open a new container. Miriam brought it up from the basement but couldn't open it. I couldn't open. So Andrew sighed, washed his hands off (they were covered in dough), and then tried to open the container. He couldn't. 

I held the container while he twisted the lid...no action.

Finally, I sat on the floor and gripped the container with my feet and hands while Andrew twisted with all of his might and...we were in!

*****

After dinner when we were talking about all the work we went through to open that container of coconut oil—a story we had to share with Rachel, who is our resident jar-opener—Andrew said, "But, you know, it just makes sense that it would take us six limbs to open a jar of coconut oil because coconuts come from tropical places like jungles and monkeys live in jungles."

We all stared at Andrew waiting for him to continue this thought. 

He did not continue.

Instead he stared at the rest of us staring at him while he waited for us to "get" it.

We did not get anything.

Finally I said, "What do monkeys have to do with this?"

"Well, because they have six limbs."

"Do...do you...do you think monkeys have six limbs?"

"Don't they?"

"They do not. They have four."

"Are you sure?"

"They're not insects, Dad!" Rachel nearly screamed.