Toy food

Today I reassembled the play kitchen and Alexander has been in little boy heaven. He insisted on bringing a toy pot—with a lid—to the table for lunch and communicated—loud and clear—that his lunch was to go inside. He took the lid off for every bite he took and replaced it while he chewed and was obviously very proud of his lunchtime routine.

He was less happy when I told him we needed to put his pot into the dishwasher (since it was covered in cucumber slime, peanut butter, and strawberry jam).

"No, Momma!" he protested, clutching the pot to his chest. "Toy! TOY!"

In the end I convinced him to allow me to pry it from his fingers and I lugged him upstairs for nap time.

"No, Momma! Play! Toy! Food! Play! Toy! Food!" he cried.

In the end I managed to get him down for a nap.

He beat me upstairs when we came home from back-to-school shopping (after two years of not having to buy any supplies for our children, we suffered a bit of some sticker shock buying supplies for three children, but it was a decent trade-off for the emotional high of buying new school supplies (is there any better feeling?)) so by the time I made it up there he was already involved in cooking up some delicious pretend thing in his room.

One of his favourite things is putting these plastic ice cream cones on the stove burners because the stove burners light up when you turn them on, which illuminates the ice cream cones, and he seems to think that's pretty neat. He also made himself a little sandwich—with a hamburger bun, a hamburger, a plate, a slice of cheese, and a chip (in that order)—which he pretended to eat with much gusto.

Anyway, you can imagine how he responded when I told him it was time to get ready for bed, but after a whole lot of screaming about needing to play with his toy food, I managed to calm him down and get him into bed.

Hopefully tomorrow he'll want to play with his toy kitchen again! It's been rather nice to have him play on his own a little bit!

The Laundry Room

Our washing machine weighs 200 (and one!) pounds and this evening Andrew, Rachel, and I managed to lift it up and set it on its pedestal. This was no easy feat, but now our washer and dryer finally match, and our appliance saga should be over (because in addition to delivering our appliances and not installing them, and then having to hire a plumber to get our kitchen up to code so a new dishwasher could be installed, one of our pedestals arrived with a cracked clamp so we had to mail it back and instead of sending us a replacement they issued a refund and we had to reorder and...it's been an ordeal).

Hopefully with the washing machine up a little higher I'll be able to see whether or not there's already a load inside!

I'm not sure I wrote about this on the blog (though I know I wrote about it on Facebook).

Keeping up with the laundry (and regular life, in general) has been difficult on top of trying to unpack and organize our home and set up our life here. One day I carefully sorted out a load of whites and threw it into the washing machine, which I assumed was vacant. When our washing machine sang its cheery tune ("Die Forelle" by Schubert) I opened the door, reached in and grabbed a handful of soggy...darks?!


Had I washed a load of darks instead of the whites I so distinctly remembered doing? Had someone else switched the whites to the dryer and started another load? Had I put the whites in the dryer?

I opened the dryer and found it was empty so I flung my handful of clothes inside and reached in for another handful. More darks? I squatted down and started pulling more and more darks out: a pair of jeans, some red pyjama bottoms, a multitude of socks. Basically things that I would never dream of throwing in with a load of whites, which I was sure is what I had prepared to wash!

And then I spotted it—a flash of white!

I pulled out Andrew's Sunday shirt (and more and more whites).

Sure enough, this poor washing machine was very full because I had not noticed that it was already occupied when I went to start my load. Andrew had started a load of darks the previous day and had forgotten to finish it, so I washed a load of whites with the load of darks that he'd started.

You know what they say: too many launderers spoils the laundry!

Fortunately, nothing terrible seems to have happened to those intermingling clothes, so perhaps my non-sorting friends have a point: sorting laundry is simply a time-wasting ploy.

But I'm probably going to keep doing it...

Our house has been christened

Andrew left me home alone with the kids for one day and everything fell apart. We moved here for his work, so naturally I knew he would have to start heading into, you know, work sometime. But I also expected to hold things together a little better at home.

After all, I'm the stay-at-home parent. Holding down the fort is is what I do.

But, on his very first day heading into campus I started sending him text messages detailing the ever-increasing chaos in our home and begging him for details on when, exactly, he was planning on coming home because...hello.

Benjamin was off the walls this morning. He wanted to ride his scooter, he found his little gemstone smash kit and wanted to excavate those on the front walkway, he wanted more breakfast, he got dressed and cleaned his room with a tornado of energy, he thundered around the house—stomping his feet and fighting with his siblings and demanding attention and things. He asked me when I was going to buy him a motorcycle (answer: never (buy your own motorcycle)). He had to be reminded to not jump on the couch.

Every time I got after him about anything he'd suddenly collapse on the floor and say, "But my tummy hurts!"

And I'd say, "Whatever, dude. You were just jumping on the couch. Knock it off."

"But really my tummy hurts!" he'd insist.

Nightmare nights

I've decided that one thing that is slowing me down on this whole unpacking and getting settled business is...Alexander. When he's awake he's getting into things or demanding to nurse. When he's asleep he's only ever asleep for maybe two hours at the most.

Yesterday he woke up at 7:30 in the morning (and I made Andrew get up with him because it had been a long night (if only I knew how long the night might have been)). He took a two-minute car nap on the way home from grocery shopping and then maybe a fifteen minute nap in the afternoon. And then he did not fall asleep in the evening until 11:20! 

Phew! I thought. At least he's down for a while.

Oh, no. He was up again at midnight. 

And then he was knocking on my bedroom door around 1:00 in the morning. 

And he did not fall back asleep until after 5:00 in the morning (after I let him scream in his room all alone for several minutes and then opened his door and told him that he was welcome to sleep in my bed if he was quiet and still—otherwise he was going to be stuck in his own bed by himself because Momma was tired (he had been in our bed jumping around and smacking us for the past few hours and I was so done with that)). 

We had to get up for church at 7:30 this morning. I had roughly declared (at 5:30 in the morning when we were finally settling down for the night) that Alexander and I would not be making it to church, so Andrew rolled out of bed at 7:30 to wake the other kids. Alexander woke up at 8:00, anyway, so we rushed to get ready for church—because if he was going to be awake we may as well be at church, right?

He made it through sacrament meeting until Zoë needed to run to the potty, and when I took her out he completely lost his head. He was screaming and crying and Andrew quickly rushed him into the hallway where they spent the remainder of the meeting. And then Andrew drove Alexander and me home so we could take a nap. 

Alexander quickly settled down for a nap of his usual length: 1 hour. 

I had been hoping for more, but that's all we got. So it's a good thing we went home to nap!

Quite frankly, I don't know Alexander is functioning because I am hardly able to function myself. Andrew, of course, is also tired, but he's also not nursing the baby all night so...he's perhaps a little less tired. If Alexander doesn't watch it he's going to find himself weaned soon (which, let's be honest, he probably will find himself weaned soon anyway). 

But, yes, I think that's contributing to how long it's taking us to get things organized...

Rachel is 12!

Five foot two, eyes of blue! But what those five feet can do! Has anybody seen my girl?

I have to sing that to Rachel while I still can because I'm afraid she's not going to be 5'2" much longer, not at the rate she's growing.

The poor thing had a rather boring birthday. We puttered around the house—still trying to get unpacked and organized—and made cupcakes together. She and Miriam made the cupcakes, to be precise. I made little waffles to go on top, along with maple frosting.

Rachel's been enjoying Stranger Things, a show that I think is just so scary that I didn't want to let her watch it. But her friend Elle (yes, Elle) was watching it and Andrew convinced me she could handle it and, you know, she hasn't even really gotten scared. Like, there are nights I lie in bed awake after watching that show with Andrew (feeling really bitter that he's able to sleep and I'm not). But Rachel's not like that. She actually enjoys scary shows.

Anyway, in the show, El's favourite food is waffles (specifically Eggos). I found a cute little cupcake idea that used mini Eggo waffles as a decoration on top but we couldn't find mini Eggos so Andrew thought we could just cut the big Eggos into quarters and use those pieces, but I wasn't sure it would work so well. So instead I broke out Karen's old waffle cone maker and made itty-bitty waffles to put on top of the cupcakes and that worked just fine.

We wanted to keep things simple because our house is still not set up and therefore I'm not equipped (with time or supplies) to pull off an elaborate cake. Andrew, however, managed to find all the supplies he needed to make an elaborate dinner. He made Rachel spicy cashew chicken, his own little copycat recipe from our favourite Thai restaurant in Cairo. The kids have grown up thinking this meal is a special treat because for years he would make it for me on my birthday and for our anniversary. So now they request it for their special meals, too. Which, I mean, isn't exactly a bad deal for me because it was my favourite first.

Here's Rachel waiting for dinner:

Conrad Reunion (June 27)

My cousin Heather emailed me sometime in April to say she'd be coming to town (with her new husband and children) the last week of June, wondering if I'd be around.

"Just barely..." I responded.

Somehow she missed the news that we were getting ready to move to Georgia, but all the stars aligned and we were able to get together the day before we moved. My mom rented a pavilion at a park and we had a lovely family pot luck dinner. It ended up being a spur-of-the-moment reunion, which was so fun!

All of my mom's siblings were there—her sisters came in from California and Alberta, and her brother is local, so he was there, too! It's been a few years since they've all gotten together (I think the last time was when we were visiting the summer after Zoë was born). 

It was so great to see everyone...and also a little sad because it was the day before we were due to take off and I was realizing how much I would be missing out on. Or, at least, potentially missing out on.

We all took turns lamenting that we "never get together enough!" 

And, frankly, that's true! We never do! It seems to always take a special event to pull everyone together: a wedding, a funeral, or a far-away cousin coming into town for a visit. So isn't it nice for certain cousins to spread their wings and fly far enough away that when they return for a visit everyone gets excited and gathers together?

We're taking one for the team in that department, I guess. The next time we come into town we'll probably see more of everybody than everybody usually sees of each other.

Anyway, I didn't take many pictures of the event (I was too busy trying to talk to everyone), but I did eventually give the camera to Andrew and he took a few.

Here's Josie with Alexander. She was excited that he walked up to her and asked to be picked up (and then trailed her for the entire evening, begging her to play), but a little sad, too, because he would pick the day before we moved to be the day that he decided he liked Auntie Josie!

All set

Andrew and the big kids left the house at 7:30, arriving at the county health office at 7:45. There were already a good 30 families in line before them and the office wasn't due to open until 8:00.

It's noon and they just got home. But they survived and $135 later, we are now able to register our children for school.

When I look at form 3300, it looks like a fine idea to me. I think it's wonderful that they (the government of Georgia) want each child to meet a baseline of health (and to be referred to specialists if they don't). I thought that having the form filled out would be easy, until I realized that it had to be done by a Georgia-licensed professional. And therein lies the rub.

Such a mandate—along with the 30-day time limit—puts an undue burden on families (considering the mandate only affects families moving from out of state, who already have a plethora of other things to worry about, not the least of which is that insurance often takes awhile to kick in) and on healthcare professionals within the state (considering I was unable to book an appointment at a pediatrician's office within the 30-day limit and the multiple times the county health clinic told me they were, to put it lightly, swamped).

I don't propose eliminating the form (because, as I mentioned, I think it's a good idea to have a standard of health for children attending public schools (and for children, in general), though I feel that access such a thing (good health in the best of circumstances, and access to health care in the worst of circumstances) should be a right, not a privilege).

I do, however, think that they need to begin accepting out-of-state documentation (which really isn't that complicated to read, trust me (I'm no medical professional and yet I seem to be able to read medical files from multiple states (yea, verily, multiple countries) without too much difficulty (except for when they're in Arabic and then I admittedly struggle a little bit, but even when I presented Egyptian documents to Utah officials they were able to figure stuff out and North Carolina officials also seemed to think that was interesting and figured stuff out...just saying))).

Had I been able to have my previous pediatrician give my children a mark of good health on the paper, it would have eliminated a whole lot of struggle for our family and would have freed up time at the county health clinic for people who actually needed to be there.

Sassafras assassin frass

There's a cabinet above our sink that I'm really not sure has been used for anything. It's...high. Like, really high. Unreachably high. But I figured it would be great for storing something seasonal like mugs or cake pans shaped like Christmas trees.

I climbed up on a stool so I could take a look inside. Some of our cupboards have been pretty clean inside while others have been downright nasty and I wanted to make sure this one was on the clean side before I started shoving stuff up there.

It didn't have the well-used look other cupboards had—with scratches from pots being dragged in and out, rounded-out edges from years of hands flicking the cabinet door open, crumb trails—in fact it looked fairly pristine...aside from a generous smattering of tiny poop pellets.

They didn't look like mouse droppings; they were far too small. I'm pretty good at identifying mouse droppings. Not, like, great, but, like, pretty good.

Mouse droppings are quite easy to recognize (especially after Trina told me that story about her sister thinking the mouse droppings in the Grape-Nuts were chocolate Grape-Nuts and that she was winning life because her bowl was sprinkled with chocolate Grape-Nuts). Mouse droppings look like chocolate Grape-Nuts.

These droppings were much smaller than Grape-Nuts.

So I stood there, on a stool in my kitchen, thinking about what kind of creature would leave behind stools such as these. Something small. Tiny, even.

And then it dawned on me that I had seen such remains before, in the upstairs bathroom (underneath a cellar spider's web), so I shined my flashlight up in the corner of the cabinet and found...a great, big cellar spider!

Even a great, big cellar spider is still a teeny, tiny creature—one that would leave behind teeny, tiny globs of frass, if, in fact, spiders even pooped. That was my next question: do spiders even poop?

They do!

I simply had never realized (or thought about) it, but I guess that makes sense because...Everyone Poops.

So I was explaining this over dinner the other night and Andrew exclaimed, "Is that what that is?! Because I've been finding similar droppings inside the electrical boxes as I've been changing out our sockets and was imagining...very small mice!"

Nope! Not very small mice (thank goodness), just great big spiders, leaving their frass wherever they please. Our discussion about arachnid frass led to some interesting dinner time conversation, culminating in Rachel telling this joke: What is a murderer with two butts called? An assassin.

And we just about died.

And Rachel started tooting while she was laughing (because she is a loosey-goosey when it comes to flatulence), so Miriam called her "sassafras."

And then we just kept going with sassy-frassy words until we could hardly breathe.

Sassafras, arachnid frass, assassin gas, fashion class! 

I'm annoyed: the story of Form 3300 and 3231

There is a medical form that I have to fill out within the next 21 days or my children will not be permitted to attend school. Unfortunately, our insurance doesn't kick in until August. So going to the doctor would be hundreds of dollars. We can't even just have our Utah clinic fill it out because it has to be filled out by a Georgia-licensed professional.

We had our records faxed to a new pediatrician's office here, but they don't have any openings for well-child visits until the end of September. They could squeeze me in on July 29th, but again...our insurance doesn't kick in until the beginning of August so that would cost us hundreds of dollars out of pocket.

I found another pediatrician who had openings on August 5 (which is the first day of school), but their receptionist called back to refer me to another pediatrician who sees children "as young" as mine. The odd thing is, I hadn't even told her about Alexander or Zoë. She was talking about Benjamin. And I'm not sure that their office should then advertise themselves as offering pediatric care because...hello.

Anyway, they don't want to see us. And Rachel wasn't too keen about missing the first day of school, anyway.

So I thought to myself, fine. Whatever. I can just have my dentist/school nurse/pediatrician fill this form out piecemeal. Fax it to the dentist...oh, wait. It has to be completed by a Georgia-licensed professional, so that won't work.

We can do it at the county health office, but they charge for every little thing they do. For example, it's $10 to transfer our immunization records from Utah letterhead to Georgia letterhead (per child). So that's $30 right there. Then it's $15 for a vision screening (per child), $15 for a dental screening (per child), but they said they will accept the letter I asked our dentist to write explaining that my children's teeth are healthy (because they would not accept evidence of routine check-ups as sufficient evidence of healthy teeth) so that means we don't have to do the dental exam. Oh, but it will cost $4 (per child) to have the nurse check a box on a form so all the work I did to get the dentist to fax the correct information to the correct fax number saved me a grand total of $6 per child.

They don't even say how much it will cost to do the general health and nutrition screening, but I'm assuming—probably incorrectly—that it will cost nothing because I had our pediatrician fax over our well-child checks.

And I'm just so annoyed.

Ants! Ants! Ants! Ants! Marching up and down again!

Ants are still invading our kitchen. They seem to really enjoy empty yogurt containers, the dregs of orange juice, and pancake batter and I have to wonder...did the previous owners never eat yogurt or drink orange juice or spill pancake batter and miss wiping up one little droplet? Or did they, too, have ants filing in and out of the windowsill at all hours of the day, hoping to find delectable droppings?

I honestly don't remember seeing any ants when we walked through the house. Nary a one.

And this family had dog and cat food just sitting out on their kitchen floor for the taking!

Surely ants like pet food!

Or perhaps they don't. Ants can be surprising sometimes.

This evening I was putting some green beans in the microwave and when I grabbed the lid for the dish I saw a few stray ants endlessly perambulating the circumference. I blew a couple off, flicked off another one, then shrugged and put the last few in the microwave along with the lid. Because surely they'd just be nuked in a flash, right?

Wrong!

I took the green beans out of the microwave and set them on the table and the ants, who'd seemed to have hunkered down for their merry-go-round ride in the microwave, got back up and started marching around the lid again.

We were all shocked. Apparently ants aren't microwavable.

We're planning on caulking around the window ledges (this helped in our Hummingbird Lane house) but I'm afraid we can only do that when we get a lull in traffic from that spot. It's ridiculously busy, but I suppose since Atlanta is infamous for its terrible traffic we shouldn't be too surprised by this.