Today on the way home from school Little Missy exclaimed, “LACY!  Now I know where Lacy lives!”  Glee burst from her little body and smacked me in the back of the head.  I had no choice but to inquire.

Me: “How do you know where Lacy lives?”

Little Missy: “CUZ I JUST SAW HER COMING OUT OF HER HOUSE!!!”

Excitement, I tell you.

Once we got home, Little Missy immediately made a note with hearts across the top and it said something like this:

Dear Lacy,

I know where you live.

I love you.

Your secret admirer.

If she were a few years older that note would be totally creepy.  But now it’s just so stinking cute and funny.

THEN she made an envelope and sealed up the letter.  Here’s what the envelope says:

Hi-Lacy

theis is [this is]

your secict [your secret]

admire [admirer]

I love who Lacy. [I love you, Lacy]

She makes such a cute little stalker.

But you know, she comes by the stalker naturally.  The day before my first date with Hubby, my mom, sister and I went to the mall to pick out a cute new outfit for me.  Since Mr. Fox worked at B. Dalton, my mom and sister strolled through the store to spy on him.

The next night (maybe? I can’t remember exactly) I laughed and told him that my mom and sister had spied on him the night before.  But he totally knew.  Because my sister could not be discreet and stared at him around the corners of the bookshelves with her big ol’ eyes.

I’m guessing Little Missy’s attempt at Secret Admirer (Stalker) will not turn out too secret-y, either.

• Why not start things off with my column from two weeks ago, wherein I discuss the competition between me and my daughter.
• And then follow up with my nearly-stopped-wavering on the More Kids issue.  Because I think there is this spectrum, with Individual Attention for Each Kid at one end and My Alone Time/My Alone Time With My Husband at the other.  With each additional child something has to give.  You’re either going to take time away from one of your existing kids or you’re going to take time away from you and your spouse.  For our family, I think we’ve just about hit the right spot on the spectrum.
• I never dug her bits about beauty creams or fashion at the end of each Lucky issue, but I really like her bits now in blog form.  Makes no sense to me, either.  Anyway, one of my new favorite blogs.
• Bet you didn’t think of all these as you raise your kids.  Especially #3, to which my husband is a testament.  That boy is not oogied out by germs.  One time he told me that as a kid when his grandparents would make him wash up for dinner he’d think, Why?  Because, as his youngest brother pointed out on a different occasion, he’s pretty sure he rolled down hills of cow-poo as a kid and had the best time.  Hubby’s grandparents knew their farm held germs, and said germs should be washed away before dinner.  But Hubby didn’t adhere to that kind of pesky germs-cause-problems hoolabaloo.  AND my husband never gets sick.  Which is only a bit of hyperbole.  Because really, he does not get the flu or colds.  Maybe he’s sick once every couple of years?  Anyway, long paragraph to say that #3 in the above-linked Cracked column rings true with my husband.
• Finally, read this.  Then put away your computer/iPad/iPhone and take Heidi’s challenge to write some handwritten notes.

I have to say, this year we owned spring break.  We rocked that week.

My friend Abbie posted on her Facebook wall that she was excited to not have any plans, to just spend time with her kids and craft with them and let them play baseball outside for hours whenever the mood struck.  But I am not such a disciplined mommy.  If I don’t have something planned for us then pretty soon it’s the end of the day and we’ve watched TV all morning before I finally shoved them outside in the afternoon, with the bonus of bickering all day.  Plus with the forecast for rain all week, I knew we had to plan something.

So Saturday afternoon I sat down with them and we made a list of what we were going to do that week.  Monday: Exploration Place.  Tuesday: home.  Wednesday: Geo-caching.  Thursday: home.  Friday: Nana was in town.

Monday we went to EP and it was so much more a pleasant experience than it has been in years past.  Now Gideon and Mia aren’t running in two different directions.  They’re big enough to play by themselves as I corral Daphne.  They played at the water table with friends from school who happened to be there at the same time, they all played in the vet clinic, we watched model trains over and over and over again, then the big kids played in the Castle while I watched Daphne in the toddler area.

Tuesday was a little rough.  With the rain and all there was some bickering.  But Daddy took them and cousin Gabe for ice cream that night, then they all came back to our house and watched Hugo.

Wednesday we planned on geo-caching but it was too muddy from the rain.  We went to lunch with Nana, Auntie Leelee, Uncle Todd and his co-worker Kenton, then hung out at Uncle Todd’s office for a while, then went on a scavenger hunt.  Daddy sent us a list of things to find and we drove around town and took pictures in front of them.

Thursday was another home day, so Daddy sent them another scavenger hunt of stuff to find on our street.  Gideon and Mia took the camera outside and found everything on the list.  At first they were hesitant about going in people’s yards to take pictures, something about respecting people’s property, but they eventually made it far enough into their yards to hurriedly take the pictures before scurrying off.

Friday Nana was at our house and stayed with the kids while Hubby and I watched The Hunger Games.  Woot.

Saturday morning the kids and I went to Botanica.  They painted, made thumbprint artwork (courtesy of Paint the Towne), and completed a tulip scavenger hunt.  It was so much fun.  The day was sunny and gorgeous and I took beautiful pictures of my kids.  Then we went to lunch, met up with Daddy and tried our hand at geo-caching.  You guys, it was a big dud for us.  I think we need tips on how to locate the items.  Plus it didn’t help that at the first place we were looking next to a busy Wichita street and at the next place we looked very suspicious inspecting the bottom of a foot bridge.  My friend Mrs. Y said her husband and two of their boys found stuff in Augusta the first time they tried.  Maybe we’ll try something around here next.

And now my kids are back in school.  Boo.  Monday I really mourned the loss of spring break.  But Mia will be home with me the next two days because of kindergarten round-up, then the next week they’re off for Good Friday, then the next week they’re off for a teacher development day, and I really love that Augusta schools have a RIDICULOUS amount of days off.

I’ll try to post pictures soon, because blogs with pictures are always better than the ones without.

Tonight while leaving Taco Tico a minivan barreled into the stall about three or four down from our truck and out rushed–and I mean RUSHED–oodles of kids.  At first it made me think of a clown car, like, how many skinny teenagers can you fit into one Kia Sedona?  Then I realized they were a youth group on a mission, and almost as quickly as I said “NO” to my husband in anticipation of the youths’ question, they cornered him.  The request came spilling out of one boy’s mouth, as if he thought that asking it really fast would make us say yes.  Or maybe he was just crunched for time.  Or both.   “Uh, sir?  We’re on a scavenger hunt and can we take a picture with your baby?”  Shannon looked at me with his half-grimaced mouth, tilted his head and half-nodded back at them before grunting, “Sure,” followed by a quick, “Who has the strongest arms?  WHO IS NOT GOING TO DROP MY BABY?”  He muffled the sternness with a small laugh, but I knew better.  Some tall kid took Daphne, she looked at him with her half-open mouth and surprised face, they took the picture, said a million thank-yous, scrunched themselves back into that minivan and drove away.

On the way home Hubby said that Daphne kept that look of surprise on her face most of the way home, still unable to figure out what had just happened and why her parents had let her be held by some skinny kid with curly hair (I think the curly-haired kid is the one who held her.  It’s all a blur, really.).

About thirty minutes later I was in the kitchen while Hubby and Daphne were in the living room when someone knocked on our front door.  I ignored it, but they knocked again.  Hubby answered the door to another team of skinny teenagers.  “Uh, sir?  Do you have a dog?  And can we take the dog on a walk?  We’re on a scavenger hunt.”

Hubby saw the gang of energized youth, heard the word dog, said “Yeah” and headed toward the back of the house to get Molly before he’d even finished asking.  Hubby and I looked at each other as he walked by, smirked and raised our eyebrows.  Daphne made it to the front door to find the cause of the commotion.  One of them pointed at her and looked to someone in the back of the group, “Look!  A baby!”  As in: too bad we didn’t stop at this house first because we could have marked two items off the list at one time!  A baby and a dog in the SAME PHOTO!

Hubby opened the back door for Molly and she RAN to the front door.  Somehow she knew the people on our porch were going to be sweet to her, cuz she promptly laid on her back and let them rub her tummy as someone else took the picture.  Then the youth were off!

And whoever won needs to give us a cut of the prize because we did two groups a solid tonight.  I’m also hoping Daphne accidentally ended up in the corner of the picture with Molly and that an observant kid got extra points for noticing.

I watch an adorable little boy–I’ll call him Baby  W. to protect his sweet identity, even though most of you know him–1-1/2 days each week.  It’s a nice arrangement: just enough time to break up our week and give Daphne someone other than me to interact with, but not too much time that I can’t run my errands or clean my house or see friends.

The best part of watching Baby W. is seeing my daughter love on him.  When he gets here in the morning she hurries over and rubs his back and kisses his head.  Then she follows him around with an empty bottle and shoves it in his mouth, because if the bottle is available then it should be used.

Might I tempt you with a bottle, the contents of which have already been consumed?

Sometimes I find them having these baby conversations without words.  This morning she was tilting her head and nodding at him while making sounds that she thinks are actual words but aren’t, and he responded by flapping his arms.

Babies can hurt you with their cuteness.

Gideon was still playing with age-appropriate trains and toddler toys when we took a walk around the neighborhood and he pointed his “boom stick”–a tiny curved tree limb, barely in the shape of a gun–at objects and made the sound of them exploding as his arm jolted upward from the imaginary recoil.  I’m still not sure where he got the idea for that.  The most violence he’d seen up to that point on TV was when Thomas the Tank Engine ran through the buffers and oil splattered everywhere as his eyes spun in circles from the surprise.  Obviously this was well before his love for Spider-Man and Transformers..

Friday afternoon Neighbor Boy called and said he had a surprise for Gideon.  We stopped at Neighbor Boy’s grandparents’ house on our walk and Gideon was gifted with a very nice, homemade pretend gun carved from wood, made by Neighbor’s Boy’s grandpa.  It even came with a holster.  Then Neighbor Boy and Gideon fought off the bad guys in the neighborhood with their matching guns to protect Mia’s heart.  Very cute.

Saturday morning Neighbor Boy ran to our house and brought another very nice homemade pretend gun carved from wood, this time for Mia.  So Sunday afternoon I asked them to make thank you cards for Neighbor Boy’s Grandpa.  They made the sweetest cards, told him he’s “awesome,” with people at the bottom of the page, smiling as they point guns at each other.

I don’t think they understand guns yet.

Sometimes you forget that your baby is just a baby, and instead believe her to be a genius stuck in the teeny body of a toddler; the only reason she does not wow you with her erudite thoughts on philosophy and theology is because her large command of language gets thwarted by her tongue that is still working to form the words.  Otherwise, WOW, you two would have profoundly important conversations during the day.

But then she motions to put on her brother’s (clean!) Spider-Man underwear over her pants and BAM! you remember, nope, she is just a baby.

Pretty fly.

In a new every-other-year tradition that my husband probably hasn’t yet realized, Hubby goes duck hunting the Saturday after Thanksgiving.  When he told the kids his plans Little Missy looked at me with wide eyes before turning back to her father.  “No!” she squealed. “You can’t kill the baby ducks!”  She never cried, though, not like she did two years ago when Hubby told her his killing plans.  That’s improvement.

This year Gideon even got to go, and he maturedly handled the wind and rain with nary a complaint.  Somewhere deep inside his little body his boy DNA told him that is what you must endure in order to shoot ducks with your daddy and uncles.  It’s hard for me to understand the appeal but he loved it.

When my two very cold men got home Gideon walked right up to me.  “Mommy, I need to talk to you but Mia can’t hear.”

I walked into the kitchen, sat down on a stool and looked him in the eye.  “Okay, what’s going on.”

“Well, we shot a duck but it didn’t die, so uncle Shane had to pull it’s head off and then it’s body still moved after it was dead.”

He looked at me with his serious face and slightly excited big eyes and I tried not to show him my freaked-out face.  I (calmly, I think) said the best thing I could think of.  “Whoa.  That is pretty crazy.”

“Yeah.”

Who knows what Gideon will experience next time.

• Do not assume that your daughter–the only (non-baby) girl in attendance–is the one with the high-pitched screams.  Otherwise you’ll look her in the eye and tell her to cut it out as that same shriek simultaneously erupts from the other room.
• If you allow one of the guests to chase two of the other boys with a golf club, make sure it’s a NERF golf club.
• Video games, while not normally ideal, sure come in handy.  Oh sweet electronic bliss, bring on that mind-numbing virtue we parents usually abhor.

excitement is about to burst through their calm demeanors.

Monday the kids had ANOTHER day off from school.  Which again, I love, but SERIOUSLY with the days off.  Out of the four full weeks in October, my kids are only attending a five-day school week two of those weeks.  Same for September.  How do the parents that work deal with all the time off of Augusta Public Schools?  I’d like to copy the Bluestem school district that has four-day weeks.  Or even better, I’d like to copy the school my husband’s cousin sends her child to, where kids only attend two days a week and then parents work with their children on the off days.  I would love love love that.  My kids would get to meet friends at school and learn music and run around in P.E. but I’d get to have them home and see their brains grasping new concepts.

Anyway, for this day off Hubby planned long in advance to take Gideon and Mia to Papa’s Vet Clinic and shadow him for the day.  Daphne and I hung out with Grandma; we ate pecan rolls downtown and shopped at cute little stores.  More my speed than getting cow poop in my hair.

At lunch we all met up at the Mexican restaurant.  Mia couldn’t sit down before telling me about their day, “Papa got to feel the babies in the mama cows tummies and he STUCK HIS HAND UP THEIR BUTT!”

It’s called preg checking.  OBs do something similar with us pregnant ladies once we know we’re pregnant, but large animal vets put on gloves that go up to their shoulders and manually find out if a heifer or cow is pregnant and how far along she is.  Although gross, it seems easier than asking the cow to pee on a Clear Blue Easy stick and then making her wait three minutes for the results.

Other highlights: looking in a microscope, getting food from both of the housecalls (if that’s even what Papa calls it) when Papa preg checked more cattle (I don’t know if Papa is always so well-fed on his calls, but that day one family [a Mennonite family, so you know that stuff was delicious and homemade] brought out sweet tea and treats for Papa, Hubby and the kids; at the other stop they shared candy and pop with the boy who lived there.  They got spoiled.), seeing a tazer (or cattle prod).

And now for the pictures!

Yep. Stinky.

Standing in front of a mama cow.

The last time Gideon saw Papa neuter a dog he whispered to Grandma post-surgery, "When is Papa gonna put those back?"

Looking at microbes.

My other budding scientist.

After all the treats and the microscopes and the cattle prod from the day prior, Tuesday morning as Mia got ready for school she once again told me about Papa sticking his hand up the cow’s butt.  I wonder what part of her day off she’ll share with her friends.