Theres a hole in the bucket

I am finding it very f-ing ironic that in order to manage our finances I need to spend hundreds of dollars on software.

My bank updated their site, which made the software I was using obsolete. I took a deep breath and decided to buy the software I've been wanting to buy for some time. I thought I had researched it all. I talked, (or rather chatted- brilliant, I can chat online and screaming kids don't disrupt, except they do or maybe I would have chatted the right questions.) to someone at the company to insure that I could import the files from my geriatric software. I can! Thats great! Hey, am I taking care of this or what?

Let it be said that I am still juggling the pain in the ass antics of the inhabitants of my house (who I love dearly) while focusing 75 percent of my brain on the financial software (hey- thats the most anyone gets. 75%. Don't be greedy.) In retrospect, I should have just attached a feedbag to S, instead of refilling her bowl with cheese 3o times. Especially since I discovered on the 29th time that she was sharing with the dogs. Please don't ask my why I filled it a 3oth time. I really don't know. Ask the 25% of my brain that was on duty.

I was actually looking forward to updating our finances. Getting organized. Growing our business, guaranteed, as the software promises. But hey guess what? I can't run the software on the operating system I have. No, I will have to buy more software to make it work. After I calm down a bit I will have to figure out what the hell to do.

But first I need to get the cheese bag away from S. She has gone and gotten out of the fridge herself. And is filling up her bowl. I give up. It has to be a conspiracy.

Pre-K and the code of silence

J and I went to H's kindergarten orientation last night. Its all getting a little too real, this kindergarten thing. I know it will be great, I know H will be fine. I know H will be fine before I am fine, but I guess thats how it goes.

I have taken to calling the school where H goes to pre-school the cosa nostra. It is comically hard to figure out small details, like, oh, I don't know- what class your child is in? What teacher they have? On H's first day of school, I didn't know what class she was in, or even where the classrooms were. I didn't know who worked at the school, and had to pull someone aside, who I think was a parent judging from the fact that they were only slightly less clueless than I was, to ask where I should be going.

I found a classroom, saw that H wasn't on that class list and tried another and another until I found the right one. I met her teachers for the first time that day, and didn't get to know them any better until back to school night which was a few weeks later. S starts school at the cosa nostra in a few weeks. I'm not sure what class she'll be in, or who will be teaching the class, but now I am a part of the familia. I know who to ask, I know where the classrooms are. I know the procedure. The procedure is just come here long enough and you'll know. People aren't trying to be difficult, for the most part, its just that they assume you know, because they think probably your mom or your grandmom told you. What? They didn't go to pre-K at this school? Where are you from anyway? We've lived in our house for 9 years. A few years ago a neighbor at the other end of the street came up to me and said "You're the new people, right?" I said "no, we've been here for 6 years." "Yeah", she said. "The new people."

So, imagine my shock and awe when J and I go to this kindergarten orientation and receive a folder with a class list, a calendar for next year. All kinds of forms all in the same place. Then we actually met the kindergarten teacher. AND the parents of the kids who will be in the class. 4 months before school starts. Actually, the fact that there was an orientation at all threw me off course. I received a letter from the school about a month ago. The beginning of the letter said something about meeting your mentor family, and everything else stopped- I think I actually heard the needle sliding off the record. Mentor family? I missed the important part of the letter, which even said, in these very words, to write May 27th on your calender. Its a very important orientation meeting where we will answer all your questions... It said to RSVP. I didn't. I forgot. I am making a hell of a first impression. I had to be reminded by the director of the school that perhaps I should show up.

At least we didn't miss the very important orientation meeting. I have my hand over my heart as I swear not to block out any more important information just because kindergarten scares me.

An indulgence

I promise to not over abuse and make this a garden blog, not that theres anything wrong with that, but it occurs to me I can rant not only about my kids and dogs and my art but about my plant obsessions too.

For example, this is Graham Thomas:

Isn't he handsome? I think we see some of Graham's friend Jude the Obscure (best rose name ever) in the back ground.

This is another of my favorites that I lug in when it gets cold and back out when it warms up.

I used to know the name of this plant, but I've forgotten and have spent too long already trying to figure it out.

Here is S. Enough with the plant portraits already, she says.

American Gothic

Birds and bees

An update: This is my new robin friend. The one that came into my kitchen and pooped.


I'm pretty sure that he flew (or landed and then hopped a few times) into my house on his own accord- not that Maxi brought him in, as I had previously thought. After I took him outside, I saw the nest he must have been in just a few feet from my back door. I had the door proped open, to assist me with everyone who is always trapped on the opposite side of the door they want to be on and yelping. Even though I have been pleaded with by J, and given countless 'told you so' looks after we get bees in the house, to keep the damn door shut to keep out the vermin. My defense of keeping the door open "Whats going to come in? You're crazy" is wearing thin, what with now bees and birds flying in. I heard cheeps and tweets and saw some concerned robin parents hopping about. I saw the robin's siblings spread out around the garden on branches looking shell shocked- it must have been the day they were given the boot.

I am a little concerned about this guy as he was all of 5 inches off the ground. I literally held the camera an inch from his little bird face and he was unfazed. I think he needs to be a little fazed for survival here in the land of hungry cats and bird dogs.

Predictable

I went to the grocery store with S this morning after dropping H off at school. We needed just a couple things. I have been trying (again. still.) to rid our lives, at least the waking moments of our lives, from the dreaded pacifier, so we left it in the car. S decided to leave monkey in the car, too. I hesitated, but then, since she did it on her own, decided not to be an enabler. I even thought about not using a cart and just using a basket. Since we only needed a couple of things. S insisted on a cart so we got one. I usually let her eat a bagel while we shop, one of the million of things I said I'd never do. Since we needed just a couple things, I told her we weren't going to get a bagel today.

I went to the produce guy, who must hate me because no mater what I'm looking for, its the one thing he has to get from the back. Today it was cilantro. He said to come back in 10 minutes, and then said to S, "Hi princess! Where's your bagel?"

After I picked up the last of the couple things I needed, but before I headed back to produce to get the cilantro, S lost it all. Jumped out of the cart (yes, she was bucked in. It doesn't matter.) Ran away from me. I caught her, she fell to the ground. Its like a ballet now, I reach my hand to cushion the blow to her head, she rolls around on the floor in the middle of the aisle.

I wanted to just leave. Screw the cilantro. I have some in my garden, I'd just use that- but I really like the produce guy and he seems the type to never go get things from the back for you ever again if you stand him up once. I had S in a kind of straitjacket hug. Shes screaming. Patrons are staring. The produce guy is talking to the deli lady with a box of cilantro under his arm. I have to interrupt. Is this worse than standing him up? I don't know. No soup for you!

We somehow get to the checkout. Luckily there is no line. I got S to sit inside body of the cart, which will surely screw me next time we attempt to shop for groceries. The cashier one lane over sees S freaking out, and looks at me and says "Where her pacifier?" This is the same lady who tells me every time I see her that S needs to give up the pacifier, that I should give her a sippy cup instead. Why this doesn't drive me insane I don't know, but I like this lady. I alwaystell her I let S use the pacifier in the store because I wouldn't be able to feed anybody other wise. She comes over to talk to S. She says to her "You're too pretty to have that ugly attitude!" S glares at her. Blinks. Glares some more. "Where your monkey at?" She asks.

Today's excitement

H, S and I were in the backyard eating water ice (what would happen if you put popsicles in a blender for anyone unaware of water ice) H ran inside to go to the bathroom. H came running back outside, seconds later- crying hysterically- so unlike her. I wondered what it could possibly be, fear sliding up my throat while I reassured myself that as horrible as it was, she got away from it. "There's a bird in our house!" She screamed. "A REAL BIRD! IN OUR KITCHEN! AND IT POOPED!" I relaxed considerably, but she was frantic and would go nowhere near the house. And hadn't gone to the bathroom yet. I headed in to assess the situation, hoping the bird was alive. I came in the back door and Maxi went outside, in disgust. A baby robin sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, looked up at me and pooped. Adorable.


H was still frantic, S was now frantic too as I'd left her in the backyard alone (and her water ice was done). The dogs were in the kitchen with me and very interested in the robin, and Maxi sauntered back in. The robin began to get a little nervous, hopped/flew into the pile of rubble I call the laundry room and wedged itself behind the vacuum cleaner.

I convinced H to get inside and go to the bathroom, got S inside to see the birdy, got the dogs and cat outside where they couldn't eat the robin.


I caught the robin, and was admiring it, hoping it wasn't going to die in my hands from shock. I wore garden gloves just in case its robin parents can find him and give him some handouts- I don't know if theres any truth to that baby animal shunned by parents if they smell humans thing. This guy seemed old enough to fly the nest, but only just. I'm assuming this bird was brought in by Maxi, and have no idea where she got it from. I called H down to see the robin, how often do you get to see a robin so close up? She refused. I was yelling about it being JUST LIKE LITTLE BEARS ROBIN, further traumatising the bird, I'm sure. H wouldn't come down.

When I was trying to catch it, every time I held my fingers above its head it would open its mouth to be fed, so once in the box and outside I tried to dig it up some food, which it didn't eat- what with the trauma of being caught by a cat, and a human, salivated on by some dogs, screamed at and around. What do you mean you're not hungry?

H had bravely come down by this point and I asked if she wanted to help get a worm for the robin. "Yes!" She said "Lets get the one that pooped on me. Because I didn't like that." Don't cross her!

Now I'm on robin patrol- I'll have to escort the dogs to the bathroom and keep Maxi, home wrecker, inside for a bit.