It's been a great year! Thanks for being a part of it.

 Facebook, I tell ya.  They know how to do it...sometimes.  Well, here's my year in review, with commentary, of course, and some shitty parts thrown in there for fun too.  And pictures you probably haven't seen because they've been on my camera since I took them.  I'll actually start with the bad.  And end with the good.  So, you leave here feeling all warm and fuzzy.

A few things have happened this year that have absolutely sucked.  Some are not as bad as others, but I'll begin in February. 

Claire turned 12.  I don't like throwing her birthday parties because she usually cries and/or throws hissy fits about things not going her way.  I hate watching it.  I also hate watching her friends rally behind her and pick her up and generally treat her like a princess, which she probably plans from the start.  Dumb.  But I agreed this year, again, saying that it would be her last, especially her last WITH PRESENTS!  Enough already.  She invited boys (four of them) this year and everyone was going to stay outside sledding and skating, which was all fine and dandy.  UNTIL the drama started.  Her boyfriend at the time was (and still is) a very nice young man.  He's had a crush on Claire since I can remember.  His parents came in to meet me when they dropped him off; they were super nice and totally down to earth.  He got her an Alex and Ani bracelet, which (you know) says something.  And then, AND THEN, Claire has to tell another boy while they were out skating that she doesn't really like her boyfriend anymore.  What?  Say what?  You did what?  Who are you?  And so, of course, that boy tells her boyfriend and it isn't until he leaves the party and goes home and gets on his Ipod that she TEXTS him that she doesn't want to go out anymore.  I realize she's 12 and navigating the murky swamp of "dating" but geez girl, you know right from wrong!!

On to other shitty news:
Besides the boys NOT winning a soccer game this last fall (and me taking the brunt of the blame because I was their coach), the other catastrophic event that happened was that Timmy decided he wanted to move out of his bedroom. 

The guest room isn't quite Timmy's yet.  Not until the septic goes in over at the shop so the guest room can move out to Paul Bunyan's Mother-in-law space.

 But for now he's moved 1/2 the clothes, 1/2 the Nerf guns, 1/2 the posters, and his hockey awards.

 And my heart is broken.

 They still get along swimmingly.

 Obviously.

But the move is definitely a sign that they are needing their own identities and space and friends and space and whaaaaa.....they don't need each other any more.


And the last two very tragic events were the loss of Bee and Bozie.  I've never spoken about Bozie on this here blog but she arrived a month before Bee died.  She was listed as a English Bulldog mix on Petfinder.  Paul Bunyan has always wanted an English Bulldog and a brindle.  So there.  She was going to be IT!

She and Bee played fantastically.  For one month, they wrestled and wrestled some more and then kissed.  There was only one fight between them.  Bozie showed signs of fear aggression the moment she arrived.  However, the moment Bee died she really started to growl and scare anyone who came to the door.  She snapped at the kids and bit Paul Bunyan.  I knew it wasn't the right fit, so mourning the loss of Bee I had to drive Bozie down to Connecticut one week later to surrender her to a rescue that was partnered with the one I adopted her from in Arkansas.  This place seemed horrible though.  It was a converted gas station with just windows and cement and dog kennels.  I cried the whole way home.  I was grateful my mother was there to drive- I wouldn't have been able to do it.  I had to convince myself that I had done the right thing and that we were just the transport for her to get to her forever home.  She was adopted not soon after I brought her to CT.  So, I have to believe she is where she's supposed to be.  She was labeled, after all was said and done, a Mountain Cur- a dog bred to protect.

The loss of Bee will mar most of the good things that happened to our family in 2014.  I will never forget the sight of those reverse lights from my neighbor's car.  I just knew.  I knew she'd be laying down in the back of it. 

I feel her loss in so many ways.

She was a fantastic dog and I'm sad that her ONE fault was the thing that killed her.  Well, that and she liked to bark at us if she was bored.

But she taught us some valuable lessons- ones I hope we can remember when we bring our IV(Y) home on the 2nd.  Our fourth black lab, with all of her love, will bring us some cheer for the New Year.  And dog hair.  And poop to clean up.  And sharp puppy teeth.  And wet dog smell.  And, and, new puppy smell, too.




Okay, well that transitions us into the good.  There's a bunch.  More than I can or want to document here.  But the highlights are:

Despite Claire's strong finish and 5th place at States, Claire decided to quit gymnastics to pursue other interests.  Here was one of them:

Can you say, "Happy Mum"?  So fun to watch her.  Well, I shouldn't say that.  Let's be honest here.  It sucked to watch her play.  But I enjoyed seeing her have fun with the team.  And I was grateful that she was on a team!  Without gymnastics and the pressure to be there all year long, many hours a week, Claire has freed herself up to be present at camp all summer and not feel guilty, to try a fall sport, and to commit herself to theater.  She is happy to announce that she got the part of Tiger Lily in this year's production of Peter Pan.  And now I'm starting to sound like a Christmas letter.

I found this shot of her dressed up for her FIRST EVER HALLOWEEN!

She's a fucking pissed of Native American, eh?  I'm not sure Tiger Lily is that mad.

We'll keep the Christmas letter theme going.

In April, the family took their very first "vacation" without having either set of Grandparents pay for them.  We took the train to NYC for two nights.  

 Everyone wanted to shop, except Mom, so that's all we pretty much did.



In June, the boys graduated from 4th grade.

They miss their teacher tremendously.  She was like another mother to them and now they actually have sit and get shit done at school.  They hate it.  However, it was a special night.

They were very lucky to have the experience they did at this little elementary school.  It's a special place.  Here they are with their Kindergarten teacher- their class was her last year (40th!).



In other news:

Auggie got up on water skis this summer!  On his very first attempt!  What a stud.

And, once again, Paul Bunyan amazes us all with his building prowess.  He, and his brother from another mother Jon, put up the post and beam frame for a brand new Sugar Shack this past summer. 

 

I still get amazed at his ability to dream and DO anything and everything he puts his mind to.  1,000 

taps are on target for Spring of 2015.   

And last, but not least, the biggest thing to happen to me this year was my decision to quit drinking.  I didn't want to make this blog about my sobriety and I won't now but I have to say it's probably the best decision I've made for myself since I decided to start washing my face with oil-free face wash.  It's been something I've been proud of.  I don't know what in my make-up mixes with booze and creates a raging, mean, mommy but something has changed in my blood that, when mixed with fermented liquid, boils up and over the threshold.  I cried for three weeks at the loss of my daily dose, but in hindsight it was probably something I should have quit a long long time ago.  I'm giving myself a pat on the back for my courage.  Because it ain't easy folks.

Here I am with my Mom having my first Mexican meal without a margarita.  Bummer dude.  But righteous at the same time.  There's more to life than beer.  And there's no self love at the bottom of a bottle.  It took me a long time to realize this.


Here's hoping we can continue to learn from our ways in 2015!

Day 29

 The boys had their Spring choral concert on Monday.

 I made them take tubs and comb their hair and scrub behind their...parts.

They wouldn't let me take a picture of them standing.  And so they're, well, jumping.

Auggie didn't even want to go.  He expressed this to me a few days prior.  I told him he had to tell his music teacher that he wasn't going to go and why.  "But Mom," he complained, "I can't tell her I think her songs are all too babyish."
     "Well, I don't really know what else to tell you.  I'm not going to let you ditch her.  If you don't want to do it you don't have to.  You just have to tell her why." 
     "Fine.  I'll go."
     "Excellent choice."

 Well, in our attempts to get to the school on time I didn't grab my telephoto lens.  Hence my pictures are too bad to share.

However, I do think (for the sake of remembering) that I'd like to blow them up for you (just a little) despite their blurriness.

Because I think my son Auggie would want it stated for the record for all of you to know that....

he did not sing ONE word of those baby songs.  So there.

Hey, Mr. Tooth Fairy!

Yes, so I remember being in Mrs. Schweikhart's first grade class. I had my Holly Hobby metal lunch box and I had just finished unwrapping a bagel with cream cheese that my mother had so neatly folded in waxed paper. I took a big bite and hmph, out came my tooth.

That's all I remember.

Well, I knew things were going to start falling out all over the place here. Everything is loose. So, I went to the bank in my frilliest outfit and asked politely for 16 of the crispest one dollar bills. I've got 8 for him. And 8 for him. Because god forbid anyone receives 4 quarters.

I wrapped my crisp bills in a tightly sealed envelope and hid that sucker so Paul Bunyan wouldn't steal any of it for maple creemies.

And then wouldn't you know, this happened:









And wouldn't you know it happened to HIM first. Because he came out second, talked second, crawled second, walked second, pooped on the potty second, learned how to tie his shoe second, played T-ball second best, road his bike second best, played soccer second best.




And just this morning he was waving his dollar bill around FIRST thing. And everyone had to stop for a second and watch.

**In a frightful panic so as not to forget, and because I'm ghastly afraid of being the one to get 'caught', I taped a note (Hey, Mr. Tooth Fairy) and a freshly pressed one dollar bill from my hidden and sealed envelope to the front door. Strategically placed so that when Paul Bunyan came home from sanding and painting trim at his man lover's house, he would see that it was time. He, of course, has been known to do "magic" and leave special candies under the spawn's pillows at 2 a.m. when he returns home from the E.R. AND because he has a keen likeness in appearance to the tooth fairy, it just makes sense to me that he is more prepared and designed to take on this dirty duty. After just now interviewing him, he claims it was a painstaking job, filled with a long and suspenseful wait as Auggie tossed and turned for 20 minutes. When he was complaining to me about how difficult it was, my only reply was, "dood, wait until you have to climb up to the top bunk to steal Timmy's teeth." He says to me, "I'm retiring."

hmph. Now what are we going to do?


**can you guess which one is me??

My Son, the Early Evening Werewolf

Dear Auggie, I just put you to bed without dinner. It's been a long time since I've had to do that. You were busting up into tiny pieces. Howling at the moon, except the sun was just starting to sag below the mountains. Your fangs were foaming and beastly hair started to grow from your ears.

But it's all my fault. So, I wanted to write this quick note to apologize to you.

I'm sorry I was trying to be cool on Friday afternoon.

Who wouldn't think their mom is the BOMB for setting up the family tent in the back yard?



How was I supposed to know that your peaceful moment of building Lego cars in the tent,




your moment of after school bonding with your brother,




your afternoon in the sun with your botty,




would turn into a long hour or two of naked wrestling?

And Okay, I'm sorry I set the tent up on a slight incline so that I had to interrupt your deep sleep to drag you, on occasion, back up to the top- where your pillow waited your return.

And I'm sorry that Pop Pop and Gramma wanted to come see you play T-ball Saturday morning, where they witnessed you hit and run around the bases every time you were up at bat, without once ever being thrown out.

And I'm sorry that you had to eat one hot dog and one hamburger at lunch and then swim all afternoon until you had to get out to eat three homemade chocolate chip cookies; and then I'm sorry Pop-Pop gave you a gold one dollar coin to spend at the bake sale at your sister's Minor Key concert, where you purchased one bag of red gummy fish and two individually wrapped Twizzlers. I'm sorry you had to sit and listen to the same songs you hear your sister sing every single day. But yesterday, we had music attached.

And then I'm sorry we had to say good-bye to Grandma and Pop-pop because we had to get to Mud's before the sun went down. And I'm sorry you ran around all night long pointing a Nerf gun in everyone's face and taking laps in the pond in a canoe paddled by your father, as the sun set behind us.



And I'm sorry that you got a chance to sleep again in the tent with the sounds of the coydogs and 'who cooks for you' owls concocting the mood of your dreams.

And I'm sorry you got to go down to the country store with Daddy in the morning to pick out a donut or two- I know you had a chocolate one because I licked off the frosting when I finally got to see your smiling face. I'm sorry you got to go up and down the stairs about a hundrid times to fly your paper airplane off of Daddy's balcony.

And then I'm sorry you had another four hour playdate with Tanner. I heard you spent the whole day in the pond with the mating frogs and that you ate a bologna sandwich. And probably shot the Nerf gun again.

And I'm sorry you had to do this before we left Mud's house:



And then I'm sorry we made you ride your bike, when it's really one fingernail too big, down on Gillett Pond Road, up and down the hills, with brakes that aren't in the pedals any more.

I apologize for all that fun, and obnoxiously unhealthy food, and over-exhaustion and I realize your outbursts tonight were my fault and not yours- that I combed your werewolf whiskers and sharpened those fangs.

I know you didn't fall asleep thinking that I'm the coolest Mom on the hill, but maybe the next day, or the day after that, you'll wake up and see that yea, Dad's got a cute ass, but I can pitch a six-person tent like a pro and make the best chocolate chip cookies this side of the Mississippi. Someday.

I love you tons,
Mom

p.s. don't worry about the homework we didn't get to. Daddy will help you with it tomorrow night.

August the Fifth

My husband's father's family are Germans. It's embarrassing that I don't know the complete heritage...who came from where, when, why, how? I know that the majority of the Augusts' have been born in August; I know (for sure) that the last three have. Whether or not the first two were born in August, I'm not sure. I'll find out and let you know. However, the fact that 3/5 have definitely been born in August is kinda cool...don't ya think? This is what I know...


August (the original)...???
August II...he was called Gus
August III...he is called Tuck (or Popi by my children)
August IV...he goes by Austin (or Paul Bunyan on this blog)
August V...he goes by Auggie (I don't think he knows his name is August, like the month)



August III, IV, and V have all been born in August. Our Auggie, our baby, is (for certain) a boy. Despite his obvious physical genitalia, here's how I know he is a boy: he has not wanted to pick up a pen, not wanted to think about holding a pen, or a crayon, or a marker, or even a Cray-Pas EVER. Sorry, this is stereotypical. He is 4 and a half. Now mind you, I graduated from Iowa (I'll explain later) with a degree in English and went right on to get my Master's in English at UVM (go cats go), and taught English at a private school before having my daughter, who is going to major in English at Harvard (just joking, maybe). Are you getting the reading, writing, holding a pen, ENGLISH part here? I'm not pressuring him, at all; not ever, no never, I promise. You have to believe me. Because I think you would have heard, in my voice, a bit of celebration when I went into his bedroom (which, mind you, is full of TOYS, like trucks and trains and tractors and race cars) and found him doing this...ALL BY HIMSELF (which, mind you, will be framed and subsequently posted on the wall)!












Now, I'm not sure if this is a hungry hunter like a Baryonyx, Velociraptor, Xenotarsosaurus, or a Stenonychosaurus, or possibly a peaceful plant eater like a Zephyrosaurus, Wannanosaurus, or a Riojasaurus. Wah? I guess it doesn't really matter in the end. However, I was certain our very own King August the Fifth from Lichtenstein could tell us what kind of fire spitting dinosaur this is. And so when I asked him (after my private little celebration I had in my head) he said, simply, "(duh, you English nerd) it was a Fabrosaurus."








And all I could say was..."that is fabulous...simply, fabulous. You, King August the Fifth, are Fabrolous."