An auntie again!

My sister Melody and her husband Chris (and their daughter Evie) welcomed Cana Strayer tonight! 6 lbs. 5 oz. of perfect new yumminess.
Thanks for your prayers regarding her could-have-been-but-thanks-be-to-God-wasn't-very tumultuous entrance into this world.
Can't wait to meet you, sweet thing! I love you already!

OK, so the smell thing

Last week, I noticed a vaguely funky odor in my kitchen. I sniffed around. Couldn't find anything. The left side of my kitchen is a possible odor nightmare, as the refrigerator, trash can, washer and dryer are all right in a row. So I don't find anything.
The next day, a bit worse. Smells like musty old man breath. (You KNOW what I mean.) Not like rotting trash, or fruit, or mildewy clothes. Still can't find it.
Third day now horrible. Go through refrigerator, nothing. No dirty/stinky clothes in washer. No not-quite-dry-so-now-musty clothes in dryer. Trash can empty.
Wait. Waaaait just one minute. What's that BEHIND the trash can? Oh, it's the lid to the trash can. (Why do I even keep that? It's NEVER on the trash can. Screw it, I'm going to throw it away.) But as I lift it, yuck, what's that black liquid pooling on it? OH MY GROSS, IT SMELLS SO FOUL! WHAT IS THIS VILE MIASMA OF NASTINESS?????
I look up, to behold a lone potato sitting underneath a bag of onions in the produce basket that hangs from the underside of the cabinet. The onions are fine; the potato, sadly, is not. At arm's length, with a paper-towel-covered hand, I throw the potato in the trash can. Then gag into said trash can. Carry the bag out. Go spray the offending liquid puddle with some strong chemical. Gag again. Almost leave it for Jon to clean up, honestly only because he has a stronger stomach. Soldier on. Have to move refrigerator to get entire puddle. Gag some more. Dry-heave into trash can.
Get the picture? Have I painted it well enough?
In other news, we leave for Creation THE DAY AFTER TOMORROOOOOOW! Woo-hoo!

What's the WORST smell you can think of?

Seriously. The worst EVER. (OK, don't get too graphic. I'm not talking dead bodies or anything. Just your average, run-of-the-mill, might-encounter-it-occasionally-or-hopefully-only-this-once-in-your-lifetime smell.)
I'll tell you why later, but I'd be interested in what it is for you.

A photo shoot

We took pictures at the Lost Colony park last week. I will post more later, because Israel took the "real" pictures. I haven't sorted through those yet. These are some that I took over his shoulder while he was working. I love them!

She posed herself like this. Princess much?

Ahh, that pensive look she's perfected.

Micah was actually just climbing here, not posing.


Check out the eyes! Love it.

Silly pictures are best.

Again with the pensive.


Easily my favorite of all of them.

Cutie Abbie.

My rugrats.

The whole group.

My smarty kids....

....scored 111/120 (Katie) and 92/100 (Micah) on their standardized tests for this year. This is a great achievement in itself, but to add to that, I test them at one grade level higher than their age. So Katie's pre-school pals are in 1st, but she tested 2nd, Micah's are in K and he tested 1st, clear as mud?
I'm so proud of them! I also did a reading-level assessment and Katie is at a 7th grade reading level, Micah at a high 4th grade.
I love these kids, and I love homeschooling.
That is all.

Non-cuss words and "Mother of the Year"

Sunday mornings are madness in my life. Every alternate Sunday, Jon is on duty and can't attend church with us, so I've got the kids to myself. The getting ready part isn't too bad; I've got that down pretty well. However, since I'm one of the worship leaders, I have to be there an hour early for rehearsal. I try to bring stuff for them to do (there's no one in the nursery at that time), like pads and pens and books and small toys and stuff. But here's how it usually goes:
In the car when we're almost there, we have a recitation of "the rules". The rules are, more or less, 1. stay in the front of the church, right where I can see you
2. no running in the sanctuary
3. no crawling under chairs
4. no throwing toys
5. no coming up on stage unless either I call you or someone is direly injured.
6. keep your shoes on unless you're wearing flip-flops
7. when church starts, sit with Nana, Mama Candy, Grandad, or Miss Christina. Pick one of them and stay there.

So, we get there, I go to put my stuff down and turn on my gear, and instantly the shoes are off, the bag of books and pens is opened and stuff is scattered everywhere, and Micah starts flinging a stuffed animal into the air. (I'm thinking he's trying to get it stuck in an overhead light.)
The whole time I'm rehearsing, I'm leaning away from my live microphone and hissing, "STOP THAT! LEAVE HERE ALONE! QUIT THROWING STUFF! DON'T JUMP OFF THE CHAIRS!"

This morning, there is some hostility going on between Katie and Micah. Katie catches my eye (we weren't actually playing yet at this point) and says, "MOMMY! Micah said a BAD WORD! He said the S-WORD!" I about swallowed my tongue in shock. I called Micah up to me and said, "Micah! What did you say?!?!" He mumbled, "I don't want to say it." I said, "Whisper it in my ear." So he leaned over and said, "stupid. I'M SORRY, MAMA!"

It was pretty hard to cover my giggles at that one.

After church, we went to the beach with my girlfriends and their collective kids. It was great fun, but after we returned home, De-Ann and I discovered that we should jointly hold the Mother of the Year Award for Suckiness in Sunscreen Application (kids' body division). I love to use the continous-spray sunscreen, but apparently I didn't take into account the wind in my application of it (either time). So now we all have blotchy red spots, me mostly on my legs and Micah and Abbie on their back. Also, the tops of Abbie's legs and Micah's back at the waistband of his trunks are FRIED. De-Ann uses lotion, and apparently just mixed too much sand in it or something, because her two eldest girls are BRIGHT red on their backs.
So, some aloe spray and some ice cream were in order tonight.

And a cold beer for me.

Funny things my kids say, part 538

Micah (after spending the evening with Nanny and Grandad, by himself): Well, Nanny and Grandad were eating dinner, but I already had dinner at home, so I had some of that...what's it called? I think it's called "Christian ice"?" Seconds go by. Then I realize he means "Italian ice". Not sure where that went awry.

Abbie (after having a completely disgusting discussion with me and Katie about snot and phlegm and "loogies", and having been told by me, once again, that eating boogers is nasty): "Well, when I'm FIVE I'll probably stop eating my boogers."

Micah (out of the blue): "Mom, what does 'heartache and misery' mean?" Me: "Where did you hear that?" Micah: "Oh, I just read it somewhere." (One must ask: Does your mother ever check on what you're reading? The answer, embarrassingly, is 'Rarely'. This gem, in particular, happened to come out of the book series "The Spiderwick Chronicles". Which I DID check on.)

Katie: "Kissing is disgusting." Sigh. And so it begins.