And someday we'll be able to afford to furnish it

This is our new house. We just closed on it yesterday despite the fact that our home in California is still on the market. We're still not sure what kind of fuzzy math the mortgage company used to determine that we could actually afford this place. But it's pretty, isn't it? The lawn will be put in in a few weeks once the weather cools off more.

And it will provide milk and cheese for our family

"I know how to solve the poison ivy problem in our yard."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"We'll get a goat."

"Well then how will we solve our goat problem?"

"Chupacabra!"

We must be doing something right

Today we received Jackson's first progress report from school. What I mean by that is that this is the first time he's received a report from a school that actually quantifies his progress in simple language. His old school would send home a report at the end of the year written in calligraphy on handmade hemp paper that smelled of patchouli and included such phrases as "Jackson has a rich interior life" and "he embraces the routines of the season."

His new school's report evaluated a child on a scale of 1-4 in 5 different areas: science, math, reading, writing and social studies. Our little academic scored 3s (meeting requirement) in 3 of the subjects and 4s (exceeding requirements) in reading and math. I haven't really seen any of the science or social studies work they've been doing since the bulk of the work is reading, writing and math. And Jackson's writing is pretty damn sloppy but I believe this to be not the result of an inadequacy in his writing abilities, but rather due to the fact that he's just plain lazy.

There was also a place for the teacher to check off problems the child is having that needed further attention and, possibly, required a conference. There was nothing checked for Jackson, not even that he has an intense obsession with Pokemon that borders on psychosis. Don't know how she missed that one.

The brother we never told you about

Last night after dinner we were sitting around the table and Clara was being extraordinarily cute.

"She is so dang cute. I'm so glad I had all cute kids."

"Yeah, they're pretty cute... well, except for that one ugly one we have..."

"Who? Which one of us is the ugly one? Is it Sam?"

"No, not Sam."

"Then is it Clara?"

"Nope. It's not Clara either."

"Oh, man..."

"Yep, it's Joe."

This is where all kidding ends and Jackson's face and tone of voice become solemn.

"Who's Joe?"

Southern pests

I've made mention here before of the hippie school that Jackson attended in Kindergarten and 1st grade. Well, thanks to the wonders of YouTube you can experience some of the magic yourself.

The difference between this school and a typical public school have been becoming very obvious to me as Jackson completes his second week at a public school. One of the main unfortunate differences is that Jackson has been coming home from school with chigger bites. That's CH-igger. But, yeah, we worried about that, too.

I'm kidding.

Diversion

David's away for the week. He had to go back to California for work, leaving me with 3 kids during this rocky start to our new life here in NC. All I can say is that it's been the best of times, it's been the worst of times. But more on that in another post. For now let me leave you with this photo I took downtown. You can probably read the large sign that says "Elsewhere". But look closely and you might see that other sign that reads "Closed". Such is life lately.

I'm surprised he didn't ask for us to remove his shackles

Sometimes Jackson gets sent to his room. Some days he gets sent to his room a lot. Like a few weeks ago when we were having a heat wave and couldn't go outside for more than 6 seconds (I timed it) before breaking out in a soul-drenching sweat. Being cooped up in an apartment for several days brings out the worst in everyone. And if you're wondering why we didn't go to the mall or a movie or something then let me remind you. So, anyway, Jackson spent quite a bit of time in his room before the school year started and, one day, I guess he'd had enough because he wrote this and slipped it out his door:

When I'm reminded of the sensitive man I married

David and I were discussing Sam's undesirable behaviors and how we're just not trained how to deal with them.

"We just need someone to come into our home and fix all his behavioral problems."

"We need Super Retard Nanny."

Listen and enjoy

Turn your sound up really loud and have a listen.



That is the sound of our sweet Sam yelling. Yelling is something he does a lot. Now some of the loveliness is lost in the recording but you can probably get the idea that this is not something you want to listen to everyday. But we, as his lucky family, do get to listen to this every damn day.

Here's what I want you to do. I want you to put this onto your iPod or other inferior portable MP3 player. Plug this into some portable speakers, put it on loop and turn it up loud. Now make a really important phone call.

Did you lock yourself in the bathroom so you could hear the other person on the phone? Fine, how about this: tenderly pick up the MP3 player and speakers. Is it bucking, kicking and scratching while yelling? No? Well, count yourself lucky. Now place it in a stroller or some other wheeled contraption and take it for a walk through a quiet neighborhood.

Still doing okay? Put it in the car and drive it to the nearest indoor shopping center. The echo is quite an enhancement and there are more people there to gape in horror.

Feeling a little hungry? Feeling a little brave? You go right ahead and take that thing into a restaurant.

Don't forget to keep it on at full volume for the car ride home. Are your ears bleeding yet?

Okay, last assignment: set it down in a room adjacent to two other rooms containing a man working from his home office in one and a teething and irritable toddler who just went down for a nap in the other.

How ya doing? Still sober?

Okay, then let's do this again tomorrow.

Bedtime brilliance

I had a brilliant thing to write about on my blog last night. I was in bed composing in my head a piece of writing that would have truly blown your mind (I can safely say this because, just wait, you'll see that you'll never actually get to read it). Immediately before I drift off to sleep is when I do my best writing. My mind seems to be a bit looser. I can usually have something laid out start to finish in my mind and all that is required is that I get out of bed and quickly jot it down before it slips away. But I was tired last night. I convinced myself that I would remember it in the morning. I didn't. Nothing. And I blame the children. They are the reason I am so tired at night. The fucking irony is the children are often the inspiration for my writing.