A Rat Is Discovered In a Neighbor's Backyard

I woke up with a horrible headache, so I decided that the boys needed a day of PE. It was a beautiful day, perfect for teaching the boys how to play baseball, which I did after Nathaniel, Bradford and I took a short field trip to see a dead rat and scoop it into a bag for my neighbor.

Baseball is an interesting sport when played with a 3, 5, and 7 year-old. The boys won 3-1, since I couldn't continue playing because my head was throbbing. Instead, I sat and watched them play and play and play.

They played outside longer today than any other day in their lives, I think. From 9 this morning till 7:30 this evening, Bradford and Benjamin were in only long enough to eat dinner. The real miracle was there were very few kerfuffles. Even when they were playing with our neighbors, peace reigned. At one point, our 8 year-old neighbor Jessica had three children. Her sister Julian was a baby, Nathaniel was 5, and Benjamin was 1. He's very precocious for a 1 year-old, and big and ugly, too. I think he just wanted an excuse to talk in his silly voice.

Bradford very sweetly pulled Gracey around in her coupe. She's so tiny it looked like he was pulling a hat around. And then he very roughly pulled our neighbor Chace around. He would crash the coupe into a tree, and Chace would fall out. They seemed to enjoy the game, and no one complained, so we let them go.

And now I'm mourning the loss of my fudge. I ate so much last night that my stomach hurt, but it was worth it. This morning I told Mark to take it to school so I wouldn't be tempted to eat the whole pan (I did, however, snuckfully snatch a bit for breakfast). I meant for him to bring home manageable bits for me to eat for the next several days, but he gave it to the teachers. WAAAA. I drowned my sorrow by eating marshmallows (those captured when all the armies were killed), but I'm still feeling a hollow spot that I'll try to fill by eating some ice cream.

Where did the fudge come from? Glad you asked. The short answer is my good friend Becky gave me some. The long answer is the remainder of this post.

We went to Logan's birthday party yesterday afternoon. I had jokingly mentioned to Mark that I could go to church with our friends and he could put the boys down to bed. He thought it a good thought, and even offered to keep Gracey. I joyfully submitted. So, there I was in a 15-passenger van on the Sawgrass Expressway when we ran out of gas! We were rescued almost immediately by friends on their way to the same church.

I didn't have my Bible with me, so I sat next to Kilby, whose Bible was the size of a pack of cigarettes and was printed in 2 pt type.

Someone had given Becky about 15 pounds of fudge, so she gave me one of the trays. When I got home, Mark was busy doing some schoolwork, so I ate as much of the fudge as I could, knowing that as soon as he was finished working, he would tell me to lay off. I think he worked too long.

OOPS. I forgot to tell about my trip to Target on Saturday. I needed to get Ben some sandals, and I ended up getting myself a swimming suit as well. AGH. Now that I have four children, the sight of me in a swimming suit is NOT a pretty one. Very depressing. But one funny thing happened when I was trying them on. The boys were in the cart talking together, and I heard one of the BLT's ask when I was coming out. Nathaniel promptly responded that I was never going to come out. But come out I did, much humbler and nearer depression than when I went in. It's a good thing Mark has his sweet baby girl who looks absolutely delicious in her little swimsuit.

Poor guy. He'd probably be happy to buy me some fudge if only I'd iron his shirts. I haven't done our darks for two weeks, and what few shirts are clean are wrinkled. While I was sitting here writing this blog, he ironed a shirt to wear tomorrow. Then he asked if I would iron some of his shirts tomorrow, if I had time. Of course I won't have time- I never have time. What's so bad about wrinkles, anyway? If I could just convince him it's a fashion statement...