What You Might Call a Mixed Blessing

Last night at around seven, our Very Elderly Neighbor drove up and gifted unto us a bushel basket of peaches from their tree.

Okay, three-quarters of a literal bushel basket. But I think we can all agree that is still a shitload of peaches.

I have a reputation, I suspect, as a person who will take free produce and turn it into something prepared in jars. No doubt our neighbors figured that gifting me with this shitload of peaches would result in a couple of jars of canned peaches on their doorstep in a few days.

They are right. 

They're very nice neighbors. They let A. hunt and trap and cut firewood on their considerable land. They give us fruit from the trees and bushes they can no longer manage themselves. Plus, they are both literally almost 100 years old. A person that age deserves some consideration.

I was still not entirely happy to see this basket appear, however. And that is because if I were to can all those peaches, I would end up with about 18 quarts of canned peaches, yes. Canned peaches are the best of all canned fruit, but that represents approximately 10 hours of kitchen work--including all the dishes resulting from canning peaches--that I really did not want to do.

I feel like a real jerk even saying that. Like, "Take your free, delicious peaches away! How dare you!" Stupid, right?

But still. Ten hours of peeling, jarring, boiling, and on and on and on is just not something I'm into right now.

But I did it, for a couple of hours this morning during nap/Curious George time for the children. I ended up with a pint of pureed peaches for yogurt and five quarts of peaches in syrup. Mostly I did it so I can give two of those quarts back to our neighbors.

I still have over half that basket to deal with. To be honest, I might not get through them all. But if some of them end up the compost, I suppose I'll just have to live with myself.

Surprise Photos

Cubby apparently used the camera at some point in the past few days. I didn't know he had until I was looking through the photos on the memory card and . . .

Woah there, crazy-eyed baby.

There were more random photos that I will save for your future enjoyment. I certainly enjoyed them.

Ahhhh

Okay, now THIS is what I've been envisioning with school starting: Cubby and Charlie at school and Jack sleeping. Really sleeping this time, not just pretending for fifteen minutes before crushing my hopes of quiet with desperate wailing.

That was yesterday. The desperate wailing was because he has a cold. The wailing continued all day yesterday and last night, but he's better this morning. And napping.

Bliss.

So how was Charlie's first day? He used the rotary egg beater in the sand table and made pancakes out of Play-doh. When I picked him up, they were out on the playground and he was coloring with chalk.

All was cool.

Dinner last night was a single-adult affair, just me and the children. Not my favorite, as you may recall, but it turned out to be quite amusing, because conversation between Charlie and Cubby went like this:

"The rule at my school is that you can't pick up ANY sticks on the playground. Not even a TWIG."

That was Cubby.

"The rule at my school is NO THROWING."

That was Charlie.

"The rule at my school is you don't have to ask to go to the bathroom." Cubby again.

"The rule at my school is you can't leave the playroom." Charlie again.

And so on and on and on. We are all now fully briefed on every rule at every school.

Now let's just hope they follow them.

And He's Off

Was Charlie nervous about starting preschool today? Was he quiet, anxious, a little bit timid?

HAAAAA. I kill myself.

The force that is Charlie will not be stopped.

Jack and I ushered Charlie into the playroom at the preschool--where he immediately made a beeline for the sand table and barely acknowledged my good-bye--wished his teacher luck (I sincerely hope she won't need it), and left. 

And then when we got home, Jack seemed really tired again, so I put him down for a nap.

So. One kid at big-kid school, one kid at preschool, one kid sleeping. I shall celebrate by cleaning my bathroom.

Peace out.

Edited to add: Jack woke up ten minutes after I posted this. I only got the tub and the sink cleaned. Oh well. Better than nothing.

I Can't Stand the Suspense

It is 6:38 a.m. Jack has been up (5 a.m.) and back down (6 a.m.). Charlie has been up (5:10 a.m.) and back down (5:11 a.m., because that clock was not yellow and that kid is not getting up at 5:10 in the morning). Everyone is currently still sleeping.

Both Cubby and Charlie started displaying symptoms of a cold yesterday. Of course they did. School--a.k.a. the Festival of Germs--has started. Charlie's first day of preschool is supposed to be today. Cubby shuffled up the driveway yesterday asking if he could stay home today. Jack was sneezing for most of the hour he was awake this morning.

So, who will go to school? One kid? Two kids? No kids? Is Jack going to be acting sick when he gets up from his entirely-too-early nap? How fun is today going to be?

Stay tuned . . .

The Morning Mom

4:50 a.m.--Up to nurse the baby.

5:05 a.m.--Begged A. to take the baby downstairs for me.

6:10 a.m.--Charlie appeared in my room whining and claiming he was "not wet."

6:11 a.m.--Charlie lost his ever-loving mind when I got up, realized he was soaking wet, and tried to take his urine-soaked pants off of him.

6:12 a.m.--Hauled a totally melting down Charlie downstairs so he wouldn't wake up the whole house, pulled off his wet pants and underwear and went back upstairs to get pants for him and my own clothes.

6:14 a.m.--Put on my clothes while Charlie shrieked and tried to throw all clothes off the table and onto the floor.

6:16 a.m.--Made my coffee with a shrieking, pantsless Charlie wailing on the kitchen floor at my feet.

6:19 a.m.--Forced pants onto Charlie by brute force.

6:20-6:35 a.m.--Sat in a chair restraining a still-shrieking Charlie until he calmed down enough to agree to a book.

6:36-6:45 a.m.--Exhausted monotone reading of "Little Sally Mandy" and "Little Brown Bear."

6:46 a.m.--Finally coffee. Also lunch-packing, milk-pouring, toast-making, and egg-scrambling.

7 a.m.- now--Dressing children, re-dressing Charlie after he pulled his pants off and hid them, picking up the incredible accumulation of detritus in the house from six people being in constant residence over the weekend.

Now a.m.: Screw this morning. Is it bedtime yet?