Little Jane

It’s always a sad day when your kids favorite aunt or uncle starts a family of their own, because, suddenly your kids take second place to their own. So unfair. However, we have a bit of an anomaly in the Prusso family. Uncle Jeremy has always been a great uncle to my kids…as well as a great dad to his own. I guess he can split it both ways. He has a special bond with Jane, though—he can get her to sleep during Sunday School in about three minutes flat and she always has a particularly special, slobbery, wet kiss reserved for him.

He called me the other night and told me he’d written a song for her. He sang it to me over the phone…and I cried like a baby. He sang it for her the next day and she danced. I want him to sing it at her wedding. What do you think? You can find it here and it’s called “Little Jane.”

Whirlwind

Since my last post, we have been in a literal hurricane of events and people. Here are the highlights:


• Bringing Grandad and his chihuahua, “Precious” home with us from our Anniversary trip. He was in Tahoe at a elementary school reunion (there were only a handful of students still living).
My friend Krisanne and her three kids spending a week with us to avoid apartment living.
• Picking up my nieces Parly and Clayre at the airport to spend a WEEK! with us.
• Picking up Aunt Sadie and baby CJ at the airport.
• Nana and Papa driving up through Tahoe to spend a few days.
• Daisy & Shayne bringing my other two nieces.
• A trip to the farmers’ market with a bizillion kids.
• CJ’s dad finally showing up…can’t remember his name.
• Fireworks and a fourth of July extravaganza with volleyball, tri-tip, rootbeer floats, and freezing fog.
• Lots of open water swimming at del valle.
• Lily getting baptized by her dad with all of her favorite p people to share that with her.
• Finally getting rid of everyone, only to begin the process of packing for a week of camping at Tahoe.
• Camping at Livermore’s “Camp Shelly” in Tahoe.
• Swim, swim, swim, canoe, and play in the sand at Tahoe.
• Revel in the fact that there were NO bears this year.
• Eat some amazing food.
• Survive a hailstorm.
• Survive camping with an eighteen-month old, a three-year old, a six-year old, and an eight-year old.
• Come home to mountains of laundry, 43 thirsty chickens, and a ripe crop of tomatoes.
• Pull off an impromptu tea-party for my three-year old Princess Alice.
• Our first week of summer that’s q u i e t. Reveling in quiet time, bed time and…no that’s all.


Pictures: Alice with her birthday cake
Sadie and I with CJ
Grandad, Precious, and Jane
Jane at Tahoe
Canyon, Alice, Jane & Derek

Holiday

Our Cabin "Pinon"

Dustin and I finally took a weekend away. It was our anniversary and we haven’t been a night away from the kids for several years. I was nervous at first, but by the end of the trip I was ready and willing and wishing that we could stay away at least a year or so longer. It was so GREAT! (no offense to the kids). We went and stayed at this little resort in the Sierras, just off of highway 88. We’ve often driven that way from Tahoe and have always wanted to spend more time there. The place that we stayed, Sorensen's, was amazing. We had our own little two-person cabin, set in the most beautiful place imaginable. We ate all of our meals out on their little deck, amidst mountain flowers and lots of butterflies, and went hiking and to some hot springs, just laid in a hammock, read, slept in, ate and ate, and even had time to fit in a movie at the nearest little town. I’m not quite ready to come back to reality, but to reality we are and we hit it HARD.

Thanks to Grandma Laurie who exhausted herself with our four angelic children…probably she didn’t even have to lift a finger, they’re so perfect. She should really be thanking us.

Where we ate our meals.

On Farming: Of Life and Death

I am officially a very successful mother hen. Apparently it’s not easy to hatch chicken eggs, so in anticipation of being very bad incubators…we decided to start with 48 eggs. The idea being that several wouldn’t be fertilized, several wouldn’t develop right, and several would be instantly killed by curious little hands. We were thinking that we’d get, maybe, 20. So after three weeks (21 days exactly) of monitoring temperature, turning the eggs three times a day, and sleepless nights of worry because I believed that I “cooked” them—by the way, pregnancy’s a breeze—the eggs began hatching.

It began on the 20th day when I was turning the eggs and heard some distinct chirping. In surprise, I stopped turning the eggs and the sound stopped. I thought maybe there was a bird hiding out in the basement or something…but I couldn’t find one. I continued to turn and, there it was again. I thought I was a little crazy, so I called Jeremy and he said: “Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, you can hear the birds chirping through the eggs. It means that they’re getting close.” Minor detail.

That night, while we slept, three chickens hatched. By the time I got home from swimming there were six. After breakfast, there were eight. By that night there were fourteen. By the next morning, twenty. And throughout the day, the counting finally stopped at forty-two. So, as a mother hen, I’m 95%. The rooster, apparently, was a great fertilizer (as any who are willing to observe the chickens for more than five minutes can tell you), most developed well (we got a couple who couldn’t walk), and they weren’t killed by curious hands…oh wait, yes, they were. We lost seven after the mob of “gentle” children-handling. So. Thirty-five chicks. Anyone interested in adopting a few?



On a different note. The rooster had now fulfilled his usefulness, and seeing how he was starting to attack the children, we decided to KILL it. Jeremy came over with a hatchet and did the job. I will spare you the details, but for anyone who’s interested, I filmed it and you are welcome to view it at your next visit (no, I’m not going to put it up on youtube). Suffice it to say, chickens do really run around for several minutes after their head is severed from their body. We are expecting at least one of the thirty-five new chickens to replace him. The rest we’ll eat.

All in a days work on the farm.

Confessions of a Chart-Challenged Mother and the Permanent Repercussions to her Oldest Daughter.

Ok. So Lily’s always coming to me with these “theoretically” great ideas about how to organize things. Anything. It could be about cleaning, or cooking, or discipline, or practicing the piano, or anything, really. I usually give her a smile, a enthusiastic “Good idea” and then drop it, because, I guess I’m not much of a chart mom. Lily should’ve been born in my sister Daisy’s family…because she’s great with charts. Here’s an example of one of Lily’s charts…no kidding, she comes up with this stuff on her own. It’s pretty good. (Disregard the handwritten rules, these were written in by some unruly uncle)



So I was lamenting about this one day to my sister-in-law, Trieste, about how I was not a good mom because I couldn’t be the organized chart lady that Lily obviously thinks I should be. So Trieste decided that for Lily’s birthday she was going to make her a planner. Just something that an organized 2nd grader needs. So we had a wonderful birthday for Lily and she got, among other things, Trieste’s planner. She was polite about all her presents and thanked everyone…but I was unsure of how the planner was going to go over until the next morning. Lily was already ready for school and was waiting on Canyon to get ready and I saw her in the living room, without her knowing that I was watching, hugging her planner. I guess it’s official. Lily did inherit something, besides her freckles and red hair, from her dad.

Princess Alice

I know that Alice is much a topic of interest on this blog—but she’s at an extremely interesting age and she’s funny and difficult and she makes you want to cry with laughter or with pure frustration. This is, once again, another Alice story…so take it for what it is. We were having a particularly lovely morning which included the mandatory fits of uncharacteristic rage for dressing and combing hair and general getting readiness. However, after we were finally dressed in a pink dress and, what Alice likes to call, her glass slippers (they are really some pink ballet flats that Hannah got her for Christmas), we were ready to go to COSTCO. As we were walking in the door the lady that checks the validity of the Costco card, said: “Well, aren’t you the prettiest princess I ever saw.” Alice gasped. How could this random lady know that she’s a princess? Was this one of her secret, but loyal, subjects? Perhaps she was a lady-in-waiting who had been banished to Costco by a previous princess.

At any rate, the question begged to be asked, and so I asked it: “How did you know?”

Costco lady: “Oh, I know, I have a princess of my own. She’s thirty-nine years old.”

I got a little emotional at this admission. I’m not sure if I was nostalgic for this woman and her now grown little princess, or if I was in utter despair at the thought of waiting on Princess Alice, hand and foot, for at least thirty-seven more years.

Alice: “Look at my glass slippers.”

Costco lady, with much attention and with very accurate and majestic intonations, fit for a princess: “Those are the most beautiful glass slippers I have ever seen.”

Alice graciously beamed as we pushed into the store, talking merrily of her glass slippers and the “sprinkles” in her hair (leftover glitter from her haircut). She really is a princess. Now when do I become the queen?

World's Greatest Mom: Me

The Boys in their Sword Shirts.

On the Boat, ready to sail.

Demolishing the cake with any implements of destruction we can find.

So, I know you’re wondering how I managed to gain this most coveted title. Well, all it takes is to take your now six-year-old son and his boy cousins (except the Ceej and Arthur) sailing on a really, really windy day. Let’s be honest, though, they would’ve been happy to play on the boat in the marina, maybe even motor out of the marina for a bit, let alone sail with gale force winds. Wait, strike that, they were TERRIFIED of the gale force winds…they calmed down as soon as we took the sail down and started back for the safety of the docks. Besides terrifying and delighting them in one fail swoop…I managed to get even more points by making them all matching sword t-shirts, eat a pirate ship cake practically with our bare hands, and even find time to find a jelly-fish with papa Scott. A BIG thanks to papa Scott who took us out on the boat and who wins the honor of World’s most courageous grandpa…not afraid of little boys on an expensive sailboat, and a lot of white flour and sugar…along with lots of rum (root beer). That’s sort of a long title, but he deserves it. Anyway, we had a great birthday out on the bay and it was beautiful and there was, suddenly, a LOT of wind.

On a different note, Lily and Kaia spent the weekend with papa Scott and Katrina and had a wonderful time at a production of “High School Musical” in the city and learning about organic food, zero waste, composting, farmer’s marketing, eating locally, and honing their marketing ideas for their restaurant: “Cousins in the Kitchen.” Thanks to Katrina for loving those girls as much as they love her.

We’re halfway through the birthday season…sigh…just a few more to go.