A faulty internet connection and a gnat...

The above-mentioned are the reasons there has been no Wesley blog. Let me explain. The other night, I wrote a blog about Wesley. I spent about a long time selecting pictures, and then tried to upload them. It always takes a long time, which is part of the reason I didn't blog for so long. But in this case, after an hour of uploading, the router glitched and I lost not just the pictures, but the entire blog.

Chris ran to my aid. This could be because he was alarmed by the curses flowing from my lips. Or it could be because he works on computers for a living and likes a challenge. Who knows. As we were bent over my laptop, trying to retrieve what had been lost, a gnat casually flew up my nose. No, I am not kidding. This happens to me ALL THE TIME. I'll be sitting there, minding my own business, and a gnat will fly purposefully toward me and before I can so much as swat at it, the darned thing flies up my nose. I've been complaining about this phenomenon for years now. I'd say it happens two to three times per week, on average. And it's not even like we're overrun with gnats. Ever since a friend told me to topcoat the soil in the houseplants with sand, we hardly ever even see a gnat in the house. But if there is one single one anywhere in a twelve mile radius, it will find me. And fly straight up my nose without hesitation.

Anyway, after years of my complaining, Chris finally saw it happen. He swears he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. But he did. So he laughed. Eventually, he went and got me a kleenex, because I was screeching and flailing. The gnat was not recovered. They never are. Somewhere, deep in my sinus cavity, is a large collection of dead gnats. Chris would like me to state for the record that this is perhaps the most disgusting thing I've ever put on my blog. (It isn't, because if you'll recall, I once regaled you with the exciting tale of how Meanie threw up on my head in the middle of the night.)

Eventually, I will rewrite the Wesley blog. But not now. Now I have to go get a kleenex. Another gnat just flew up my nose. Sadly, I am still not kidding.

My Long-suffering Eldest...

Next in my kid showcase is Gabe, my eldest. What can I say about Gabe? Let's see...he's eleven years old and starting to tiptoe into the waters of adolescence. He is easily embarrassed by his younger brother at school. For instance, if his younger brother were to come out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and go up to Gabe to ask for help with his zipper, that would be embarrassing. If Timothy told Gabe's classmates a story about the time he (as a baby) used Gabe's...erm...private parts...as a means of pulling up when they were in the shower together, that would be unspeakably embarrassing. What can I say, the two of them are like oil and water. They know how to push each others' buttons and most days, I should just don a black and white striped shirt, pull out my old lifeguard whistle and start calling their fights. But that is neither here nor there.

Gabe is starting to show interest in girls. Well, girl might be more accurate. He's sensitive and kind toward his poor, outnumbered mama most of the time, and he adores his youngest brother. He would take him to school if he could. He's good at helping around the house, and therefore, completely unwilling to do it. Chris has him mowing the lawn. Let me tell you about how much he likes that.

Gabe fun facts:

• He hates his teeth. He won't smile with teeth, and looked so sullen in his school picture that I made him do retakes. Where he looked only slightly less sullen and assured me that look was his best smile.
• He hates Justin Bieber. Loathes. Despises. But that has not stopped him from wanting to wear his hair longer, in what is suspiciously like a Bieber haircut. Don't tell him I said that. He'd kill me.
• He still has Senior Bear. He still sleeps with Senior Bear. And in the mornings and right before bed, he wears Senior Bear around his neck like a scarf. Don't tell him I said that. He'd kill me.
• School is a struggle right now. He loves reading, art, music, PE and hanging out with a certain girl who shall remain nameless. He hates studying. He hates social studies, science and being told what to do by teachers.
• Life's goal: To be a writer. He hates to write, but this doesn't seem to dissuade him from writing as a career.

Here he is, practicing archery with his bff. Do boys have bffs? I don't know the answer to this. I'll ask him tomorrow in front of his friends. He'll probably be horribly and unspeakably embarrassed.

Despite not liking school science, he loves real life science. Here he is, balancing some eggs on end.

I told you he wears Senior Bear like a scarf.

Ha! Teeth! Caught him off guard!

He calls Wesley "Wiggles" and Wesley adores him! He used to scare me hauling Wesley around the house and yard, but he hasn't dropped him yet. He did let him fall off a bed the other day, but babies are made of rubber, so there were no major injuries.

Gabe is funny. His sense of humor rivals that of most adults. He is proud of looking like his Popple. He is loving and so stubborn that I sometimes want to strangle him. He is sarcastic. I have no idea where he learned that. Really. He's a good kid, and I don't know what I ever did before I had him around to keep me in line.

My Misunderstood Middle Man

I wanted to write a blog on each of the boys, to document what they've been up to these days. It seems only natural to start with Timothy, since he is firmly convinced that he is unloved and I seem to spend most of my time trying to prove that I do, in fact, love him. Ah, the life of the middle child!

Timothy is six years old now, and in kindergarten. He reads as well as your average 3rd or 4th grader. He is silly, zany and ridiculous. He is the epitome of a difficult child. He is an accomplished mimic, he adores music, but most of all, he loves to torment his older brother. He really has a talent for it. Above and beyond most siblings, I think. Here are some Timothy fun facts:

• Life's goal: To become a jet-setting young music mogul. Yes, these were his exact words. When asked if he knew what that meant, he answered, "Yeah, a rock star. Like Justin Beaver, only a boy."
• Tonight he informed me out of the blue, "I like to sit in oatmeal. I pretend I'm a spoon."
• He doesn't like to be called by all three names. Upon hearing himself called by his full name, he exclaims, "Aaaaw, MAN! I got all my names filled in!"
• He has been receiving phone calls from a girl in his class. The first time she called, he spent a full five minutes on the phone with her before asking, "Who is this, anyway?"
• At school, he loves PE, computer, going to first grade for reading and lunch. Lunch especially.
• Least favorite school subjects include music and art, which are "boring".

• Despite hating music at school, he listens to music nonstop. The Psalty the Singing Songbook series is his current favorite. He recently told me that his favorite song is "I've got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy, down in my heart! Down in my heart TUESDAY!"
• Timothy played soccer last fall. At the end of the season, he had not scored a single goal. This minor fact didn't disturb him in the least, so that's good.
  

Every now and then, Timothy decides he wants to hold Wesley. It's adorable. It normally lasts four seconds. Sometimes five. Then Wesley pulls Timothy's hair or pinches him or spits up and Timothy screams. I had to take this picture really fast.

This is what most of my current pictures of Timothy look like, unless he doesn't know I'm taking them. I'd say we have 75% silly faces, 20% pouting because I told him to stop making silly faces and 5% candid shots.

He's actually pretty cute when he's not making silly faces or pouting.

Doing a bit of Wii Fit yoga. He only does the one pose, but he does it a lot. Sometimes for an hour at a time. He's going to have very flexible sides, with all the half moon poses.

Timothy is a laugh a minute. He is a joy, he is a trial, and more often than not, he is the bane of my very existence. He has had stitches four times in less than two years. FOUR TIMES. My hair is going to turn gray, and when it does, it will be Timothy's doing. He drives me insane and I love him dearly. Life must have been very dull indeed before Timothy!

A happy little story

Once upon a time, there was a precious substance. This substance was known as "free time". There wasn't much of it, especially not around here. Then one day, we had Wesley. He was a good baby. Neigh, a GREAT baby. He was sweet and smiley and happy. But there was one drawback. He didn't sleep during the day. Ever. He was awake 14 hours a day pretty much every day. He slept all night, and that was nice. But at night, I needed to sleep, too. He also liked to be held. A lot. And since he was sweet and smiley and happy...I held him. A lot. This made doing anything else challenging. Free time was nowhere to be found.

Days went by, and then weeks. Wesley grew...

And grew...

And grew some more!

And he was cute. And sweet and smiley and happy. But he still didn't sleep much.

The house grew filthier and filthier, and I despaired. I forgot important things, like sending the kindergarten snack and combing my hair. I looked frazzled. More than usual, even.

And then one day, Wesley started crawling. And then he was sweet and smiley and happy...and MOBILE. The house got cleaned, because it had to be. (Well, and because I threatened the rest of the family within an inch of their lives and forced them to help.) And Wesley was slightly more willing to be on the floor and not be held all the time. And he even occasionally took a nap. Tiny little bits of free time started appearing here and there. I combed my hair and remembered to send the kindergarten snack. And there was much rejoicing.

The end.

Lessons I've learned whilst residing in a wind tunnel...

For those of you who don't live in Oklahoma, I would first like to inform you that it is windy here. Unduly so. That part in the song, "Where the wind comes sweeping down the plain", well let it suffice to say that they are not. even. joking. In fact, "sweeping down the plain is, particularly in the spring, a bit of an understatement. In fact, I think most days the plain is just happy if the wind doesn't sweep it right into another state.

I have now lived in Oklahoma for nearly 15 years. You'd think by now I would have learned everything there is to know, but no, the wind taught me an entire series of lessons today. I present them, for your edification.

1. On a very windy day, bumblebees get tired of the wind. They make seek refuge inside.

2. Five house cats are apt to notice a bumblebee the size of a hummingbird well before you do.

3. Cats who have discovered a large, loud buzzing thing in their house will immediately think it is some new game and give chase.

4. Five house cats giving chase is going to get your attention pretty fast.

5. A large bumblebee who has just been chased by five cats is going to be in a very bad mood. All your attempts to remove it from the house will be met with threats of violence.

6. On any day windy enough to drive a bumblebee indoors, it is not a good idea to try to go outside and clean bunny cages.

7. A 2x4' bunny tray, upon being caught by gale force winds, will come at your face at an alarming rate. In doing so, it will dump its unsavory contents, and in all likelihood, said contents will become an unsavory shower.

8. If you ever have any questions about whether or not you have hay fever and a tray full of dirty hay showers you, you can immediately find out. Hint: If you sneeze 27 times in 5 minutes, the answer is yes. And if you count the sneezes...well, you're probably a little weird.

9. If your back door is not well latched it will blow open with astounding force.

10. If you are bent over directly behind the door when this happens, busy scooping the cat box, it will probably hit you in the backside and propel you face-first into the litter box.

There, you're enlightened! And now I'm going to take another shower.