It's autumntime, it's autumntime, the leaves are falling down...

Well, they were falling down, a month ago, when I took these pictures. Now the leaves are gone and it's a frozen tundra outside. Sigh. I get really sad when fall ends and winter begins.

Ben raked a really small pile for the kids to jump in. He usually prefers to just mow the leaves up. So much easier than raking. I took a few pics while Ben was rigging up the lawn mower.

Sadie:

Oh, what a cheesy face:

Dylan:

Again, cheesiness abounds. Like in the New Moon movie I just saw. Hahaha! I really did love it, but cheesy mania: "I just couldn't imagine living in a world where you didn't exist..." Blah blah blah. Man up, Edward!!! I am a staunch Team Jacobite. Yes I am.

I love this next grouping of pictures. Dylan ran and jumped into the leaves, while shooting at the leaves with his gun:

And then realized that he couldn't find the bullet:

Shooting at the leaves wasn't such a good idea, after all. Ben eventually found the bullet. And I haven't seen that toy gun since that day. Toys are so important for like one day. And then the kids don't care about them anymore.

My kids play HARD.

I'm really surprised I haven't had to take them to the hospital for play-related injuries. Seriously. Sadie's injuries are a little less intense than the boys' injuries. I think it's because she's the biggest bully of them all. Last night, Dylan came running into the bathroom while I was bathing Micah, screaming that Sadie had poked both of his eyeballs with her fingers. She is vicious. I put her in time out for the rest of the evening. Eye-gouging is unacceptable. "We must not embrace violence." What movie is that from? Ten points.

So here are Sadie's very small play-related injuries. A little scratch in the middle of her forehead, next to a smudge of ketchup:

That same scratch thing:

A scratch above her right eyebrow:

Dylan - bruise on his cheek:

And this one is from school - a bump on the noggin:

He said a kid jumped off the big toy at school and landed on him, and his forehead whammed against the cement. Sweet.

My poor little Micah has even received some injuries:

Apparently, the three of them were jumping on the bed, and Micah ricocheted off Dylan and into a nearby dresser. I was pretty mad.

Dylan's school has this entire week off, and it has been a nightmare. He is so intensely overwhelming. He reminds me of the Tazmanian Devil from Looney Toons. Just a tornado, going from room to room, shouting, yelling, running into people and hurting them, and creating enormous messes. In the summer, it's not so bad, because I can send him outside. I feel guilty sending him outside when it's 25 degrees. It's been a looooooooong week. And it's only Tuesday. I just wish he would calm down. Maybe I'll get lucky and he'll get sick. :)

Taking a Page from Black-Eyed Sue's Book

I go to this website daily for ideas on how to do Sadie's hair. The woman who started the site (she calls herself Black-Eyed Sue) has stopped posting, but I still go back to all of her earlier posts to come up with ideas. The bows I use were so disorganized - I had them all just stuffed into a small drawer. I followed Sue's suggestion and used an old shoe organizer to organize the bows:

Voila. It has made my life so much more simple. Hooray for organization!!

Like this.

Sadie loves her some eggs. She would be happy to have eggs at every meal. She can't remember the different names for the different styles of eggs, especially her favorite, hard boiled. So she says, "I want my eggs like this." And then she'll hold her hand like this:

Somehow, holding her hand with her fingers together signifies "hard boiled."

You live in Idaho.

I got this forward today and it made me laugh so hard. It is soooo true:



If someone in a Home Depot store offers you assistance and they don't work there, you live in Idaho.



If you've worn shorts and a parka at the same time, you live in Idaho.



If you've had a lengthy telephone conversation with someone who dialed the wrong number, you live in Idaho.



If you measure distance in hours, you live in Idaho.



If you know several people who have hit a deer more than once, you live in Idaho.



If you have switched from 'heat' to 'A/C' and back again in the same day, you live in Idaho.



If you install security lights on your house and garage but leave both unlocked, you live in Idaho.



If you can drive 75 mph through 2 feet of snow during a raging blizzard without flinching, you live in Idaho.



If you design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit, you live in Idaho.



If driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow, you live in Idaho.



If you know all 4 seasons: almost winter, winter, still winter, and road construction, you live in Idaho.



If you find 10 degrees 'a little chilly', you live in Idaho.

Pets have emotions, too.

Let's get you up to date on the Xena happenings around here.

After I took the kittens to the Nazi Humane Society Lady's house, I thought for sure that Xena would stop peeing and pooping on our beds, piles of laundry, laundry baskets, blankets, etc. I really felt that, while the kittens were here, she had been somehow asserting her territory or whatever, because these behaviors had started a couple of weeks after the kittens were born.

But after the kittens left, her behavior stayed the same. Bodily fluid mania.

She got spayed about a week after the cats left, and I thought for sure that would do the trick. Get those hormones outta there. But she came home and continued to release bodily fluids in inappropriate areas. I was just about to cause Xena to Peace Out of our household. I called Nazi Humane Society Lady to see if she would just take Xena back and re-adopt her out. I was on my last limb. NHSL said, "Oh, she must have a UTI."

Wha?

I guess that when cats have UTI's, they pee in inappropriate areas. Or when they're mad. I didn't see what she had to be mad about, honestly. So I took her to the vet to get her pee tested. Seventy-five dollars later, I found out that she did NOT have a UTI. Sweet. I love throwing $75 down the toilet. It's my favorite thing.

The vet told me that, most likely, Xena was pissed about something. Get it? Pissed? I'm so funny. And then the vet gave me Cat Antidepressants:

Okay, maybe "antidepressants" is a strong word. They're all-natural, like St. John's Wort for humans. But still. To have to give a cat all-natural anti-depressants really is ludicrous to me.

Along with the ludicrous product came this ludicrous pamphlet:

Puh-lease.

May I just quote from an e-mail my dear friend Patty sent me at this time about this topic?:

"Xena is on ANTI-DEPRESSANTS!? They make those for animals? That's nuts! Why is she stressed? If her job too hard for her? Is she having financial problems? Did she recently suffer a bad break up? What on earth would a cat be stressed about?"

No one can put things better than Pats.

Despite the ludicrousness of the situation, I started to give Xena her anti-depressants, just in the interest of my own sanity. Yes, I could have made her Peace Out, but I'm still feeling really guilty about getting rid of two earlier pets. Xena could have blown up my house and I still wouldn't get rid of her. I just can't take the guilt. Or the stigma that has been attached to me because of those pet-getting-rid-of tendencies - Kar is a Cold-Hearted Snake.

At about the same time I started these anti-depressants, we were finally able to let Xena out. We couldn't let her out from the time she had her kittens until she got spayed, because she could have gotten knocked up again. And then we had to wait another week for her stitches to heal and whatnot. When we were finally able to let her out, we figured out what had made her so pissed - she wanted to go outside.

I stopped giving her the drops, um, mainly because I kept forgetting to do it, but we haven't had a problem since we started letting her outside.

Thank heavens.

So now she goes inandoutandinandoutandinandout like a million times a day, but I'm happy to oblige as her official door-opener. As long as she keeps her bodily functions confined to the litter box.

And by the way, I only have to clean her litter box like once every two weeks. She's been doing all of her business outside, even in this freezing weather. I'm loving it. The smell of litter makes me gag.

You may recall that, when we first got Xena, we let her out just once, and in that just once, she got lost and knocked up. She was miraculously found and brought back to our house. So Sadie gets really nervous about letting Xena out. We keep reassuring her that Xena has been out a ton and always comes back now, but Sadie isn't convinced. I have to covertly let Xena out; otherwise I get yelled at by a very overprotective and angry four-year-old. If Xena is in the same room as Sadie, I don't even try. When Sades is around, Xena is left to pine for the outdoors until I can sneak her out:

I keep the anti-depressants around, just in case she has a relapse. Those suckers cost me like $10.

Soooooooo dry.

Is anyone else having this problem? Yes, it looks like I grated my knuckle on a cheese grater or something, but actually, it's my dry, cracking, bleeding skin. I'm putting lotion on like seventy times per day. Yikes. Bikes.