The Robe

Some people are robe-people. This means that they wear robes. My parents are both robe people. I still remember when I was growing up that my father's robe was a dark, dark navy blue with white pinstripes and my mother wavered between a blue terry cloth and a white terry cloth with small flowers on it.

When I was in college, my dad bought me a robe. I still have it, and I wear it a lot in the winter. It is red, and fleece, and the only problem with it is that I feel like I should be shuffling around in faded fuzzy pink slippers and smoking a cigarette.

It's a cozy robe, but it makes me feel a little frumpy. Sometime around the arrival of Dominic, I purchased myself a different robe. A dressing gown, if you will. It is white, cotton, breezy, 3/4 sleeves, mid-thigh...it is from Target. And it makes me feel like I should be holding an alcoholic beverage at 9 in the morning. Or maybe like I've just been released from a swanky rehab facility. And I'm not going to lie...there are mornings where I'd really like that sort of beverage, and weeks where rehab sounds like a vacay.

I keep these robes, and continue to wear them, partially because they are so dang comfy and it's handy to have something to toss over my pretend pajamas (tank top and yoga pants always) but I realized the other day there is another, deeper reason.

My children need me to wear these robes. I'm serious. Part of the memories of my robe-wearing parents is that my brother, sister, and I would steal the belts that belonged to the robes and transform them. They became lassos and halters and ninja headbands and implements with which to tie things to other things...hours of creative fun could be had with these robe belts. We got into some trouble with the belts....like if we used them to tie each other up, or used them to tie doorknobs together, rendering the occupant of the room unable to leave...but mostly, they inspired creativity of another dimension. Playsilks ain't got nothin' on robe ties.

So here is my plan. I am going to get rid of about half of the toys we own. And buy some more robes. With belts. That's all children need. Robe belts. Brilliant, right? Then, I'm going to market them en mass, and make a lot of monies. I'll probably get a book deal, and a large federal grant in order to study the incredible spatial, psycho-social, cognitive, emotional, etc etc effects that robe belts have on the young child's developing brain.

Then, I'll----oh. My Master has arisen. He demands a snack, the baby pool in the back yard, and that I fill his insatiable need for more water balloons. Ah well, duty calls. At least I have these comfy robes to don as I go about my day.

Off The Chain

OR off the cheezy if you spent any amount of time in high school listening to Jay-Z.

So I took a little unplanned blogging hiatus and missed my one year blogiversary. It was a few days ago, on the 15th. I think. I *just* checked but now I can't remember if that was the right day or not. Whatever. I definitely know that I have written 113 posts over the last year, which is kind of pathetic. I shall strive to do better. Except soonish I'll have a newborn plus a kindergartener (WHAT THE?) and a toddler. I'm sure the older two will play together all the time and form a little summer school co-op while I nurse the baby and type type type away. It will be swell. I guarantee it.

excuse me, but did you purchase those wilted tulips on Manager Special for a $1.99? Yes I did. When it comes to my children, I spare no expense.

May has been serious business....So far we've completed 2 First Holy Communions, a Wedding, and a Baptism (during which we became Godparents for the second time) along with an IEP meeting, Flying Pig Marathon festivities, a Blessingway for a wonderful friend of mine expecting her third girl-child, a ballet performance (Gianna) and lastly, yesterday, Gianna's 5th Birthday Party.

wedding

wedding

after wedding

 The birthday party was crazy. 30ish kids plus 18ish adults running around the backyard in bathing suits with water balloons and a sprinkler and kiddie pools* brought things to a new level of crazy at Casa de Schueler, but we like crazy here. Obviously. I made about 50 of these guys for the event.

mine didn't look quite this perfect...but they tasted the same amount of delicious

There was only one remaining...and I ate it. I deserved it. The aftermath looked like the morning after a frat party at the beach....damp towels draped over most surfaces, wet bathing suits huddled on the floor, empty beer bottles scattered throughout...

yeah...that's about right.

 When we throw a party, we throw a party. I have yet to mention that for the first hour of the bash Brad and most of the other dads were in the front yard with all the sons, watching a man try to move a landscape boulder from our front yard. See, we have this giant rock and next to it is a tree stump and I want the stump gone so I can make me a little flower bed but the stump is too close to the rock to get ground up so the rock needs to be moved but it's huge. So Brad put an add on Craigslist that said basically, "GIANT ROCK, FREE TO WHOEVER CAN MOVE IT."

Contestant number one arrived at about 2:05, about five minutes after the party started. Cuz that's fun. Apparently, this guy has goats, and they like to climb on things, so he goes around collecting large boulders for them. I promise, no one is paying me to make this up. It's the 100% truth. Alas, his truck and crane apparatus was no match for our rock (which he petulantly declared must weigh more than 1,000 lbs, since his crane should be able to lift 2,000 lbs. Later, our neighbor revealed that the previous owner of the house worked in a rock quarry, and had weighed the stone there, and it was 4,000 lbs.) So, the next person is bringing a Bobcat. We'll rid ourselves of this rock yet.

the singing of "Happy Birthday"..always momentous

 Up next for us is a trip to the Ville (Louisville) for the three day weekend. Then we'll be facing down the last day of school and, thank you Jesus, a week-long trip to the beach in Cape May, New Jersey. I'll have to wear my super-hot maternity bathing suit but there are worse things in life. I was going to try to tie in the crazy May busy-ness and the immoveable boulder into some sort of profound statement about the spiritual life of mothers of young children but I can't. Sometimes, you're just busy and there's a big rock in your front yard.

*I should clarify that it was just kids in bathing suits, and Brad was the only adult actually running around, because that's what he does.