Under 200 Dollars

This proved the summer that Dave refused to suffer any further emasculation by the pink countertop in the main bathroom.

 The new shower curtain was impetus enough to inspire an entire renovation.

 Well, that and the stupid white-and-black gridded floor that stunk like toilet-training little boys and dirtied up at the slightest touch of the foot.

 Out, damn spot!  Out, damn floor, damn countertop, damn wall colour!

 In, in, in, new wall colour, cabinet colour, countertop and floor.

 Dave did all of this while I groaned in bed in the next room.

 Who knew that all I had to do was get out of the way?

 Be still, my beating heart - that floor.

 No, not tile - FibreFloor.  Easy peasy - all that's needed are many measurements (just to be sure), a pair of scissors and some caulking.  Yes, really.

Dave chose it all:  the countertop, the wall colour, the cabinet colour and the floors.  His decorating sense is far superior to mine.  He has inherited the home-dec gene directly from his mother, a very classy lady when it comes to shoes, handbags and dressing up the walls.  I thoroughly approve.

Joseph's kindergarten graduation, better late than never

 When I first started this blog Joseph was barely 11 months old.  Dare I say, look how far we've come? He loves wearing ties and has the confidence to do so even at school.

 He cuts quite the figure, doesn't he?  I readily admit to his charm and pray that it will be fashioned according to a heavenly purpose.  His teachers cornered me later that day at school to tell me how their hearts melted when they saw him burst into the schoolyard that morning with gelled hair and a shirt and tie.  "You don't understand," they told me.  Oh no, I do, I really, really do.

 Tie still in place, camera smile always ready.  And isn't that the most monochromatic kindergarten class that you have ever seen?  Not one child had a different hair colour other than dirty blond.  Not much ethnic diversity here; the gene pool runs a bit to the shallow end.  I like to think that my genetic contributions just might be vital.

 These kindergarten graduations are a little over the top, aren't they?  They do provide good photo ops, though.  At least for those mothers who think to put the camera in camera and not movie mode thus allowing for a bit of a clearer picture...

 Shoes on the correct feet can be left for grade one.  The great thing about the kids' school is that any siblings are always allowed out of class to attend the competitions, special celebrations etc. of their other siblings.  Thus, Ben and Jacob accompanied me to Joe's graduation.  For the life of me, I can't remember where Hannah was.  I think that Ben and Jacob came down to the kindergarten room more for the cupcakes than the memories.

And that's his principal whom he has completely and thoroughly charmed.  As she often tells me, "If you're ever wondering where Joe is, just check my house."

Summer Days

I know, I know, another photo of Sarah.  It's just that, at the moment, she seems to be the apple of my eye; well, the apple of the eyes of all family members.  She really is as sweet as any picture of her.

 She does have a very dirty bum, though.  This is completely due to her method of bum scooting, particularly filthy in the summertime.  She might look cute, but don't turn her over.

 She's laughing at Ben's attempts to help her walk around the yard.  Hannah walks her slowly round and round the house giving her time to place her feet and get used to a new method of ambulation.  Ben  operates with the same consideration as his older sister and Sarah walks easily under his tutelage.  However, Joseph and Jacob are an entirely different story.  Their speed is permanently geared for fun and Sarah can barely keep up when they help her 'walk'.  A look of fear passes over her face and she opts for her familiar bum-scoot.  This leads to Joseph and Jacob asking me why Sarah hates them.  "It has to do with trust, sons, not hate.  One day, when she is very late, she will appreciate your attempts."

Thought I had better throw blondie in for good measure.

 And what is summer without the hay?  The boys are growing and now insist on accompanying their dad to the fields where they alternate between sitting in the air-conditioned tractor, hurdling over windrows and resting atop the square bales on the hay wagon.  What a life.  Jacob, now a sturdy and broadening 10 years and 74 pounds, spends the day on the hay wagon shifting the 60-pound bales with the help of a hay hook and his developing muscles.  Grandpa Mike drives the tractor while Dave grabs the bales and throws them onto the wagon where Jacob is waiting.  I swell with pride to watch three generations of Afelskies work together to bring in the hay.  In 30+ degree heat, mind you.  Amazing to watch my oldest baby enter into the world of men.  What a wonderful and wholesome way to enter into that world.

 And my oldest girl babe?  Winning yet another poster contest.  This time she took third prize in the county dental health poster contest.  And if you could focus in on that cheque, you would see that it is for $50.  Judging by her poster success, I would say that she has a good side business going.  Jacob asked me this morning at breakfast if Dave or I had shares in any companies.  I laughed at his inquiry into our finances, thought of our financial profile and answered with a resolute no.  He responded, "Well, if you did, remember to always buy low and sell high."  Perhaps Hannah is willing to incorporate.

Seven Quick Takes, not linked

1.  I've read it before, but I think that it is worth writing it again:  There is some mysterious grace by which the mother gets sick last.  Dave thought that we, the parents, had dodged the stomach-flu bullet; but I knew better, at least in my case.  Exactly one week after the recovery of all the kids, I began to feel sore and achy and really tired.  Dave kept telling me that it was the high humidity.  I thought, "Well, I know that I don't do well with heat but I'm not usually that bad."  And then the three days of unrelenting nausea arrived like a thief in the night.  I bravely soldiered forward and kept supper on the table.  And in my tummy. I begged, pleaded and assaulted heaven with prayers of, "Please, no throwing up.  Please, no throwing up."  I am not one of those people for whom throwing up relieves the nausea.  Quite the opposite.  And, so, those prayers were answered.  And more than one person asked if there is another baby on the way.

2.  No.

3.  My mother-in-law actually asked Dave the aforementioned question in a funny, roundabout, sort-of way:  "Do you guys need a bigger van?"  Dave looked at her with a why on his face and she responded, "Someone told me that they heard that Elena is pregnant."  She wouldn't divulge her source.    Small towns.  I was left wondering about any empire-waisted dresses that I have worn recently.

4.  I am in the recovery stages of this illness:  about ready to change the sheets and get out of pyjamas.  Dave said that he has never seen me so relaxed in all our eleven years of marriage.  I asked him if he had enjoyed my absence.  He got a funny look in his eyes and said, "Well, the food wasn't that great." Truthfully, other than the pain, I sort of enjoyed these last three weeks.  I was forced off my feet and into super-relaxation mode.  I need to incorporate a lot more of this mode into my daily living:  it is a lot easier on everyone. And, while I spent the last few days near to one bathroom, Dave spent the last few days in the other bathroom... replacing the flooring and painting the walls.  All because we bought a new shower curtain.

5.  I also lost seven pounds over the last three weeks:  a combination of sickness and not eating much out of a desire not to get sick.  When Hannah heard, she asked, "Is this a good or bad thing?"  Hmmm. I don't think that it is easily maintained, though.

6.  Never use bleach before you go to bed.  Dave loves Scrubbing Bubbles.  I am not one for bleach, mostly because I always manage to ruin some item of clothing when using it.  However, after this sickness, I have been using Scrubbing Bubbles with a vengeance.  Last night, before bed, I sprayed the bathroom down with the offensive product.  The result was that my right hand reeked of bleach for the entirety of the night.  In fact, I woke with a start from a dream in which someone had thrown up on a bed and I had to run for the Scrubbing Bubbles and a cloth in order to clean up the mess.  Well, I did just that.  Except it was pitch black and I ran straight into the open closet door, whacking my left eyebrow.  I had to feel my way along the wall until I encountered a mirror above a sink which meant that I had finally found the bathroom.  I then turned on the light, grabbed the spray bottle and cloth and ran back to the wooden bedframe.  Which only existed in my dream.  We don't have a wooden bedframe.  I returned to the bathroom and found the Rescue Cream which I applied generously to my left eyebrow.

7.  I have been watching Doc Martin marathons since being laid-up.  They are hitting a little too close to home:  the last two were about a parasitic infection laying out the whole town and a family struck by salmonella.  Nevertheless, a Cornish fishing town and a brilliant doctor with no bedside manner have proved quite companionable over the last few days.

Back on track

Well, thank God that the above is over.  Long story made short:  all the kids went down within a matter of 24 hours.  Dave spent two nights sleeping on the living room floor managing three different buckets. The older kids were on their own and the baby managed to keep her fluid loss to a minimum.  Thankfully, mercifully, Dave and I missed the whole bug and remained healthy, if not exhausted.  Joseph was definitely hit the hardest and was laid out for a full six days.  This, my friends, is astounding.  Joseph is an incredibly high-energy little boy; thus, a week of Joseph sleeping, groaning and looking miserable is like a week without Joseph.  It was almost as if I signed him up for summer camp.

 We are now back to normal.  See, Sarah laughs in the face of sickness.  And her hair curls at the memory of it.  If there is one blessing to be found within this latest scourge, it is a slower entry into the season of fun.  We normally start summer in a high-speed train wreck.  The kids arrive home bringing loads of energy and expectations; Daddy arrives home exhausted and in need of a week of sleep; and I negotiate badly between the two spheres.  In fact, I usually present Dave with a list of expectations (and not much energy) and get angry when he fails to deliver within 24 hours of the closing of the school doors.  The result is never pretty.  Therefore, the whole house going down with a violent stomach bug actually helped us ease into summer with a week-ful of rest and getting used to each other again.  And for that I am thankful.

The sickness also forced me to take a week off from running which, in turn, helped with the healing of a few minor injuries.  Isaac kept up his training.  He finds running very soothing.  (I'll leave that joke with you.)  My early-morning run intentions have been confronted by the aches and pains of six babies and a body creeping slowly into early middle age.  I am sort of enjoying this slowing down.  I have never been a very relaxed person and, after 35 years, I think that I might just be starting to get a grasp on how to sit back and take things a little bit slower.
At least for this week.