Home sweet blog home: my, what a mess...

I have been very neglectful of my blog-home lately. In fact, I think I saw some dust bunnies over there in the corner when I stepped in before. Sorry for the mess. What can I say? It's summer. I have been outside with my boys, ripping up flower beds, making mud puddles for the Fellers to splash in. And spending as much time as possible with the Hubz when he is not working. He has been working quite a bit at his part time job lately to tie up some loose financial ends, so I spend any minutes that he is a) awake and b) here with him.

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Actually, I have a mini-anecdote about the mud puddles. I have a sidewalk that runs past one of my garden beds. Two of the slabs have started to settle inwards toward each other, making a shallow V, so a nice little muddy wading pool forms whenever I water the garden. All three Fellers have discovered what fun it is to jump, splash, and even stick their faces in the watery mud. The watery mud triclkes down their little faces leaving a muddy beard and mustache. It sounds gross, but is really funny. Hey, I wash it right off, honest! I purposely water the depression to make the puddle deeper for their jumping enjoyment. I figure, a little dirt never hurt anyone. One thing about second, third and fourth children: you care less about mussing them. You are confident that they scrub off well and there is a pink little cherub under all the grub. So when dirt is around, you let 'em have at it. It keeps them out of your hair, and it is all good fun as long as no one is getting hurt.

Anyway, back to the puddle. I have new neighbors moving in acros the alley where the sidewalk/puddle faces. One day, they were moving some things in while I was watering the back garden, so my back was momentarily turned on the muddy festivities. The boy in the family, he must be about ten, called out to me incredulously, "Hey, did you know your kids were playing in the mud?" To which I retorted, somewhat absently, "Oh, yeah, I made that puddle for them." He stared at me, his eyes as big as saucers, chin dropped down to his chest, "Oh." It was then I realized I probably made a wonderful first impression on them as the madwoman with mud-encrusted children.

Another thought: are boys, or girls--I guess children--really socialized by ten years old these days that getting dirty is a bad thing? If so, that is sad.

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Recently, because I don't have enough to do, I decided to add a few more morsels to my plate. Yes, I got the idea in my thick skull (and once an idea takes root there, well it is kind of like a weed, it just grows and grows, deper and stronger, sucking up all resources and starving out all sense) that I needed a new garden in the back yard behind the garage in the baren spot where nothing grows and all the leaves in southeastern Wisconsin wind up in the fall. Right now, the back yard is devoid of any personality. It has only the ancient air conditioner unit and, well, weeds, mostly dandelions. Actually, I like a lawn full of dandelions; it is really pretty when they are all in bloom. At least I tell myself that because, while I enjoy gardening, I hate lawn care.

Anyhow, for this garden digging project, I have been lugging the bricks to border my new masterpiece that I dug up from around the maple tree about four years ago and that have since found themselves involved in several other projects around the yard including holding down garbage can lids and lining the yard along the alley to pop the tires of drunk drivers, snow plows and garbage trucks that want to veer into the lawn. Then I dragged the old race car toddler bed from where it has been holding up the wall in the garage for the last three years and placed it strategically in the middle of the two new garden beds. I am going to fill it with sand eventually, let the Fellers use it as a sandbox, but for now the Fellers are enjoying it just fine on top of the mudhole. Man, my bathtub is getting a work out this year, I tell you.

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Additionally, I have been feeding my fitness addiction lately. Since the Fellers have been mobile, I have been very devoted to losing the extra fifty pounds of twin pregnancy weight by getting fit. I don't diet well. I love food way too much, so basically I eat whatever, but I do work out religiously, mostly on the exercise machine in my living room that stares accusingly at me if I neglect it. I worked my way up to getting into shape slowly at first: three days a week, then four, now almost every day. Fifteen minutes, then twenty, now at least a half an hour. The Fellers have learned that they need to sit quietly and watch their movie while I exercise or go directly to the isolation chamber. Anyway, I am to the point now where the exerciser isn't enough of a workout anymore so I have taken up distance running, partially because my husband is a runner, has been since high school and I look forward to being able to do it with him, but also because I can leave the house and be all by myslef with just the sound of my breathing and the rhythmic pit pat pit pat of my feet hitting the pavement to keep me company. And the endorphins aren't bad, either. They only bad part is bribing my daughter or step-son to watch the fellers so I can get out.

I have been a fitness addict for eighteen months now and I am in better shape than I have ever been. I remember I couldn't (didn't want to?) even run the whole mile in high school gym class. I am down below my pre-pregnancy weight, but sadly, my waistline will never be the same after bearing four children (including a set of twins that stretched out my poor abdomen skin like a pair of size small latex gloves on the Incredible Hulk).

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So there you have it: my measly excuses for neglecting my blog-home. Another excuse: it is freakin' exhausting raising Superman, Spiderman, Bat Man, Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader (Actually, Boompas has been known to try his hand at Cat Woman, too, but we won't go there.)