pffffft, choke, gasp, cough, wheeeze. blech. cough, cough. wheeeze. spit-ooey!
what in the... oh, hey there!
pardon me, I was just brushing away the cobwebs from this poorly neglected corner of the internet and well, you see, all that dust started to tickle my nose and throat consequently sending me into a horrible sneezing/coughing fit.
speaking of which... hold on, I still have some lingering phlegm I need to expectorate.
ah, much better.
so yeah, anyway. how have you guys been? I mean, gosh. I can hardly imagine the withdrawals you must be going through being I haven't blogged in nearly three weeks!
hmph, yeah, well, I obviously underestimated how crazy life would suddenly become what with the whole moving/unpacking thing and kids on summer break and don't forget all the summer activities and youth camps, etc, etc. but, you wanna know what's been even more crazy than all those things combined? trying to keep a certain little boy off the golf course during business hours, that's what. because in that millisecond I happen to blink, he's woosh, gone. yes, keeping tabs on that certain little boy has pretty much consumed most of my waking hours this summer.
I'm pretty sure you all know who I'm talking about. if not, let me refresh your memory. it starts with R and ends with o w a n.
how could you forget, right?
mm-hmmm. "we have received reports from several golfers that there has been a little boy running up and down the cart path on hole number six, waving to random golfers, raking the sand traps along the green, and helping himself to water from the water coolers, among other things, and could that little boy possibly belong to you? we just noticed all the kids hanging out the windows and you know, just sorta took a stab in the dark as to which house he lives in." and if that's not enough, get this. just last week, he comes racing into the house waving a giant candy bar in the air (apparently excited over his "score"), and I'm like, "Rowan, where on earth did you get that?" "from the golfer guy," he tells me, grinning from ear to ear. oh no. OH. NO. while I'm sure that was golfer guy's way of bribing him off the golf course (like, here's a candy bar, now scram, kid!), in reality golfer guy only made it worse. because that just set Rowan's gears spinning and now he's thinking, sweet! if I run on the golf course, I get candy! because that's just how four year-old minds work.
so, needless to say, while golf course living definitely has its advantages (it's basically an extended playground for the kids that I don't have to maintain, more on that later!) we've had to set up a few rules. like, under NO UNCERTAIN TERMS can you ever go out onto the golf course, EVER, during hours of operation lest you want to risk getting yelled at by both the golf course employees and the golfers, or worse, smacked in the noggin with a golf ball and then well, yeah. it's pretty much good night Irene. Zzzzzz. and while the rest of the kids have willingly complied-- waiting to go out onto the course only once it has closed for the day-- apparently Rowan has yet to come to grips with it. because, you know, that would mean having to forgo candy bars, of all the rotten things!
sigh. it's always something with him. and speaking of which, the kid will be turning four here in a couple weeks, and so I've been praying daily that maybe this, THIS WILL BE THE YEAR IN WHICH ROWAN KESTI TURNS OVER A NEW LEAF. ALL CAPS. because when you write things in capital letters that makes it seem more promising. but keep your fingers crossed just in case, okay?
now where was I? oh, how could I forget-- about a month ago, WE MOVED.
and well, I'm pretty sure moving has to be one of the worst things ever, second to having your teeth pulled.
in fact, each time I've been in the middle of sorting through closets and cupboards, haphazardly tossing junk into boxes, trying to decide if I can finally part with all those nursing books that I haven't cracked open since 1997, because well, you never know when you might suddenly need to look up the term choledocholithiasis, all the while sweat dripping down my forehead, bawling babies at my feet, screaming
hyenas toddlers swinging from chandeliers, the house looking like an F5 tornado just ripped through, I vow I'm NEVER going to move again. yet, obviously, I must forget about all the pain and anguish and tears and stress and misery and did I mention tears? it causes because somehow we've managed to move nine times in our married life.
anyway, pictured below are a few scenes from the day we moved. I purposely snapped these pictures so I could look back at them and be reminded as to why we should never move again. just kidding. well, maybe only a little.
|yet another good reason to own a 12-passener van. kidding.|
|hello, what am I supposed to do with all this stuff?|
|one bed set up, 99 to go.|
|rediscovering "new" toys.|
|because someone decided that dirt was meant to be rolled around in.|
|Rowan caught a horny toad, or hoiny toad, as he called it.|
|excuse me, aren't you guys supposed to be helping?|
|shucking corn. because even though you just moved, people still need to eat.|
|kid for sale. cute, witty, charming. sometimes tries to run away, but not very often.|
also, I realize some of you are chomping at the bit to get a tour of our new abode. well, I promise I haven't been making you wait just to be a tease, it's just that everything is about 95% finished around here and so I'm waiting for all those loose ends to get tied up before I post the final reveal, which will probably be in about twenty years or so.