Today kicked off the Vacation Without Leaving Home in which I intend to wow my kids with the wonder and beauty of our local area.  We started with the zoo.

The 13-year olds hate the zoo.  Or claim they hate the zoo and refuse to go.  Then they get in the car, have a fine time and forget that they hated the zoo in the first place.

My car smelled like the inside of a kitty litter box combined with the stench of worn-out sneakers worn by 13-year old boys and a touch of undeodorized migrant farm worker.  Why?  Because I had two 13-year old boys within my Mercury Sable and they hadn’t showered since Sunday morning.

Oh, and let me describe the appearance of my children.  My 8-year old wore normal clothing–Teva sandals, black shorts, orange (easy to spot in a crowd) shirt.  My 3-year old wore matching pants and shirt–and underneath it all?  Her swimsuit.  (I have no idea why she decided to do so, but it was a blessing in disguise because she got wet jumping in a fountain and we peeled off her clothes to reveal her swimsuit.)

My twins?  One wore sweatpants with a hole in the knee.  They were too short and stopped right above his socks.  His shirt?  Okay. 

The other wore ratty red shorts fit only for wearing to bed with his yellow Fiesta! shirt from last week.

I was horrified and of course, at Costco, we ran into people we knew twice.  Glory be.  I need a t-shirt that says “They dressed themselves.”  I don’t think any of my boys combed their hair, either, today.

So, the zoo.  Then Costco for lunch, dropping off film and a little shopping.  After that, to the video game store and video store for movies.  We didn’t return home until 4:00 p.m.  At 6:40 p..m, we took the 8-year old to the YMCA for his Judo class.

I am so happy that everyone’s quiet and in bed now. 

Tomorrow?  Either mountains or city.  I can’t decide.  Also, a commercial endorsement for this organizer and this book by Barbara Curtis. 

But now, I’m turning on the television and stretching out in the recliner for awhile.

I sit in dappled shade, paging through an Oprah magazine while my almost-4 year old daughter languidly floats around in the wading pool.  She talks to herself, calling herself by name, having a complete conversation with herself and when she catches my eye, she looks away, embarrassed.

I look up long enough to notice the sleek, tan, smooth bodies of the unselfconscious children prancing and splashing.  I note the pudgy tummies on display, belonging to more unselfconscious children.  The shrieks, the shouts, the laughter and the lapping and splashing of waves speak of carefree summer and pure joy.

The scent of sunscreen mingles with the odor of chlorine and the smell of the warm sun on cracked concrete.  Loose hair blown by happy breezes tickles my cheeks.

The children come bounding over, dripping.  Rivulets of water trickle from sopping hair and I say, “Don’t drip on me!”  Red raccoon-eye indentations ring my youngest son’s eyes.  His goggles were too tight.

“Awww,” he says, “But we only did one kid swim!.”

“We can swim tomorrow.”  I say.

But the days slip away, evaporate like splashed water from the aqua pool. 

Yes, it’s midnight exactly.  And I turned into a pumpkin.  The end.

Okay.  Not really.  I’m still awake waiting for my husband’s underpants.  That’s right, his underpants.  He’s leaving for Minneapolis in the morning (at 5 a.m., I think) and he had not one single clean pair of underwear to pack.  He informed me of this truth when I returned from the grocery store at 10:20 p.m.  Whoops!

I am a dismal homemaker.  But a fantastic Vacation Bible School director!  We had an average of 91 kids over our five days.  Not a single problem worth mentioning, either.  This was my eighth year directing Vacation Bible School and, though I always fret a month of so before the start, the event itself generally runs smoothly.

And the kids had a fantastic time. 

Tomorrow?  I’m staying in bed as long as possible.  (Sure, I’ll have to get up at 7:00 a.m. with my daughter, but I’ll settle her in with the television–my favorite and cheapest babysitter–and go back to bed.)

Oh, did I mention my husband will be gone all week?  I am torn between wanting to scrub my house and clean my closets and wanting to play tourist around the state.  (Let me just be honest.  We are just going to play.  Though tomorrow I will clean.  Yes, I will.  You just wait and see!)

Well.  Okay.  I guess that’s all for now.  I’m all yawny, but I have to wait for underpants to dry.

Oh, finally.  I am dying laughing over this story of the woman who called 911 because she thought the deputy was cute.  (The cute deputy returned and arrested her for misuing 911.) (Here’s another article about her.)  

6:40 a.m.:  Telephone rang.  Wrong number.

7:15 a.m.:  Daughter wakes up.

8:30 a.m.:  Arrive at church with daughter (aka my shadow).

9:00 a.m.:  Fiesta! continues.

Noon:  Fiesta! ends.

12:45 p.m.:  McDonald’s drive-thru, ordering food for seven children (my four, three extras).

1:00 p.m.:  Swimming pool.  Weather?  64 degrees, occasional rain sprinkles.  No other people crazy enough to swim, so we had the pool to ourselves.

3:00 p.m.:  Leave pool.  Arrive home.  Blog.  Laundry. 

4:30 p.m.:  Daughter leaves with her 3-year old buddy.  First time she’s ever gone to anyone’s house without me.  Die from shock.  The end.  Just kidding.

5:30 p.m.:  Serve boys dinner:  baked potatoes with cheese sauce.

6:00 p.m.:  Husband returns home.  Leave to pick up daughter.

6:50 p.m.:  Drop off daughter at home.

7:05 p.m.:  Meet blogging buddy for dinner.  (Link tomorrow.)

8:40 p.m.:  Finish dinner.  Stop by Bed, Bath & Beyond.

9:15 p.m.:  Home again, home again, jiggety-job.

10:00 p.m.:  Watch Big Brother.

11:03 p.m.:  Post this.

11:05 p.m.:  Sign off.  Hooray!  Sleep!

Tomorrow?  Last day of Fiesta!  We survived!  (Average attendance?  91 children.  Wow.)  

Before I left the house this morning at 8:30 a.m., we had a phone call alerting us to the bad news that the church had no power.  Half of town didn’t either.  (We did, though.)

By the time I arrived at church, power was on.  Hooray.

But it was raining our typical misty, Pacific Northwest “liquid sunshine.”  The kids played games outside anyway and didn’t rust nor melt.

Only two days to go.

And tonight?  What do you think I did?

Hmmm?

That’s right!  Used a Rug Doctor on my family room and living room carpets.  Because when you are already crazy busy and half-delirious from lack of sleep, you ought to deal with the sticky spots the kids left on the floor.

You know how I’m blogging over at ClubMom?  Well, yesterday, after VBS and lunch, I sat down at the computer to check email and lo and behold, my email box was jammed with comments and email from The Amazing Shrinking Mom blog. 

I surfed over to check the stats on that blog and what?!  I’d had 7,800 hits overnight.  I spent the next two hours hunched over the keyboard answering email and comments and private messages sent through the ClubMom network.  By the end of the day, I’d had over 12,000 hits on that blog.

And a huge amount here, too. 

My husband kept saying, “Why?”  And I said, “Well, I must have been advertised somewhere.”  As it turns out, the folks at ClubMom sent an email to their members which featured my blog, among other things.

Today’s hits have been much higher than normal, too, and so has the amount of email. 

All that to say that I miss you, my fellow bloggers!  I’m not caught up on your lives, nor have I changed my Blogs in Focus, nor have I left any comments on any other blog in the past two days.  It’s kind of ironic because one reason I love blogging is the interaction with other bloggers, especially reading other blogs . . . and now that I’m experiencing a little blog-growth, I’m missing out on part of what I love.

For example, how much do I love The QC Report?  Or Dishpan Dribble?  Or Judy’s Anybody Home? 

I’ll tell you.  So much that I feel disconnected, unmoored, floating around in outer space because I don’t know how they are.  It’s like my phone has been disconnected and I’m out of touch, without a dial tone! 

 But soon–next week!–my life will slow down.  Fiesta! will be over.  My husband will be out of town for a week and I won’t be babysitting and I will catch up on my blog-reading.

Or die trying.

And now, another picture or two from Fiesta!

(My daughter, boycotting today’s Fiesta! and playing with a baby, instead.)

(How cute is this cactus?  My friend and I made it ourselves!)

(Do you love that parrot?  I stole borrowed it from my husband’s office.)

Okay.  One more.

All my brownie points in heaven for servant-hood have been cancelled out my pride over this foam-insulation-latex-painted village.  Pride cometh before destruction, you know.

Fiesta! begins in eight hours and thirty-nine minutes.  I just finished typing up the last form and tending to the final details.

Hooray.  Tomorrow is the beginning and thus, the ending will be along shortly.

Maybe I’ll even remember to take a digital photo of the decorations.  Then again, I hope I remember the basics, like . . . oh, I hope I remember to wear pants and brush my teeth before rushing down to the church at 8 a.m.  Details!  At this point, it’s all about details!

Happy Monday!

I nearly drove off the road tonight as I peered between houses and trees at the pink-painted sky and purple-gray mountains.  A person in less of a hurry might have turned the car toward the beach for a decent look at the fleeting sunset, but alas, I wanted to get to the grocery store more than I wanted to sigh at the sky.

The decorations for Fiesta! are essentially complete.  I stopped by the church for an hour tonight to make sure that everything’s ready for church in the morning.  I meant to take a picture, but I left the camera at home.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll remember. 

The paperwork awaits my attention tomorrow.  I will sort the children into crews, create sign-in sheets, finalize the schedule and tend to a dozen other details. 

I am so thankful for the women who helped me with decorations this past week.  I might have been able to manage without them, but only if I skipped sleep altogether.

I saw footage of the running of the bulls on television today and said to my husband, “That.  I don’t get.”  But then I googled it and now, I sort of understand what.  But not why.  I could live the rest of my life without putting my ample behind within reach of an angry bull.  I’m boring like that.