I just checked Lepidoptera's blog to catch up on her family (and read about the tadpoles, but I didn't quite get to that entry yet), when I noticed that her link to my blog shows the timeframe of my last entry:  1 month.  OH MY.  Has it really been that long?

Well, it is already late, so I am just going to cut-paste-and-quickly-edit an e-mail I sent to my extended family members three weeks ago, when one of my sisters asked for an update on what the nieces and nephews are doing these days (mine are the only ones that haven't graduated high school!).

Saturday night, DD9, DS7, DS4 and DD2 went to Midsummer at the Meadows (accompanied by their parents, of course) and enjoyed riding the rides, eating smoothies, hot dogs, popcorn, and Italian ices (not simultaneously), and playing on the playground.  DD9 particularly liked the “Fear Factory”, although she wondered why they called it that because it didn’t make her fearful.  DS4, on the other hand, looked very serious on the kiddie roller coaster.  DH thought DD2 was too short for the kiddie rides, but Mommy wasn’t so sure, so I stood her up at the measuring spot and sure enough, she just made it!  She got to ride the cars and jump around in the little blow-up house with her big brother DS4.

DS7, when I was making fruit dip earlier that afternoon for lunch at church Sunday, asked, “Next time we have lunch at church, can you make Chocolate Mountain Dew again?”  My reaction was a combination of confusion (knowing I have never made that before and wondering what he was really talking about) and disgust (thinking about what chocolate + MD would taste like together – blecchhhhh).  We quickly realized that he really meant to say “Chocolate Fondue”. 

Yesterday afternoon, DD2 grabbed a bowl of cereal that had been sitting for a while, and started to eat it.  I grabbed it away from her and said, “Don’t eat that; it’s gross.”  She replied, “I want gwoss, Mama.  I want gwoss.”

This morning, I took the kids for pictures.  DD2 woke up first, and before she even found me, she found a red marker and decorated both palms and one forearm with it.  What is it about a pending portrait appointment that makes my daughters want to give themselves a makeover?  [For those of you who haven't heard this story, it goes like this:  when DD9 was 5, our next-door neighbor A (then 6) gave her a haircut a day or two before our family portrait…her bangs were cut down to the roots and her shoulder-length hair was roughly chin-length by the time the little beautician was finished.]  The good news is, all the marker came off.  If it hadn’t, I would have taken them anyway.  J

Just a little while ago, DD4 came up to me to whisper in my ear, like I do to him about every day (“Who’s my favorite four-year-old, loving, handsome…[etc. etc.]…man?).  He got a little confused about my age, though. He remembered there was a 9 in there somewhere, so he said, “Who’s my favorite 90-year-old, loving, beautiful Mom?”