Before I had my coffee this morning, I could have sworn I overheard Taylor say the following this morning:

"Mussolini is talking smack in my bathroom."

Living in Italy, it was a bit disconcerting. Why was there a fascist dictator in my bathroom?

And, why was he talking smack?

Yep. School just started and we are getting ready to head off on vacation.

Husband had such an insane work schedule this summer that the ideal time for a family vacation never presented itself.

His schedule next week allows for a little bit of wiggle room so we are jumping at the opportunity.

We are going to head up to Spangdahlem, Germany to visit some friends.

McKinley is very excited because her teacher told her she could do a project on the Luxembourg American Cemetery and present it.  She told me last night that she was making a list of everything she needed to bring along.

According to her she needs a composition book just for the trip, a sketch book and new colored pencils, a zippered plastic folder for the brochures she picks up, extra batteries for her camera, and a roll of tape in case one of her sisters tears a page in one of her books. She's very thorough.

Monday - the first day of school - can't come soon enough. My girls have spent entirely too much time together.

McKinley, as spittle runs down her cheek: "Mooooooooooooooommmmmmmy!!!!! Reagan spit on me."

Me: "Reagan Elena, did you spit on your sister?"   Duh!

Reagan: "Well, she..."

Me interrupting: "That is a 'yes' or 'no' question."

Reagan bordering on the edge of defiance: "Yes, I did!"

Me: "Would you like to explain to me why you spit on your sister?"  Note: That wasn't really a question.

Reagan: "Well, you said I couldn't hit her and that we were supposed to use our words when we have problems. But, I couldn't come up with any words. The only thing that could come out of my mouth was spit."

With that I had to turn on my heels and walk away from them. I barely made it to the bathroom to bury my face in a towel to muffle the laughter.



GIVE

ME

STRENGTH!!!!

Yes, I realize it is August.

But, tomorrow starts a new year for me since it will be my birthday.

I simply MUST start making scrapbooks.

I was searching for a picture and realized we have literally thousands of pictures on our hard drives.

The grandparents have been reminding us they would like to see pictures of the girls. Some reminders are gentle and subtle like Wita's  (husband's mom) "We can't wait to see the new pictures you have taken of the girls" or my grandmother's "I would imagine Taylor is getting to be quite a big girl, now."

Some, not so much like Khaki's (my mom) "I guess if I want any pictures of my granddaughters then I am going to have to fly to Italy and take them myself."
 
So, that is my birthday/new year's resolution. Scrapbooks and/or photo albums will be assembled.

I now have to decide if I want to do traditional scrapbooks or digital scrapbooks. I like the personal touch of traditional scrapbooking, but free time is not a commodity around here. Yeah, that whole selfish year I was planning? Totally flown out the window, thanks in part to husband's promotion (but I'm not complaining — much)

I am leaning toward digital since once a page is done it could be printed out and sent to all interested parties. And, since I know husband hasn't gotten my a gift yet and he does occasionally take a peek at my blog, I am just saying an iMac or a MacBook would make digital scrapbooking a lot easier. Besides, it is the gift all the cool husbands are giving.

Wow! Am I really that old!? My 20-year high school reunion was held this past weekend.

I did not attend because, seriously, have you taken a look at airline prices lately!? I am pretty sure I could almost afford a house in our favorite get-away destination in Slovenia for what it would have cost the girls and me to fly back to the States.

I thought about how much fun my classmates were having as I sipped Italian wine and nearly suffered from heat stroke at a formal function we attended. Husband was in Mess Dress, so I really have no room to complain. But, it was freakin' HOT!

I have seen some pictures from the weekend and it looks like a great time was had by all who attended.

Maybe I'll be able to make the 25-year reunion.

Or, maybe I'll be sipping wine in Slovenia...

Well, it seems I am a bit better at keeping Twitter ———————————>
updated than I am at blogging.

Hey! At least it is something. Though it does make for vague and cryptic updates.

So, for those who are wondering, I am fine. I just had another one of my killer migraines. Maintenance Man and my doctor both decided 3-4 weeks of constant on-a-scale-of-1-to-10-it's-about-a-12 pain and a 3-day yakking spurt, enough was enough and I was going back into the hospital.

I have to do this every few months since the only medicine that seems to knock out my migraines also sky-rockets my already high blood pressure into numbers that should never been seen on a bp monitor. I think this time the monitor was flashing "WTF" over "Oh, hell NO!!" 

Being jabbed repeatedly with needles ("hmmm, you weren't kidding. Your veins really are shallow and it's not hard to go right through them."  I'm sorry, is this something kid about a lot!?) is not high on my fun list, so I tend to roll with the punches for longer than I should.

All is good now. Well, except for my arms which look like I am a drug abusers or my husband beats me, or both.

Eh, gives the gossip mill something to grind on about. Besides, it is too freaking hot to wear long sleeves to cover the bruises.

We survived!

The road trip was a smashing success. Well, except for the pit stop to clean up a bit of barf thanks to the winding, mountain road we took.

Fortunately for us, it was not from one of our passengers. And, more fortunately for Kristen, her daughter had fabulous aim and timing and the clean-up only had to be done on the outside of the vehicle.

The pediatrician had to cancel at the last minute so it was just the priest in our van.

My kids were very well-behaved. I didn't have to threaten to throw them out of the vehicle once.

Kristen's kids are always well behaved.

When we made our way to the restaurant for lunch the men sitting at a table in the only outdoor section that would accommodate us all had what can only be described as a look of sheer terror on their faces.

The waitress' look was worse. I am sure she thought she about to get a taste of "Ugly Americans."

Within minutes it was clear they were not going to be an unruly bunch. Our fellow diners relaxed and the waitress was in awe over the "so polite children." Though she was a bit shocked at "just you two little mommas and all those children!!?"

Kristen only has about two inches on me, so I guess our tiny frames turning out nine well-behaved children total appears as some super-human feat.

I think the pleasant lunch may have had just a little bit to so with the fact that we had strategically placed all the children in line-of sight of Father Kaim.

I mean really, who is going to act like a jackass when your parish priest is present?

And, on the topic of him, what an amazing man he is. We are truly blessed to have him here.

If parenting were an Olympic sport, my friend Kristin and I are about to embark on what would surely be a gold medal performance.

Tomorrow morning we will roust our children an the obscene hour of 0500, dress them, feed them and then strap them into vehicles for a road trip - all while husbands are asking "did you remember *insert obscure item here*" and "Let's get a move on. We are supposed to meet Father Kaim at 0610."

Yes, I said "Father" as in Catholic priest. Because a road trip with nine children and two husbands just isn't challenging enough... We are increasing the difficulty level by adding a priest AND a pediatrician to the roster.

Because Kristin has six children, her vehicle is full. That means the priest and the pediatrician are riding with us. I knew there was an advantage to having as many children as you do seats in your vehicle.

One (of many) thing about me that drives Maintenance Man (the artist formerly known as husband) crazy is my penchant for "floating through life."

He is a planner. He wants a detailed list of what needs to go with us whenever we head out whether it is a day trip, a simple overnighter or a week-long vacation. The man wants plans and lists. He also wants all suitcases packed at least three days prior to departure.

Me? Not so much. I can usually be found pulling clothes out of the dryer and cramming them into suitcases about an hour before our scheduled departure.

In my defense, the one time I acquiesced and packed well in advance several things were poached from the suitcases before the trip and had to be purchased along the way.

This morning I sat down and looked at all the scraps of paper I have strewn around the desk to see if there was something I had to do today. It was then that my heart skipped a beat.

Maintenance Man had called one day last week to give me a list of "absolutely must attend" function dates and a few  "you don't have to go, but it would be nice if you could make it work" function dates.

I had double booked myself on three dates. In all my floating along that had never happened.

So, today, I must give in a little. I have to move a bit closer to the dark side. I am going to buy a planner. I can't guarantee I will actually write anything in it, but I will buy one.

Baby steps, ya know!

and I am frightened!

One daughter is yapping on the phone with a friend in giggly, girlie, eight-year-old fashion while wearing my clothes! Seriously, shouldn't my daughters' age have to at least be in the double digits before they start raiding my wardrobe?

Another daughter is rolling her eyes and lamenting how her sister can "blab away forever about absolutely nothing." Then, whining because no one has called her to chat.

Littlest daughter is dancing around in only panties and a Winnie the Pooh towel fashioned as a cape singing at the top of her lungs that she is a "pwitty and bee-utiful pwincess."

The teenage years scare the crap out of me!!