Over the last year, I've added a tree to my list of favorite plants---the Golden Rain Tree, or what the boys call their "special tree." The park trail we walk houses several of these beauties that produce lantern-like pods, and in the fall they turn a gorgeous burnt-orange color.

But the boys are attracted to what the lanterns carry inside: usually two or three black, berry-like seeds that they first extract and next stomp underfoot because they make an irresistable crunching sound. ---SM

Disclaimer: OK. This entry has no accompanying photographs (as nothing like your imagination would do it justice) and it may leave you a bit queasy. But I write it because I am so grossed out that I feel I have to write it to make sure I remember these glory days of being a new mother.

Warning: Don't read further if you have a sour stomach.

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My poor, poor garbage bin.

Personified, the bin is male, and he can take a lot. He is small. He is black. And he is just one year young. He doesn’t see a whole lot of trash since we have a very comprehensive recycling program, but on a typical day he houses, if nothing else, about 15 dirty diapers---some of them more voluminous than others.

This morning I paid him my usual morning visit to dump the usual morning diapers. Toward the end of the week, I tend to squint my eyes, pull my head back a foot, twist my mouth into a frown, and lift his lid with one centimeter of my finger because the smell is so bad and flies are abounding. To my dismay, abundant flies weren’t necessarily the problem. But their very alive young larva were.

“Yes, indeed-y,” as my grandpa often says, so many maggots crawled all over the inside of my garbage can that I almost threw up on the spot upon first seeing them. Worse yet, the movement from opening the lid caused a few of them to fall onto the ground where probably five hundred ants had already formed a working line after one of their scouts discovered this treasure trove of complete and utter disgustingness.

My grandpa would probably tell me with a twinkle in his eye that maggots are a delicacy somewhere. I prefer to devour them another way: sudden-death-by-hose-blast tomorrow morning after the garbage truck comes.

Kellen says, as he lays down for a stinky-change, “Ga-bage t’uck, Mama? ’Tinky di-pa in. Ga-bage t’uck comes. Take away! Yuck!” Yes Kellen, fortunately, we have a dependable system and a lot of faith in the very important job the garbage people provide. I cannot believe it’s only $22/month. What a steal. And “the man, the man,” Grant calls out to while he watches the dumping process from our front porch, even waves back.

Who knew three stinky boys could create such an onslaught of “Eeeeewwwww, ’is-custing,” as Grant often says when he peeks over my shoulder as I change Kellen’s diaper.

Poor, poor garbage bin. Every time I lift his lid, flies swarm around the can, appearing as if out of nowhere, and often making their way inside. I lament this. I lament this deeply. The maggots have only manifested themselves once before that I could see. Today was the second time, so I am still very grossed out.

Isn’t nature, ahem, . . . a beautiful thing? ---SM

Read the following sentence: “Hirschell eats sarsparilla on the chartreuse cushions.”

Q: Are you falling down laughing?

A: No? Then you’re probably not two-and-a-half-years-old and hearing new words in the English language for the very first time. Or you’re just wondering who in the heck Hirschell is.

A few weeks ago, the boys were more than lethargic as, at the end of the day, I asked them to put all of their toy blocks into their respective bags. I heard loud gasps and a few sharp “no”s and then I ended my request with, “And put the cushions back on the couch!”

Kellen stopped dead in his tracks and said, “Mama, cushion?” Then he looked at Grant and the two of them literally fell on the floor laughing at the same time.

“Again, again,” Grant said as he signed for “more.”

“Cushion?” I asked. And they howled. I remembered that I had always referred to the fluffy things as “pillows.” How interesting that “cushion” is a more delightful word. “Cushion, cushion, cushion!!!” we sang, and needless to say, the boys put the blocks away as though the word itself motivated them to do the most undesirable job.

When Dodo visited us this week, she got to saying some pretty funny-sounding combinations, too. One of the favorites was, “Hirschell eats sarsaparilla on the chartreuse cushions.” Again, the boys doubled over in laughter as they requested more and more of those words they were hearing for the first time.

Go ahead.

Say it five times fast, and maybe you’ll be inspired to dust your chandelier today?! ---SM


Above: Dodo and the boys after rolling around in the grass shouting, "Herschell, Herschell loves sarsparilla!"

I struggled today with Kellen during his naptime. He wouldn't go to sleep after an hour of book-reading and singing to himself. I'd ask him to lay down and he'd shout, "Nnn-o!" The kind where the "N" is elongated and the "O" is staccato.

I really dislike that. Yeah, both the non-nap and the defiance.

"Nnn-o!" Imagine it several more times.

So I left his room, two of the three boys were down, and I tried to figure out my next move as every muscle in my body twitched with irritation.

When I snuck back in about five minutes later, I saw this and smiled; the little boy stood his ground---one foot planted, at least---even into his dreams, and we both got what we wanted:

I recently learned that the cliche phrase, "Dog Days of Summer" stems back to the ancient days of constellation naming. Supposedly, the brightest star in the constellation Canis Major, is called Sirius, or the dog star. During late July, the star moves with the sun, and ancient thought was that the star added to the sun's heat (which it doesn't, really), making this period of the year very hot. So the ancients dubbed these the "dog days," and it stuck.

Although the dog days of 2008 are still in heat---so to speak, they are coming to a sure close. The temperature, while warm, is noticeably cooler; a handful of neighborhood trees are beginning to turn that crisp fall color; and I’ve begun to wear pants again for the first time in months.

To keep the dog days howling a little while longer (and to take me back to one of my favorite places on the planet), I’ve set some of my 2008 summer beach photos to one of my favorite ocean songs. Thanks to everyone who gave me an excuse to go to the beach as often as I did---Marcucci cousins; Nuno family; Rawe family; Shipleys; Mom and Staci!!!

Let the reminiscing begin! ---SM

Grant found this HUGE (but admitedly beautiful) green caterpillar on Papa's tomato plant today. He was the only one in the family who would hold it. Ironically, the shirt he is wearing says, "Handle with Care," something we also advised Grant to do so the poor leaf muncher wouldn't get smashed! ---SM

Take a walk
To the park
Climb the ladder and S L I D E

It’s lots more fun
On the way down
When Papa is by your side

Grab your brother
With both hands and
Hold on very tight

Swing with Auntie
March like a soldier
Gram shouts out the cadence

Scream with glee,
Run so fast;
We have made it
To the park at last!

We visited Justin at work today for a lunch date and dined in a shady spot on one of the several eBay campus lawns while devouring gourmet PB&Js, fruit, and sippy cups full o' milk.

The boys got to see their dad's desk, their picture on their dad's desk, meet several of dad's co-workers, and wave hello to even more passers-by as they ran up and rolled down the lawn banks. 'Twas a busy but delightful lunch.

The twins are quite familiar with the campus after having visited several times. Whenever we drive to, from, or by the two blocks of buildings they shout out, "Daddy's work!" And during the day, they translate what that means by gathering up my purse, random bags, or anything with a handle (simulating Justin's computer bag or workout bag) and exclaim, "Mama, Mama, I going to work. I be back. Bye, Mama."

They kiss me, run out of the room, then run back in. "I back, Mama," they exclaim, sealing their return with a second sweet kiss. Rewind and repeat at least five times a day! ---SM


Above: Tired boys after dining with dad on the grass.