Well, we started school this week. Wow. I'm exhausted.

First of all, Romy decided she was really just a cat-napper, which really freaked this mommy out. But now she's settled down to longer, more appropriate to an 8 week old, naps. Phew.

Second, we had a small crisis over some lost math skills. After Mommy settled down, we realized the skills were simply mispalced and not actually lost. They have now been restored to the proper storage facility. Bullet dodged.

Third, I'm trying to do it all. It's not really working for me. So I've decided to give up bathing. That's optional anyway, right?

In reality, our first week of school has gone so great. I'm having a lot of fun with Luke and Peyton and their attitudes are so awesome! We're starting (after 3 years in this history cycle but with various detours) Ancient Rome. It's good.

Latin could possibly make it into the finals for favorite subject of the year - it's started off that well. We're doing LC1 if that matters to anyone. Peyton's tagging along because she was able to complete Prima Latina with no problems last year, but we'll pull back with her if we need to.

Tomorrow is Friday, our light day, so we'll do some reading and math, quiz a little Latin and take a nature walk. We may also try something simple from The Dangerous Book for Boys. Maybe work on some knot-tying. We'll see.

As for our newest student, she's already falling asleep in class. How will she ever get into Harvard?




Edited to show brown bookcases:

So long, you long, lazy days of summer vacation, I'll miss you, but it's time you go. You see as long as you are here, I will wander aimlessly around the house, baby over one shoulder, spit-up on the other, participating in the following conversations over and over again:

"Hey Mom, can I have something to eat?" "Don't you mean, 'May I have something to eat, please?'"

"Hey Mom, can I watch t.v.?" "Don't you mean, 'May I watch t.v., please?'"

"Hey Mom, can I go on Webkinz (curse you, GANZ)?" "Don't you mean, 'May I go on Webkinz, please?'"

"Hey Mom, can I knock on ____'s door?" "Don't you mean, 'May I knock on _____'s door?'"

In fact, my kids have asked these questions of me so many times this summer that Bud labeled them 1-4. Now the conversations go like this:

"Hey Mom, can I do number 3?" "Don't you mean, 'May I do number 3, please?'"

I do this while carrying a baby who loves to be held and who hates to be put down - in her bed, in my bed, in her bassinet, in her swing, in her bouncy seat. If it doesn't have arms, she doesn't want to be there. Period.

The end result of all this? My brain is now the size of a Brazil nut. Yes, it's one of the larger nuts, but still, this represents a fair amount of atrophy.

So, my sweet, sweet summer, you must go. On Monday, you will be a memory. We will wave goodbye to all our public schooled friends from our pillows on Monday morning, and when we rise, we will learn about stuff. Like long division and the Punic Wars and what kind of oak that actually is in our front yard. And we will play games that aren't Webkinz (curse you, GANZ), games like chess and Blokus, games that make us think. And we will discuss matters of greater importance than the toys our Webkinz have (curse you, GANZ) or which episode of Sponge Bob will be on when we get back from swimming (okay, maybe we'll still talk about that).

It is a mere 9 months until we meet again. It may seem an eternity now, but with school, holidays, and life in general, it will only seem like moments have passed when you return to partake of the feast that is my grey matter.

Goodbye, dear Summer. You know that of all the season, I love you most, but it's truly time for you to go.

Love, Amy

Bud just got up to head to an early meeting and now I'm awake. So I will blog about my diapers. Because isn't that what everyone thinks about when they wake up at 5 in the morning?

See, I'm pretty sure that there is a landfill in Maryland named for my two older kids. I used disposable diapers with them, and have since been horrified to learn that those things take 500 years to degrade. So not only do I need to feel guilty about damaging my children as their mother, in various escapades such as the Tower of Terror, but now I've got environmental guilt to pile on top of that.

And from a purely selfish standpoint, I hate having any kind of diaper pail or, heaven forbid, Diaper Genie. I don't care what anyone says, they smell bad. Maybe not at Romy's stage of the game when all I have to deal with is breastmilk diapers, but when a baby is eating all manner of fruit, veggies, and dehydrated meat she stole from Uncle Jim Bob's shirt pocket then, people, it stinks. And I am wayyyy too lazy to take the offending diaper right out to the garbage, so don't even suggest that.

Enter gDiapers. These are the coolest diapers that have made their way over from Tasmania!! to U.S. hineys. Basically it works like this:

You have a cloth cover, a waterproof liner that snaps into the cover and a flushable insert that fits into the liner. When the baby has a wet or dirty diaper, you remove the insert and flush it down the toilet. Simple as that. Rather than filling the landfill, the offending waste is being treated at a water treatment facility and the biosolids are handled appropriately, depending on your treatment facility - could be fertilizer, could go to the landfill, but as something that will biodegrade.

Random bits of information:

I save the pee pee only diapers to flush when I use the bathroom, to minimize additonal flushing.





The covers are soft and cute, they come in multiple colors for all your baby's fashion needs, and the velcro closures are in the back to make it more difficult for your little one to open up and use the contents as fingerpaint.



If you compost, the pee pee diapers are compostable, and provide a good source of nitrogen for your soil. Don't compost poo diapers, though! And if you do find yourself in a situation where you need to throw away the inserts, like in a house with messed up plumbing, you can at least feel good knowing it will decompose in a month or two versus 500 years. Cool.



I was concerned about flushing these babies because our toilets aren't really up for any kind of challenge, though I'll save you from the details of how I know that. But the g's have flushed beautifully with no problems.

So that's the story on gDiapers. They work for me. I'm very excited about them, as you can tell, and just so you know, the link in my sidebar is an affiliate link. I will make money if you buy from gDiapers through that link. With my readership that could easily add up to, I don't know, a dollar a year. Clearly I'm not in this for the money, but I wanted to give full disclosure and all that.

Well, it's mid-August, which around here means birthdays. Luke will be NINE years old tomorrow, and Peyton will be SEVEN on Tuesday. That is simply crazy. I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that Luke is halfway to adulthood and Peyton is not far behind. How on earth have all these years passed so quickly?

On Thursday night we had Peyton's birthday party.



It was a blast. Eleven girls swam, ate pizza and cake and pudding, held a dance contest, watched Cheaper by the Dozen and slept over. Oh yeah, and they had "sugar cereal" for breakfast at the request of the birthday girl. Once a year event, that. I was a little worried about pulling it off in my sleep deprived state, but the girls were fabulous. And the dances were...cute, hilarious, sweet, offbeat, and generally great. A good time was had by all, including Bud and me. Luke opted to spend the night at a buddy's house - I can't imagine why.



Tomorrow I get to do it again, this time with boys and without the dance contest. Oh, and the movie will be one of the Star Wars series. Fun, fun, fun!

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Gratuitous Romy photo, and an update on my sweet little thing:



She is smiling! Not predictably enough to get a picture yet, but real smiles in response to us as opposed to smiling in response to passing gas. She mastered those smiles a while back. Sleeping is still hit or miss, but when she does sleep, it's in her bassinet next to us as opposed to plastered against me. She eats like a maniac, and I am very sorry to report that I don't think she likes chocolate. This may do me in, but not as quickly as a repeat episode of Friday night would, so I'm giving up chocolate for a while. That's all for now, I'll be back after I've recovered from Luke's birthday party.

Hi everyone,

Today I am pleased to introduce you to a very special guest blogger. You see, I'm just really too tired to blog, as evidenced by the lack of blogging around here lately. Today our guest blogger is celebrating her very special and anxiously awaited one-month birthday! Without further ado, I bring you Romy:

Hi guys, as my mom mentioned, today I am one-month old. I thought the world might like to know about life as a one-month old, so I suggested to Mom that I should write a blog entry. She's very proud of me and likes to show me off to unsuspecting strangers, so she jumped right on the idea.



So, a little about me. I was born on the Fourth of July. I'm sure that will be great later on, but right now... yawwwwn. I'm good at some things. Like sleeping, eating, burping, and pooping, but snuggling is my specialty. I can curl my legs up under me and stick my hiney out with the best of 'em. I have a bit of a case of baby acne. My mom must have been a hormonal wreck when she was pregnant. Up until a couple of days ago, I had my mom convinced that the only place I could sleep was her bed. She's getting wise to my game now, though.

I have a sister named Peyton. Peyton adores me. She sings very high-pitched songs to me and kisses my head alot. She likes to help me take a bath and get dressed. Peyton has a little bit of a problem respecting my personal space, but I try to overlook that because I imagine that I will be invading her space for most of the rest of her years under Mom and Dad's roff. Or that's my plan anyway.



Luke is my brother. I have the coolest big brother in the world. He is very popular and someone is always knocking on the door to play with him. When they do, he always brings them to see me. He likes to kiss me and hold me. I hear him say how cute I am. However, just between us, he doesn't always smell so sweet, and I plan to innocently mention that to his first girlfriend in a few years. This way I will be able to keep him to myself for a bit longer.

My mom is a good mom. She takes care of me. She is the only one who feeds me! She sings to me, and I've seen my dad cringe a bit when she sings, but I like her voice. She makes sure Peyton and Luke and their friends don't hurt me and that they scrub their grimy mits before they hold me. My only complaint is that she is sometimes slow. Sometimes, if I make a noise like I might just cry in a minute, she doesn't drop what she is doing immediately and take care of my issues. Sometimes, I actually start to cry! I'm not sure she completely understands the org chart around here.



My dad is a pretty good egg. I think I am his favorite (don't tell Luke and Peyton, because they think that, too, and we wouldn't want to ruin it for them). He sings really well, even better than my mom, and he plays the guitar. I love that. I like to take a nap on his chest when I get the chance - it's the perfect size. My dad says I am going to be the President of the United States some day. I think he means that as a compliment. Anyway, I love him a lot.

So that's all I've got to say about me and my family today. Mom will be back to blogging soon. -Romy