What happens when you drop your blog for a couple of years? For a couple of earthshaking, hectic, frazzled years that you don’t document along the way? What happens is the three or so readers you had stop reading, stop coming around, and it gets pretty quiet. Maybe that’s okay.

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That’s right – the barn party. It’s as much a part of summer for us as Independence Day. For seven years now, we have got out to the barn to party like it’s 1899. Only with plastic utensils.

Here is what the Hooligans Looked like back then:

(And, of course, Moo wasn’t born yet.)

Now there are three of the little boogers, and they aren’t that little anymore.

My friend, L, and her kiddos got to come, too. Right after we walked into the barn, I turned to her and asked if she wanted to eat inside or outside. I had actually remembered to bring a camp chair this time, so I was gunning to sit in the fresh air. “I think it might rain.” she pointed out.

Dang if she wasn’t right. Not five minutes later, it was a good steady wetting out there and my well-planned chair sat in the corner. But it was wonderful and cozy as everyone sat in the barn to eat together, instead of spreading out all over the place. The downside? Restless children syndrome, since the hay ride was cancelled. Good thing there is a natural climbing area made of hay bales in the back of the building.

It was a wonderful barn party, and a bonus summer holiday.

I am not a very good Valentine’s Day person. This year, I didn’t even get the required bag of candy and cheap pink-and-white plastic junk to distribute to the Hooligans. I just plain didn’t remember in time.

As we drove home from running club today, I asked them, “What about kidneys? No one has a ‘Thanks for filtering my urine!’ day. It’s so unfair. Or elbows. There is no ‘Hooray for bent arms!’ day. And spleens! There are absolutely NO holidays for spleens. Just hearts, hearts, hearts everywhere. Thpt!”

Then the Bear’s voice pipes up from the back seat, “Yeah! And I love my anus!”

There are obviously things about having a Y chromosome that I will never quite get.

Just under a month now until the big day. That’s right – not long now until the Doctor Who Christmas special.

Are you ready? I know I am.

Like every other time the Doctor regenerated, it took me a while to warm up to Matt Smith. But he is really growing on me. (Now I am just waiting for the writing to come back up to par. Also for Amy Pond to toddle off and get lost on a distant planet somewhere.) Still, it’s hard to watch a kid play someone 900+ years old.

Want to know how to see the difference in tangible terms between the tenth and eleventh Doctors? Here you go:

Number 10

Number 11

That pretty much sums it up.

It’s true that the HallowThanksBirthsMas Eve season is upon us, but it’s not a gift list I am making. Well, I’m making that list, too – with three birthdays and Christmas to shop for, I need to be organized. I am also making a list of things that need to get done around the house as we prepare for the upcoming move. It is official: the new duty station is San Diego. I have no actual date for the move since we have to sell our house before we can leave.

We weren’t seeking a change in location. After nearly fifteen years in Washington, this haven of rain and adamant vegetation has almost completely replaced Colorado in my heart. This place is home. But, really, we are blessed to have lived in one place so long – military life is usually a mobile one. Our kids have had a chance to know what a home town feels like, with friends and family always around.

It is hard to plan ahead, since there is no solid timeline. All we can do is the next thing to prepare to go. In the mean time, I am making a list of things that are positive, stuff to look forward to when we finally get on our wagon and go:

• Tons of stuff to do. Lego Land, the San Diego Zoo, Balboa Park, and the list goes on and on. We will be right in the middle of tourist heaven. I run through the list of things like a mantra to help the kids get excited, too.
• Sun. I’ll be honest, I really, really, really like the rain. Really. I love the mist and the sweaters and the puddles and short, dark days of grey light. But my joints don’t. I am thinking the warmer climate will bring a welcome change to my creaky frame.
• The Princess has been studying Spanish, and here is a great opportunity for her to use it.
• Good Mexican food. Because Washington state is far enough away from the point of origin, it is almost impossible to find good Mexican up here. Honestly, salmon tacos with blackberry mango salsa?! *shudder*
• In a city that big, the homeschool conferences are going to be awesome. I hope. Co-ops and support groups are plentiful enough, I am hoping we can jump in and get involved somewhere.
• Since it is such a accessible, likable city, it is super easy for people to come visit.

I keep adding to the list when something new comes to mind, and I encourage the Hooligans to think of more, too. I’m trying to get that list to be longer than the to-do lists. Life is too short to nurse the gloom.

I am not a dog person. I keep saying that. But I am being won over totally against my will by this canine type thing we took in a month ago.

How could anyone not be charmed? True, he follows me around like someone with a codepenancy disorder. And he also smells awful. Worst of all, he produces copious amounts of poo, and dog poo is easily the most disgusting substance in the universe. (I have been directly barfed on – multiple times – by all three kiddos, and I would rather get nailed again than clean up after the hound.)

But he has these ears, see, and he let’s me pet them. He lets me drape them over his sleepy face. He is very generous with his ears.

He snores. Normally, this would be a bad thing. But he has magic snores that are amusing in the daytime and yet better than a sleeping pill at night. Those snore even work subliminally – I will start nodding off in the middle of a movie, only to realize that Petey’s soothing deep breathing is the culprit.

Best of all, he is very, very silly. I am not a silly person – I may be weird or odd or downright doofussy, but not terribly silly. Isn’t it just like a dog to help you remember silliness? He is all shameless physicality and glee. He has zero dignity or grace. And he doesn’t care one bit if you laugh at him. Actually, he takes it as a compliment. With someone like that in your life, you sort of have to be silly and shameless back.

Every four years or so, Mr. MG is up for orders. The navy is kind enough to give us a window of opportunity to choose from what’s available, but it’s a bit like “Let’s Make a Deal.” The new billets come out once a month, and you get three months to make a decision before they choose for you. Do you take what seems to be your best bet this month or pass it up, hoping something better might come along? There’s a little more to it than that, but that’s what it boils down to.

Through a lot of haggling, negotiating, and Mr. MG sacrificing his sanity, we have been in the same town for ten years. Both sets of our folks have moved here. (Which – among other things – means I have never had to hire a sitter.) I have a talented hairdresser, a truly gentle dentist, and an honest mechanic. If you’re not military, you may not realize what an anomaly this is. We are a navy family with roots.

But it is looking like our streak is at an end. For a while it looked like our choices were Southern California, Virginia, or Japan. Tense doesn’t even approach the feeling floating around right about then. My nerves were like piano wire with a 50-pound weight dangling on the end. But now we are finding it will most likely be a closer move – about three hours from where we are now. I am so grateful to still be near family. I am relieved that we don’t have to part with our felines and cut our library in half. And I am happy to remain in my mossy, green, adopted home state of Washington.

But I am still in mourning. I’ve waited for years for my kids to be old enough to go to our church’s truly fantastic youth group. (It’s that awesome.) I hate the loss of having family five minutes from my front door. I am not a people person, so living that far from friends and connections is horrible to think about. And I love this house. I had hoped to live here past paying off the mortgage, until it fell down around my ears.

I know I am being whiny and more than a little ungrateful. Three hours’ distance is a whole lot better than across the country or across an ocean. And it’s not a done deal, yet. Until orders are signed, we could pretty much end up anywhere.

I tell our kids that if this place is so incredible, and yet God sees fit to move us away from it, how amazing will be the next place he puts us. I am trying to believe it as much as I am asking them to.

But that doesn’t mean I have stopped praying that we will stay put.

Well, it is the Pacific Northwest, after all.

It’s a weird Christmas season this year. I am finishing up a research paper, trying desperately to get two kids with a stomach bug back up to speed by tomorrow, preparing for finals, and – oh, yeah – wrapping presents, decorating, and cooking, and baking. And signs of the season, good and not so good, have marked the time.

On the not so good side, someone walked up to our house and cut our snowman inflatable. It is nowhere close to the sidewalk, so they had to actively enter our property to do it. With many other Christmas stuff put on the back burner so I can concentrate on finishing up my classes, the lights and decorations were the one thing I made time for. It boggles my mind that someone would go out of their way to be such a jerk.

On the wonderful side, yesterday I accidentally left a present for a friend in the shopping cart after I paid and loaded up the Hooligans and drove away. I was home when I figured it out, and rushed back. I pretty much figured it as a loss, that I’d have to buy another one and the money would be spent twice. When we got to the store I asked about the item, and someone had turned it in; it was waiting, still in its bag, in the office. It was paid for and that person could have taken it home, but they took it in instead. Wow.

Also on the heartwarming side, last night, as the Princess shivered and snuggled down in the covers with the sick bucket next to her bed and prayed, she thanked God that she had happened to miss running club that day, so that she didn’t expose the other kids to this bug right before Christmas. She forgot to pray that she would get better quickly.

Now the snowmen are repaired, most of the gifts are wrapped, and the research paper is in the polishing stages. The girls have ceased their barfing, and the tree is lit.

Merry Christmas to all, and may God bless your New Year.

This week,  my in-laws didn’t realize it but they gave me an early Christmas present. For the first time in years, I left town by myself – NO kids in tow – and it wasn’t for a doctor appointment or anything utilitarian. I realize how lame that sounds. I mean, who doesn’t go places without their kids? Me, that’s who. Life whizzes by, and there’s not a lot of time to eat bonbons at the spa, you know?

I drove to the big city to Christmas shop without bringing any witnesses with me. I zipped through crowds and narrow isles with no stroller to slow me down. Not once did I hear complaining or whining about being bored, tired, hot, itchy, hungry, or needing to go to the bathroom. Okay…I did. But those were other  people’s kids, and I could smile and walk away.

I ate a leisurely lunch at my favorite spot. Not once during the entire meal did I have to wipe off any part of anyone else’s body, or beg them to shut up and eat already. It was glorious.

I shopped until I was exhausted, got a coffee, and drove home just in time to pick up the kids and have my mom come over and put the kids to bed. It was ten times better than bonbons and a spa.

Because I am down for the count with a nasty cold and am also in the middle of moving stuff (yay!), this will not be a very wordy post. But I have to put up the pictures of this year’s Halloween costumes. They came out so well! (The costumes, that is… the pictures, not so much. With all the excitement of the evening, it is hard to insist on finding good light and posing properly. I am no Miz Booshay.)

Usually the year they are two is the last age I get to dictate a cool costume. But Moo broke the mold and insisted on being Snoopy. Naturally, Mr. MG escorted her as Charlie Brown.

The Bear is still superhero crazy and wanted to be Wolverine. I am pretty smooth on creating anything out of sweats, but this time he stumped me. It’s the first time any of us has worn a store-bought costume. He felt very fierce!

I totally stole an idea from a friend of a friend, but since that person was a total stranger to me and lived in another state, I figured it was fair game. I was a ceiling fan, and nobody got the joke.

The Princess was the best of the bunch, though. She was Arwen from The Lord of the Rings trilogy (“The book, not the movies.”) and my awesome mother in law made her gown and cloak from scratch. (She did Mr. MG’s and Moo’s costumes as well. And the Bears claws. She pretty much rules.) She looked just gorgeous. The pictures don’t really do it justice.

All in all, totally worth dosing up with loads of cold medicine and wandering around in the windy Northwest weather, scrounging for candy.