Sense of Forboding

 Why do I have the unshakable feeling that these photos are a mere foreshadowing of the teenage years to come (x 3)?

Some Helpful Lists

I am not entirely Type A in the personality department, though I do love me a good list, and I will admit to buying exorbitant amounts of adorable notepads when they go on sale in the Dollar Spot at Target and happily filling them with list-worthy material. (Also, my Christmas stocking could be full of nothing but notepads and I would be perfectly happy.)

But alas, I try not to overdo it.
 (Craig may or may not agree with me on this one.)

Some of my common lists include:

grocery lists
Target lists
weekly menus
homework readings and assignments
general to do's...

Enough to keep me organized without getting me too obsessed.

I have recently discovered that my dear Julia also has a penchant for lists. She left out two lists the other day... lists which I had never even thought about making, though now that I have them in my hands, I can sure see their merit. Thankfully, now J's already done it, so that means I don't have to.

Here they are. Be sure and pay attention, because I am pretty certain that you'll be able to learn a few things from this seven-year-old's wisdom.

List 1: "Be Kind"

1. share
2. care
3. make pepl happy
4. give pepl presents
5. Be nice
6. Trustwerthyness
7. going to church

List 2: "Be Bad"

1. hit
2. push
3. snach (snatch)
4. Pinch
5. steel
6. Be mean
7. get things when you are not suppost to.
8. KILL

Now you know how to be good and how to be bad. If I were you, I'd be careful to avoid number 8 on List 2 at all costs.

I also suggest paying special attention to numbers 3 and 4 on List 1 next time you are thinking of me. After all, Christmas is only four months away and we don't want my stocking to be left without the notepads that I will need to make my new "Best Pepl Ever" list.

(my adorable list maker)

E.B What??

In attempting to fulfill my girlhood fantasy of reading actual literature to my children, Julia, Savanna and I have been reading Charlotte's Web before bed. (Not that there is anything wrong with "No, David," or "The Berenstein Bears and the Messy Room," or "Elmo's Look and Find." We like those, too.)

 I can trace this fantasy straight to the source: my mom read us hundreds of books growing up and created at least 4 out of 5 avid, can't-put-my-book-down-even-at-the-dinner-table, "can-we-please-please-please-go-to-the-library," standing-in-the-bathroom-reading-when-I'm supposed-to-be-in-the-shower, completely obsessed readers. I am hoping to make similar monsters out of my children. Charlotte's Web is only the beginning.

After we read our two chapters for the night, I was looking at the synopsis about E.B. White at the back:

"E.B. White was born in Mount Vernon, New York, and graduated from Cornell University. His writings appeared for many years in The New Yorker magazine.

He was awarded the 1970 Laura Ingalls Wilder for his children's book "Stuart Little" and "Charlotte's Web," and his third book for children, "The Trumpet of the Swan," also won several awards. The author of seventeen books of prose and poetry, Mr. White received many distinguished literary honors. In 1973 he was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters."

Apparently I skipped over the first "his" and "he" in the mini-biography, because it wasn't until I got to the "Mr. White" part that I about panicked. Um, did that just say Mister White? Wait a second...  E.B. White is a DUDE?

A quick wikipedia look-up confirmed the shock: Elwyn Brooks White is indeed a man. Who stinking knew?

here he is, that son of a gun...

I'm not sure if it's the seemingly girl-centricity of Charlotte's Web  that lead me to my mistaken conclusion. I mean, Charlotte's the main character, and she's a girl. So is Fern. (Wilbur's a boy, but let's face it, he does seem a little girlish in all his whiny, "I don't want to die," clinginess.) Or does this goes back to the time that I thought that Dr. Seuss was the Cat in the Hat himself? I mean, did I actually think that Charlotte wrote the book, and that's why I assumed E.B. White must be a woman? Where did I go wrong? And, more importantly: Am I totally alone here?

This strange bit of unwelcome information has spurred some introspection. Has my life-long obsession with reading caused me to be so oblivious that I have assumed for years (and years and years) the totally wrong thing? Well, obviously, in this case, yes. But is there anything else I'm missing out on? President Obama is still the president, isn't he? No one can stand the Kardashians, right? No one uses cell phones to make actual phone calls anymore, do they?

If there is anything that you think I should know that maybe I do not, please tell me. I promise I will put my book down as soon as I finish this chapter and listen to what you have to say.

Big Whoop(ee)

Sorry, mom, I know you are not a fan of slang words that describe passing gas, but I must document what the girls dubbed their fun new Whoopee Cushion diversion this summer: "Farty Hugs."

Here's how you play: Blow up your prized Peter Piper Pizza whoopee cushion. Put it between yourself and your sister. Give her a hard hug. Laugh hysterically. Repeat.

You might also want to try the variation
where you fill the whoopee cushion, put in on
your stomach, and let your sister sit on it. 

It's at least as funny as the original version. 

Flaggiestaff

Ah, Flagstaff. Where summer daytime temperatures hover in the double digits and summer nights require the use of those funny looking things that cover your legs all the way down to your ankles. (What are those called again? Oh yes, pants.)

Right before the girls started school, the 5 Monsons along with my brother Michael and MIL Linda joined Laura and Amy for a blissful weekend away in their adorable cabin. You would think that having 6 adults and 3 kidlings  in a 1000 square foot cabin would be tight, but we had so much fun that no one even noticed. (Well, probably my brother noticed. But he's a sweetie and didn't say anything.) The grown-ups got to chat and play (well...the grown-ups that weren't reading "Othello" at the time) and the girlies got to do what they love best...dig, paint, shovel, explore, collect, and get filthy dirty outside.

Oh, and did I mention that Amy made us a bona fide Thanksgiving lunch on the day we left? Ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, and rolls....the works. Yes, we are quite spoiled.

Sometimes I dream that we're still there...

La and Amy got the girls (water bottle lovers that they are)

their very own Camelbaks. They've never been more hydrated.

Coloring with Amy

Making plans to plant her own forest

I've never seen a cuter shoveler in my life.

Loving living outside. 

(I must say, hair doesn't get much more vacationy than this.)

More cute shovelers

At the "Farmer's Market" whilst Mommy slept in on Saturday.

Apparently, the only produce on sale had been bought at a 

grocery store and brought to the "market" to resell.

They did get to see this creepy cockroach, though.

And this reptile. 

And isn't that what Farmer's Markets are really all about?

Julia the nature lover fashioned this bird's nest in one 

corner of the porch for any birds looking for a home...

...just in case the giant bird hotel that they painted 

with Laura doesn't have any vacancies.

"Welcome Home Birdies!"

Yes, I know what it looks like I'm doing in this picture.

I thought only our faces were in the frame.

Thought you'd enjoy a hearty laugh at my expense.

But don't get too cheeky, else I might 

have to bust out my Wolverine claws.

Happy Family in the forest.

Everyone's got vacation-hair but Craig.

Princess #3 on her forest throne

Princess #2

Princess #1

The whole gang

Wonderful Michael and Sweet Savanna

I'll eat her up I love her so.

(But Lex said "NO!)

Not certain what's going on here, but it sure looks fun.

This is what coming home looks like.

Til next time, cool air, forest smells, and cute cabin!