Destroying Innocence

Just a quick note to tell you how I completely crushed the innocence of my 10 year old daughter, Amelia.

While sitting around the table, working on Christmas presents, I decided that Enoch and Amelia (12 and 10 1/2) were old enough to hear the big, fat truth about the guy in red. I asked Enoch and Amelia if they knew about Santa, and Enoch said, "Yeah, I've known for a while. Nathan told me a long time ago." Amelia, stunned, said "What do you mean?" "Well, there's no ONE PERSON that is Santa. Santa is actually the spirit of giving that is in all of us. When you're little, the best way to show a child is by using a wonderful, jolly, bearded man to represent this. But, now that you're older, I just wanted to make sure you know. I also wanted to know if you guys want to help fill the stockings and set out the presents this year?" Enoch was eccstatic, saying "I was going to write you a letter and ask you if I could!!" Amelia simply said "Oh. I wondered why I found the boxes from the fruit snacks (we had put in their stockings the previous year) in the basement. I never ate them because I always wondered how old the food was, so I always threw it away."

We kept working a while, then I said, "Do you guys want to know how I learned about the Easter Bunny?" Amelia's face was totally blank and she said, "What do you mean?".

Time froze for just a moment.

Do I let my beautiful, innocent, 10 yr old girl remain in fairytale land a little longer, or do I bring my huge massive boot down to crush her little innocence into a million pieces. "Uhhhhh. The Easter Bunny isn't real either, Mimi."

Big Boot.

"It ISN'T?!" She said, mortified. I might as well have brought in a cute bunny and savagely beat it to death in front of her.

Maybe it's the Asperger's that makes her sweetly gullible, or maybe just because she's related to my side of the family (remind me to tell you about optional stop signs), but while she finally grasped the concept of Santa, apparently it stopped there.

"The Tooth Fairy, however is very real." I replied. She seemed content in knowing that.

You'll probably be seeing us on Dr. Phil.

Merry Christmas!

Tanya

Confession time

It's 3:59 AM. I thought Dr. Pepper and I had a mutual understanding. I would drink it, and it would keep me awake during the day, enough to accomplish just enough to be useful. Well, he certainly went a little overboard this time, hence the early morning blog.

Now, to get a few things off my chest from tonight.

We have 5 children, as most of you know, and four of them sleep in one of the bedrooms in two sets of bunkbeds. Each night we go through this ritual of: Parents: "Good night guys, turn your lights out and NO TALKING"
Kids: Giggling and laughing "Did you guys here something?" "Nope." "Me neither." "Check this stuff out, it sounds like a REAL FART!"
*Loud obnoxious noise followed by peals of laughter*
Parents: "I SAID GO TO BED! I MEAN IT! IF I HEAR ANOTHER WORD, YOU'LL GO TO BED RIGHT AFTER DINNER TOMORROW!! NOW GOOD NIGHT!!"
The Baby: Knowing she's being left out of all the fun "I sweep wiff guys. Pweeeese! I sweep wiff guys."
Parents: "See, now you've gone and woken the baby! Now GET INTO BED AND KNOCK IT OFF!
Kids: "Shhhhhh. I think they heard us." "What now?" "Maybe we should lay down."
*Intense fits of laughter mixed with shhhhhh*
Parents: "Do you think that we can't hear that?! Well, we can hear every word, EVERY SINGLE WORD!" (okay, get ready for the part I will need to repent of later) "And even if we don't hear it, we have it all recorded on the hidden camera!"
*dead silence*
Dad: "Huh?" Mom: "Just go with me on this one."
*a few minutes pass*
Kid: "Mooooooooom."
Mom, entering kids room: "What. You guys are supposed to be asleep."
Kids: "What do you mean a hidden camera?"
Mom: "You know those cameras that are so small they can fit in a pin-sized hole, or a teddy bears eye? It can pick up the image of an entire room, even in pitch black, and it has remarkable sound quality."
Kids (thouroughly intrigued, scanning every inch of the room with their eyes, paying close attention to their stuffed animals): "You mean you're, like, watching us on a TV?"
Mom, knowing that she must answer carefully or they will hamm it up for the camera: "No, it's automatically downloaded onto a safedrive on the computer where we can access any specific time or date."
Kids, surprised that Mom knows anything about a computer: "Oooooooooh."
Mom: "Don't go looking for it either, because if you find it, it means you will have broken it, and that's a very expensive piece of equipment." (Yeah, like the cost of selling your soul for some much needed quiet time)
*10 minutes later*
Kids: "Mom. Would the light burn it up or catch it on fire?"
Mom: "NO. NOW GO TO SLEEP."
Kid: "Mom. I think Aidan found the camera and broke it!"
Mom: "No he didn't. If he had, a loud shrieking alarm would have gone off on the computer, summoning the local police department that our monitor had been tampered with. Now GO TO SLEEP!!"
*15 minutes pass, a little footy-pajamad boy slinks into the living room rubbing his eyes. He carefully approaches his Mom and whispers in her ear*
Kid: "Mom, I found the camera, but I didn't break it. I just wanted you to know that I know where it is and I won't touch it, that way if it gets broken, you'll know it wasn't me."
Mom: "Thanks sweetie. Good night."
Kid: "'Night."

So there it is. My confession. I'm not sufficiently humble yet to tell the truth, but I feel a little better getting it off of my chest with you. Now for the second one:

I woke up at 1:24 this morning, and my mind drifted to the refrigerator we have in our garage. In it contains a bowl of sugar cookie dough. Calling me....inviting me....tempting me. Some of you may, or may not know, that I have recently lost 55 lbs, so I was certain the beckoning came straight from the devil himself. I am proud to say that I resisted him. at 1:25 in the morning. At 3:31 in the morning, however, I gave in, went to the freezing cold garage and got me a handful of dough. Closing the fridge, I turned around and realized that if this wasn't enough and I wanted more, I'd have to go all the way out to the cold garage again (the thought never occurred to me that I could just go without), so I turned around and got another handful. Yes, no spoon, completely primitive. I walked back to bed, eating my handful of dough. After finishing the first, and setting the second on my nightstand while I snuggled into bed, full and happy, I realized that when the kids woke up, there would be the cookie dough- totally busted. So I did the only reasonable thing and unreasonable person would do. I ate the rest of it. So here I am, confessing, and wishing that I could throw up. I never want to see cookie dough again. That's what I get.

A Final Farewell to a long lost friend

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, which only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student, but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

-Author unknown

A Bitter Homeschoolers Wish List

I'm not the bitter homeschooler. At least not this year. I'm still in the "overwhelmed homeschooler" stage. I've only come across a few people that find what I'm doing to my children repulsive. That's okay, I've seen their kids, and knowing they were brought up in public school, I know I can't do any worse. So, enjoy the brilliance of someone else for a change:

1 Please stop asking us if it's legal. If it is — and it is — it's insulting to imply that we're criminals. And if we were criminals, would we admit it?

2 Learn what the words "socialize" and "socialization" mean, and use the one you really mean instead of mixing them up the way you do now. Socializing means hanging out with other people for fun. Socialization means having acquired the skills necessary to do so successfully and pleasantly. If you're talking to me and my kids, that means that we do in fact go outside now and then to visit the other human beings on the planet, and you can safely assume that we've got a decent grasp of both concepts.

3 Quit interrupting my kid at her dance lesson, scout meeting, choir practice, baseball game, art class, field trip, park day, music class, 4H club, or soccer lesson to ask her if as a homeschooler she ever gets to socialize.

4 Don't assume that every homeschooler you meet is homeschooling for the same reasons and in the same way as that one homeschooler you know.

5 If that homeschooler you know is actually someone you saw on TV, either on the news or on a "reality" show, the above goes double.

6 Please stop telling us horror stories about the homeschoolers you know, know of, or think you might know who ruined their lives by homeschooling. You're probably the same little bluebird of happiness whose hobby is running up to pregnant women and inducing premature labor by telling them every ghastly birth story you've ever heard. We all hate you, so please go away.

7 We don't look horrified and start quizzing your kids when we hear they're in public school. Please stop drilling our children like potential oil fields to see if we're doing what you consider an adequate job of homeschooling.

8 Stop assuming all homeschoolers are religious.

9 Stop assuming that if we're religious, we must be homeschooling for religious reasons.

10 We didn't go through all the reading, learning, thinking, weighing of options, experimenting, and worrying that goes into homeschooling just to annoy you. Really. This was a deeply personal decision, tailored to the specifics of our family. Stop taking the bare fact of our being homeschoolers as either an affront or a judgment about your own educational decisions.

11 Please stop questioning my competency and demanding to see my credentials. I didn't have to complete a course in catering to successfully cook dinner for my family; I don't need a degree in teaching to educate my children. If spending at least twelve years in the kind of chew-it-up-and-spit-it-out educational facility we call public school left me with so little information in my memory banks that I can't teach the basics of an elementary education to my nearest and dearest, maybe there's a reason I'm so reluctant to send my child to school.

12 If my kid's only six and you ask me with a straight face how I can possibly teach him what he'd learn in school, please understand that you're calling me an idiot. Don't act shocked if I decide to respond in kind.

13 Stop assuming that because the word "home" is right there in "homeschool," we never leave the house. We're the ones who go to the amusement parks, museums, and zoos in the middle of the week and in the off-season and laugh at you because you have to go on weekends and holidays when it's crowded and icky.

14 Stop assuming that because the word "school" is right there in homeschool, we must sit around at a desk for six or eight hours every day, just like your kid does. Even if we're into the "school" side of education — and many of us prefer a more organic approach — we can burn through a lot of material a lot more efficiently, because we don't have to gear our lessons to the lowest common denominator.

15 Stop asking, "But what about the Prom?" Even if the idea that my kid might not be able to indulge in a night of over-hyped, over-priced revelry was enough to break my heart, plenty of kids who do go to school don't get to go to the Prom. For all you know, I'm one of them. I might still be bitter about it. So go be shallow somewhere else.

16 Don't ask my kid if she wouldn't rather go to school unless you don't mind if I ask your kid if he wouldn't rather stay home and get some sleep now and then.

17 Stop saying, "Oh, I could never homeschool!" Even if you think it's some kind of compliment, it sounds more like you're horrified. One of these days, I won't bother disagreeing with you any more.

18 If you can remember anything from chemistry or calculus class, you're allowed to ask how we'll teach these subjects to our kids. If you can't, thank you for the reassurance that we couldn't possibly do a worse job than your teachers did, and might even do a better one.

19 Stop asking about how hard it must be to be my child's teacher as well as her parent. I don't see much difference between bossing my kid around academically and bossing him around the way I do about everything else.

20 Stop saying that my kid is shy, outgoing, aggressive, anxious, quiet, boisterous, argumentative, pouty, fidgety, chatty, whiny, or loud because he's homeschooled. It's not fair that all the kids who go to school can be as annoying as they want to without being branded as representative of anything but childhood.

21 Quit assuming that my kid must be some kind of prodigy because she's homeschooled.

22 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of prodigy because I homeschool my kids.

23 Quit assuming that I must be some kind of saint because I homeschool my kids.

24 Stop talking about all the great childhood memories my kids won't get because they don't go to school, unless you want me to start asking about all the not-so-great childhood memories you have because you went to school.

25 Here's a thought: If you can't say something nice about homeschooling, don't say anything at all!

Funny (but stolen) Comments on Motherhood

A Mother's Resolutions

- I will resist the urge to explain to strangers why my son is wearing winter boots, a bathing suit bottom, and an inside-out and backward pajama top. I will be grateful that he is able to dress himself.

- When I forget to go to the grocery store, I will not boil the macaroni necklaces my children made for me in preschool.

- When I hear one of my children wake in the middle of the night, I will run upstairs to supervise before he relieves himself in the sink and then creeps into the bathtub to return to sleep.



- I will not tell my children that the Play-Doh dried up just because I don't feel like cleaning up after they use it, even though I know it means I'll spend the evening harvesting the colored stuff from the carpet fibers, chair cushions and the dog's fur.

- I will always protect the rights of my children, especially their right to remain silent.

-. I will learn to accept the outbursts and tantrums as a part of life. After all, I promised to love my husband for better or worse.

- When my husband and I go to a restaurant without the kids, I will not roll up his sleeves or move the knives from his reach. I will not accompany him to the bathroom and remind him to wash his hands with soap. If my husband wants dessert at the end of the meal, I will not tell him it depends on his behavior.

Carol Pozos
LaPorte County Contact/County Contact & Special Needs Advisors Program Manager

A Big Load of Crap

Yeah, yeah, I know...it's been forever again.....blah...blah....

So, just the other day (really, it was quite a few weeks ago), we got the chance to visit a good friend of ours in the Branch- Robin. She lives on a "REAL LIVE FARM" as Aidan and Kate called it. She let us come over and "farmer" around for a bit. It was probably the world's best day, ranking right up there with Disneyworld. The kids got to play with her two beautiful dogs (one was a sheltie- a definate reincarnation of Kate's Elvis dog). We also got to sweep out the goat pen and put down bedding for them for the winter. The kids were eating it up, every moment better than the next. We also got to check the chicken coop for eggs (yep! They had some all ready for us!), and climb all over her giant hay stack. Robin was brave enough to hop on up there, I, on the other hand, chose to stay on solid ground to catch any falling Hepworths (or Nessels). The kids also got to mix together the medicine mixture for the horses and hold onto their lead while waiting. They all agreed that trying to keep hold of a giant horse was a TON easier than trying to keep hold of a 2 year old little girl. The two funest moments though: They got to milk a REAL GOAT!!! (And their Mom actually got sprayed in the mouth with milk!!) They even had a tall glass of cold goat's milk. Everyone was a little leary, but good 'ole Ava sucked down most of what everyone else didn't finish! Then, came the best of the best. Poop. Not just a bit, thought, LOTS of it- EVERYWHERE!! And they got to SHOVEL IT!!! They fought over who would get the biggest shovel, and who would get to shovel first, and they'd yell at each other if someone shoveled more than they were allowed. Yes. Horse Poo. I've never seen Kate and Aidan work so hard in my entire life. I've thought about going back to Robin's each week, loading the van up with horse manure, spreading it all around the house, leaving out some shovels, and hope that it's as much fun here as it was there. It may be the only way to get our home clean on a regular basis!

Taking a public shower

I usually shower without my contacts in (or glasses on, obviously), so I'm blind going into it. I figure I know where everything is (both in the shower and on me) so I don't really need to see- in fact, I'd rather not to be quite honest. So, imagine my surprise when I took a late afternoon shower the other day, contacts in, and found an audience waiting for me. Just as I'm slathering up, I noticed the first one, with a smirk on his face and his tongue sticking out- Blue. You know, from Blue's Clues. Bad enough that he's staring, but to so publicly mock me was embarassing. I turned so I wouldn't have to face him, and found Dora and Pikachu in a permanent state of shock (or disgust, or unbelief...something like that). Turning again, I find an army of little people and animals all staring with their eyes wide and unblinking. As if they've never seen something as disgustingly obscene as what is standing in front of them. I tried moving them all to the corner, where they fell into the bathtub looking straight UP at me. I kicked them around as quickly as I could so they couldn't get that quick of a look, and finished my shower in record time.

I'm sure I heard them laughing even as I ran out with my robe clutched around me.

Special Edition/Paper Pimping

Extwa! Extwa! Wead all abowt it! Speshel edition newspapaw!

How could you possibly resist that?

Well, that's what we were bankin' on when we got Aidan all dressed up like the old-fashion newsies to hand out special editions for the ACD parade (old cars) in Auburn. The kids earned $.25 for each paper they sold, and the winner (whoever sold the most) would get an additional $50. I volunteered Aidan, and Mia and Kate decided they wanted to do it, as well. So, we scrounged around and found some pioneer hats and dresses, and we all headed over to collect the papers. We could take 20 at a time, then when they were sold, you had to walk back to get more. Not exactly convenient, but hey, we're talkin' cold, hard, cash for kids. No convenience required. Scott was assigned to take Amelia and Kate around (while pushing Ava in the stroller) and keep an eye on them, while Enoch and I went around with Aidan to keep an eye on him. Let me tell you, there were a bunch of other kids that had been selling for a while, and they were out for BLOOD! They would butt in front of a line of people we were going up to, just to cut us off. It's a good thing I have at least minimal restraint, or I would have wedgied them 'till they saw stars. Well, we finally got down what Aidan was to say: "Would you please like to buy a special edition newspaper." We had tried going with "Would you like to buy..." but thought the cute little "please, like to buy" was pleading sounding enough without being begging. Of course, in Aidan-tongue it came out like "Would you pwease wike to buy a speshel edishon newspapaw. It's onwy a dower." Hook. Line. And sinker. We had people buying papers from us that had already purchased one. Who could resist a face like that? And, of course, the "accent", multiplied by the outfit- we were shoe-ins for the $50. Oh, I mean HE was a shoe-in for the $50. We finally found our pot o' gold- the restaurant. Just a little Mom and Pop joint, but the only one opened for the massive crowd of people showing up for the parade. It was packed, and every 20 minutes or so, the entire clientele would change. Fresh meat. He was able to sell to just about every table every time we went in. We had to do a little mad-dash and hiding to avoid the other "paper-bullies" from spotting our goldmine, but we kept it to ourselves the whole time. After we had gotten our second stack of 20, we came across a very sullen and unhappy Mia and Kate (and Ava who was screaming and writhing as if icyhot were lining her diaper). Now, no offense to Daddy (who I know will be reading this), but if you want an outspoken, in-your-face salesman- look further- MUCH further. This wasn't his "cup of tea" you might say. Our boys were bursting at the seams to share their "golden" spot, when the girls said they had only sold 4 papers. Our wonderful sons, considerate, kind, compassionate and not wanting to rub it in, loudly proclaimed, "IS THAT ALL??!! Man! We've sold almost 30!!!!" and proudly displayed there second, near-empty bag. That went over well. Amelia stomped her feet and declared that she was FINISHED and going home RIGHT NOW, Ava wailed in agreement, and we offered to take Kate with us. (How horrible of a Mom am I to consider this as having to "drag" her along- yep, that's what I thought). Sooooooo, Scott took screaming Mimi and Ava home to rest, while Enoch and I tried to enlighten Kate on the proper art of begging. Cute as she is, she was terrified of going up to people. We had decided that they would each take turns with every new person, but whenever it was Kate's turn, she would chicken out at the last minute, which would then be too late for Aidan to work his magic. (Are all parent's this obsessed with making sure their kid is THE BEST? Even over the others?) Well, we finally got things moving along at a good speed. We let Kate work her magic in the "goldmine" restaurant, which picked up her spirits and bravery. We went back for our next two bags of twenty papers each, and decided to walk the parade route- in the street! The other "newsies" were among the crowds, but here we were- Aidan blasting loud enough for both him and Kate- "EXTWA! EXTWA! WEAD ALL ABOWT IT!" The people were stumbling over themselves to get a paper and a picture taken with our little "newsies". Not even two blocks into the long parade route we realized we were out of papers again! This was the beginning of our demise. By this time, the other newskids had noticed, but hadn't been brave enough to cut in front of us in the street. But, as soon as I had to run back to get more papers, they came out of the crowd like cockroaches when the lights go out. They were everywhere. We only sold about 20 more or so the rest of the parade route, though. I must admit, a favorite part was when a lady came running out of her house yelling "Newspaper boy! Oh, little newspaper boy!" Aidan came running for her, when out of the blue comes this little......OTHER paperboy who said "Here's One!!" The lady looked at him, and said, "No, I wanted one from HIM." A PROUD mother moment. She likes MY kid better then THAT kid! She ended up buying one from both of them. Oh, well. Throw 'em a little scrap, too. (Of course, all of these evil 2nd grade thoughts are kept to myself, except when I spill them to all of you. But, then again, I say these things knowing that SURELY I'm not the only one thinking them at one time or another. Just the only one stupid enough to admit it.)

After selling papers from 9:30 to 2:30, we settled on a friend's porch for some much-deserved and welcomed ice cream sandwiches and watched the rest of the parade. Although Aidan doesn't know it, he made over $30 in tips alone. We put all the money together and divided it evenly among Enoch, Kate, and Aidan (with a little extra for Enoch and Aidan because they sold the lion's share). When Mimi saw me passing out the "massive" wad of bills and coins, she proudly stuck her hand out as well. I dropped two quarters in them. She was horrified. "That's IT?!" "How many papers did you sell?", I asked her. "Two, but how come THEY get all THAT money?" "Because they worked for it.". Don't you just hate that lesson as a kid?

Well, apparently the contest was rigged, because my kids didn't win. And, after all, isn't that what's important? To be MORE accurate, to the kids the MONEY was the most important this day, and according to the guy passing out the cash, Aidan had more tips then he's ever seen doing this.

So, we did a little garage saling after so they could buy themselves something "special".

I promise I'll be back soon!

Coming up:

Homeschooling Hell Week
Horsin' around with Poop
Wanted: Tanya Hepworth/Field Trip to Prison to Visit Mom

Can't wait, can ya?!!

'Till next blog....

More camping photos

More pictures for your viewing enjoyment!

Hell's Canyon

Okay, okay, okay. I know it's been a lifetime since I last blogged (a month to be more specific), and Scott keeps telling me to blog about our camping trip. He thinks I'll put a nice "spin" on it. What does that mean? Does he not think that what I type is the way it really is? I believe he thinks I embellish a bit- PISH TOSH!!

So, now on to our camping trip!

A couple of Friday's ago, we went with the Winter family up to the Dunes in Michigan. It was a gorgeous day, and a pleasant ride up there. We set up our family tent, and Aidan and Enoch set up the tent Aidan had received for his birthday. The boys, of course, immediately wanted a fire in the fire pit (the little pyro's they are). They were sorely disappointed to hear that there would be no flames until later that evening. We got unpacked, and decided to drive up to the beach. It was gorgeous and practically deserted! We soon found out the two reasons why: 1) We should have recognized by the dried up corpses along the loooong sandy hills (okay, not HUGE hills, but to these thighs, they were big enough) to the beach, that it would be more than a pleasant jaunt to the beach. But, we chose to look the other way and continue merrily for about two minutes until all of us, but the kids, were questioning whether the beach was REALLY worth it. We finally made it to the beach (with only a few stops for emergency oxygen) to discover the reason for the deserted beach #2) Ice water. The lake was all but frozen over. Oh, sure, it looked pleasant enough from a distance (and before walking over the physically draining sand hills), but one toe in, and you were all but a frost-bite victim. So, while the adults stayed a safe distance from the water (and contemplated who would illegally drive a vehicle to the beach to pick us up so we wouldn't have to walk back), the kids played in the lake (these are the same kids that won't touch bath water unless it's at least a mild hot tub). Scott and I stood watching, playing rock, scissors, paper, to see who would have to go in after the drowning victims when their body became paralyzed by the shock. Okay, we didn't really play rock, scissors, paper, but I let him know that it wasn't going to be me going in (although, looking at it from a scientific standpoint now, I have a lot more layers of...well, let's just call it warmth, on my body than he does). While the kids played in the lake, and made sand forms around their bodies, Ava took the opportunity to taste the cuisine at the beach- namely the sand. I don't think she much cared for it, even though to make sure she tried it several times. Well, since no one volunteered to drive down to the beach, we made the trek back up (which seemed much longer and more difficult) to get changed. We de-sanded the kids (baby powder is a miracle worker when it comes to this), and headed back to camp.

After lunch and getting Ava to nap for a little bit, the kids and Scott decided to go to climb the dunes. I had seen the dunes from the lake, and there was no way I was going to have anything to do with it. My "dune" was the walk back from the beach. Scott took the walkie-talkies, and just a few minutes into their trail hiking, he radioed back to say there was a dune right around the corner, and we'd have to come see it! So, after getting Ava ready, Toni and their family and I went to the base of THE DUNE. Now, I know Scott thinks I embellish, but this thing had to be AT LEAST a thousand miles high, and set at an 80 degree angle. And here are my kids, going up and down- SEVERAL TIMES!!! Even Scott was in on the action. Apparently, my moron gene kicked in, because I thought I would give it a try- and WITH AVA to boot. Maybe it was self-punishment for all of the lack of exercise I'd been getting this summer and I felt the need to let my body know how disappointed I was in it that it wasn't doing a better job of getting in shape. As if a 30 mile climb up a steep sandy embankment will make up for birthing 5 kids and eating meatloaf for breakfast. I guess I was willing to give it a go! So, up I went. I tried walking up it with Ava, but gave that up just a little bit into it and had to crawl on my hands and knees. Ava kept up pretty good- okay, so maybe she passed me a few times, and I had to drag her back to keep up (down?) with me. After sweating and climbing for what seemed like an eternity, I looked back and was no more than 10 feet from the bottom. Now I was just plain mad at myself- look at these kids and other people- no problem for them! If nothing else, I was going to make it to the top just to prove to myself that I could do it. Well, about halfway up, when I'm seeing mirages of sno-cone stands, I realized that who am I to have to prove something to myself? I'm a good person whether I make it to the top or not. Pretty much just self-soothing so when I have a heart-attack and they wheel me away, I'll feel better about the effort. But, NO- I continued- Good 'ole Scott stood at the top taking pictures (in anticipation of the ever-impending heart attack, I'm sure. Would make a great you-tube posting!) About 2/3 of the way up I was about to die (probably for the 10th time) when Mimi comes trotting down the hill, stops next to me and says- "I'll run down and bring you up a water bottle" In my hazy state of delusion she looked like she had wings. So she bounced down the hill, and skipped back up it in the time it took me to drag Ava and my body all of another 3 feet- only to have slid down another two. Water was a great relief, even if it did have sand in it. At this point I had to throw Ava up a ways and wedge my arm under her bottom so she wouldn't slide back down while I drug myself up a few more inches. I didn't feel as bad as the guy right behind me though, who's wife/girlfriend/? kept shouting from the top "Look honey! Even that little baby can do it! (referring to Ava) Keep going!!" The mumble under his breath was his response. Hey, I feel your pain! Not to mention, that the baby is doing it only because her Mom is pushing her from behind (filling her pampers to maximum sand capacity, thus multiplying her weight by 10). Bless Scott, though. When we neared the top, he came down to get Ava and help her (I must have looked pretty close to death by that point) and the kids were cheering me all the way. How can you not make it to the top with fans like that? After reaching the top looooong after everyone had that had started when I did, I stood (partly to make sure my legs still worked) to take in the view. Ummmmmmm. There were trees. Ummmmmm. And some more dunes. I'm not sure what I expected, but this sure wasn't it. I figured I'd climbed high enough to reach heaven, or something. I WAS taken back,however, by the view "from whence I came". It really gave me quite a perspective on my life. We have all of these struggles that we sweat, and grit our teeth, and DON'T want to do. And, quite frankly, we don't HAVE to do them. We can sit around and complain about how hard it would be, and that we'd rather not. Or, we can suck it up, get on with it, and "endure to the end". There may not even be anything truly spectacular at the end of "the trial", but what is spectacular, is knowing where you are, and looking at where you've come from.

Okay, enough philosophy...

We finished the dunes (coming down was waaaaaay better, but still not worth the trip up), and came back to camp for dinner. Ahhhhh, yes- FIRE! Except that, to make it cruel a little longer, we used our grill, so poor Aidan had to do without 3rd degree burns for just a little longer. After getting settled into a s'more induced stupor, I decided to lay Ava down for bed. It was, after all, past her bedtime by almost 2 hours. I laid her down next to me, and stayed as still as possible. I continued to stay still as she: jumped on my back and stomach, ran around the tent singing "happy campy", jumped on my rear then slid down the side, and stuck her nose right up to my face to see if I was still awake. Yes, I was. After what seemed like 10 hours, she finally settled in for the night- or so we thought. It couldn't have been much past 1 am when she first started screaming. We were able to settle her down. At least for a little while. She started up again at 3. Then 3:20. 3:50. She slept again for a little while longer- all the way until 5:00 am. At which point Scott tossed her over the other kids to me. Nothing like a screaming baby coming flying through the air at you at 5 in the morning. I took the hint that she was now MY child to deal with. I took her outside and sat her in one of the camp chairs, while I stretched out on two others and tried to sleep. She looked quite happy. Apparently her mission was accomplished. But,not for long. It seems that just having me awake wasn't enough, she felt that the ENTIRE campground should join us as well, and the screaming began. I finally brought her to the van, and strapped her in her car seat, I climbed in the front and tried to wait it out. Apparently I'm not nearly as patient at 6 in the morning as I would have liked. I finally stormed out of the van, flung the tent flap open, and announced (louder than probably necessary) that I was done, and HIS daughter was out in the van screaming her head off. He finally tromped out and joined her in the van. I lovingly refer to our tent that night as "Hell's Canyon". I'm pretty sure that's what hell sounds like- weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth included. And the fact that when everything around you is absolutely silent, a scream like hers echoes for miles (and hours). So much for toddler camping. Now I know why people buy campers- so they can shut out noise from people like us. The next morning I was certain people were walking by our campsite just to see "the ones". I thought that if we started doing sign language to each other and pretend we're deaf, maybe they would understand, but I can't stay quiet that long, so we just nodded and waved as people walked by and whispered.

Such was the camping trip. We brought back the typical camping woes: Sunburn, leg cramps, sore back, exhaustion,and 2nd degree burns, but HEY! Isn't that what camping is all about?

Call our house Krypton

Don’t tell him I noticed, but I think Superman is getting a little thin on top, if you know what I mean.

They put this big, crazy looking superguy up on the movie screen, and TELL you he’s superman, but that’s not the real one. The real one lives at our house. His supersuit is hidden deep beneath the day to day uniform of slacks and a shirt. He doesn’t fly as much as he used to, but he is still able to save the world, one child at a time. In fact, just last month, Superman was able to get four children ready for church- on time and by himself. Still faster than a speeding bullet. And although he doesn’t leap tall buildings in a single bound anymore, he still manages to get around the heaped up piles of laundry in our house without breaking a leg. Another impossible feat that the “so-called” movie superman could never do.

The real Superman can: manage to work 40 hours, give a blessing to everyone who calls during the week, do the dishes, fix the cars, mow the grass, attend his meetings, ride his bike, answer at least 50 questions a day on why things smell/look/work the way they do, snuggle with snugglers, read with the readers, bathe the stinky ones, change the messy ones, comfort the crying ones, calm down the screaming ones, and still give his wife a kiss at the end of the night and tell her that he loves her.

That Superman on the big screen? What a fake. Superman lives at our house.

Another Katie Joke-just in time for Dad's Day

Scott comes into the house after using his new Father's Day grill and tells me that I may not let him cook hotdogs on it anymore because 4 of them fell off. I asked him if he put any more on and he said yes. He went into the kitchen, and Katie turns to me and says, "Don't tell Daddy, but- 'I hope you put more on, moron'." I absolutely lost it!! And from the other room Scott says- "Iheard that!- It's funny, but I heard that."

Ahhhh the love of a daughter for her father- priceless.

Mother's Day Gift Suggestions

Wow! I can't believe I've been blogging for a year already! Okay, so maybe I'm not the most reliable blogger on the block, but, HEY! Cut me some slack. I do have 5 kids, and sometimes I'm pretty lucky just to be able to have the time to use the bathroom (of course I do try to multi-task while I'm in there- putting clothes down the laundry chute, scrubbing the part of the bathtub I can reach, picking up whatever's on the floor near me...okay, too much information).

So, now on to today's blog:

With Mom's Day tomorrow, I thought that I would list some of the more over-looked, but extremely important mother's day gift ideas. Here goes nothin':

1) Earplugs. If you want to go all out, go ahead and chip in for some child sized straight-jackets and muzzles.

2) Magnetic socks. Socks that, once removed, attach themselves together, through wash and dry cycle, and wherever they may be left.

3) An industrial sized, whole-house, instantaneous sound vacuum, that anticipates and reacts to: whining, back-talk, arguing, and anything else not associated with the phrases: "Yes, mother"; "How did I get so lucky to have you as my Mom"; "You're amazing/beautiful/spectacular/thin"; and "Here, let me do that for you".

4) Snot-absorbing tissues. Tissues that not only get the surface goop, but suction out what would be dripping out in the next hour.

5) Library book location devices. Built on the premise of the heat-seeking cameras, these would cause the long-overdue library books to glow bright orange, and emitt a high, ear-piercing scream (only audible to children), until the book is located. If you could shell out the additional bucks for the carrier pigeon who automatically delivers the books to the library when found, I'm pretty sure they'll be something extra-special in it for you.

6) A "Shadow" Mother. This not-particularly-attractive lady, would show up (by way of 3-D projected larger-than-life-like image) behind your young child (sneering and growling), when approached by the following: Bullies, name-callers, peer-pressure instigators, "just try it" kids, and anyone else who might come to do any type of physical or emotional harm to your child. I believe it goes by the name of "Mother Bear".

7) Animal/Vegetable/Mineral odor-absorbing spray. Works well on diapers and "mystery" van smells as well. Stops the smell before they even make the stink!

8) Time-released NyQuil air spray. Had a long day? Set it for 7pm, and you'll see the yawning start shortly after dinner, with just enough time to slip them into their jammies before they're out! Got an early riser? Set it to go off around 5:30am. Just as she inhales that first morning's yawn, she's back down for the count, giving you that extra-precious hour (or three) of sleep.

9) The laundry sorter/seperater/folder. A little larger than a snowblower, this device will draw clothing found on the floor, seperating the clean from the dirty. With a flip of the switch, and another pass over the piles, it will seperate the dirty into light/white/dark, or the clean piles into individual size piles. The bonus feature is a folding mechanism. So, while it's a little larger than most, quite a bit more expensive, and takes a couple of different swipes back and forth until it's done- it's completely worth it.

10) The best gift of all? A table full of glue, glitter, cut up pieces of cloth, your favorite pearl necklace cut into pieces, some spilled milk and sugar mixture, sawdust, and half a jar of jelly. If you see this when you wake up, you'd better high-tail it back to bed, becuase you're in for a Mother's Day breakfast (probably 5 lbs of grapenuts with 2 tsp of milk, Jelly with a little bread underneath it, room temperature concentrated orange juice, and a fuzzy jolly rancher from someone's pocket) and the best (and possibly heaviest) Mother's Day card ever! Hallmark can't even compare.

I hope all you Mom's out there have a wonderful day.

Just an afterthought for all the Bishop's/Branch President's/Stake President's out there. Have you ever considered having Mother's Day Sunday be a day where the children show up in their PJ's and enjoy a breakfast at church, while their Mom's have a quiet peace-filled morning beautifying themselves for THEIR day? Just a little bug in your ear (not that carnations aren't nice).

More pictures

Just a couple of B&W to share

Pictures, pictures, everywhere!

Here are some of our latest pictures. Enjoy!

Thank Goodness for Uncles

Ancient Proverb say- "He who go to bed with itchy bottom, wake up with stinky fingah"

Thanks, Clark, for your wise words of wisdom.

My "Bat" Man

After putting the kids to bed the other night (Kate and Enoch in our room, Mia and Aidan in the library), I was holding Ava and talking to Scott about something, when, right in front of me, comes this huge flying thing! I scream, and Scott hits the floor (my brave protector). It flew into our room, where Kate nearly shattered every window with her scream (if she sees an ant, she'll scream so loud you can hear it across the street, if that helps you picture the ear-piercing scream a LARGE object would create). Enoch came running out of the bedroom, screaming like a girl (a NORMAL girl scream, not like Kate's), which of course got Amelia and Aidan screaming THEIR heads off, although they didn't know WHY, yet. Well, it wasn't a bird, and from the title, surely you've guessed that count dracula paid us a visit in his flying form (at least that's what Enoch tried to convince the others). I grabbed the camera, Scott grabbed a laundry basket, and the kids grabbed each other. Ava, on the other hand, just roamed the house, hoping someone had left her a morsel of cookie somewhere. The kids were convinced she would be maimed and killed, and Scott kept repeating that it might have rabies (thanks for calming the kids down, Scott), as for me, I just wanted a really good picture of it. Hey! Hopefully, we won't get this chance very often! Scott kept yelling at me to get the stepstool so he could catch it (it had attached itself to the ceiling vent), while I kept yelling that I needed to get another picture because he wasn't smiling in the last one. Needless to say, Scott was not amused. We caught it in the laundry basket, and took it outside where it flew off (and probably right back into our house again).

Just another night at the Hepworth's!!

"The Family Spring" by Amelia

This is the beginning of a family "magazine" Amelia started on Saturday, March 24, 2007- word for word.

"WOW! It's beautiful, it's in the 50s, 60s and 70s!! (and some rain) Write your favorite moth, season, and tempochure on a peice o paper. Send it to the address below and we will find the most comen one. If yours is in it then you win aprize!! 10101 MiMi av"

Anyone care to vote?

More from Mimi's magazine as it's published!

What's in YOUR wallet (or pocket)?

While picking up Enoch's jeans from the floor, I noticed they weigh about 5 lbs more than HE does. I went digging (and digging, and digging) through his pockets and here is what I found:

1 tube of Snow White chapstick

7 Yu-Gi-Oh cards

1 tube of medicated Blistex

1 post-it note (folded 4 times) revealing a girls drawing of balloon hearts

1 bright orange piece of scrap paper, crumpled up, with the equation 16 x 7 = 112

1 postcard sized piece of cardstock with the beginning drawing of a very nice bird, on the flip side it appears to be crumbs from a million candy bars

A cut-out advertisement for 50% off "Dew Drop" Roses Stems (Reg. $.99)

A pair of fingernail clippers (that we have been looking for for weeks now)

Two medium sized stones

3 heavy metal washers (the circle kind, not the kind you put clothes in- although judging by the weight of his jeans, I wouldn't have been surprised to find that in there as well)

1 blue crayon,oh, pardon me, it's cerulean

1/2 of a watch band

A scout belt loop for archery (no doubt to impress others with)

7 cut-out pictures of various types of jewelry hearts

2 jolly rancher wrappers

1 part of a candy bar wrapper

1 EXTREMELY heavy gold metal type (although Enoch tells me that the friend he traded with assures him it is pure gold) Pokemon card

A folded magazine page advertising a Colts Sports Watch for only three monthly installments of $35!!

A folded magazine page advertising the Complete 8-Coin Year Set of Uncirculated Golden Dollars- Limited Availability! Act Now!!

His wallet (Scott's old eel skin wallet), which contains:

A note from Dakota to Brooke saying, "Brooke, No, I don't like Ashley anymore. She's trying to blame everything that happend (sic) yesterday on me. Randy is always weird. love, Dakota";

A post-it note with some book recommendations from the lady that works at the bookstore- Author, TA Barron- The Lost of Merlin & The Great of Avalon;

Another post-it with more book recommendations- Author R.A. Salvatore- Homeland, Exile, & Sojurn (3 different books);

A "love note" written on black space paper with a white crayon that reads: "To: My Sweet heart, You take me out of my world. XOXO, Tori" On the back is drawn in red crayon a pair of lips and a heart with an arrow through it. The paper has been folded and unfolded so many times, it's falling apart.

A note folded into a teeny tiny square, hidden deep inside the wallet from Enoch that says, "Tori, would you get mad if I don't go out with you for five years?" To which she replied, "no, it's not your falt (sic)."

Another teeny tiny square, hidden equally as well that reads, "It's ok. I'll wait for (picture of a heart) U (picture of a heart)"

Another post-it note tucked away. One side reads, "Did you hear what happend (sic)? Circle on Yes No " with the "No" circled. The other side reads, in what appears to be Enoch's handwriting, "Don't kill Austin, pleas (sic)! Well then ask him if we can be friends"

A pink post-it folded along with the last one that reads (not in Enoch's handwriting) "ask her back out" to which Enoch replied "No." then the word "Why"

Two nickles and two pennies


So, let my kids be warned: If it's laying around (or hidden where you think I'll never find it) you better believe I'm going to read it.

So, what's in YOUR wallet?

Who Fathered Aidan?

Like Ava's nose? No, it's not a cold- it's the result of the pediatrician's office. While sliding down their slide, she did a face-plant right onto the carpet. She only had a red scrape the rest of that day, but when she woke up the next morning, there was this giant SCAB right on the end of her nose. How attractive!

The other day Aidan came up to me and told me that the other kids were really "fathering" him. What?! I replied, not understanding. He was trying to watch a kids show when they kept being loud and "fathering" him. You want to know how horrible of a parent I am? I told Scott he couldn't correct him yet, because I wanted him to sound cute just a little longer.

Yep. They'll all probably end up on Oprah someday, telling how I ruined them forever.

Poor Ava-Doodle

Ava-Doodle is the pet name our pediatrician gave Ava (yes, we see them so often, that they have pet names for our children). This picture is from her hospital stay back in December, and it looks like we may have a few more visits.

Ava has been suffering terribly from intestinal cramping. They have her on 4 medications now, but we are finding very little relief. They did some more bloodwork today, and are going to schedule another colonoscopy/barium enema as well as some colon biopsies done surgically. Please keep her in your prayers, and we'll keep you updated!

Happier posts to follow.

Floor and more

Well, here they are! The "Before" and "After" pictures of our floor. Unfortunately, they aren't the best pictures due to some lighting issues, but hopefully that will be resolved soon! We are finding little paper pieces of the black tar stuff EVERYWHERE! Even in Ava's diaper. Fortunately, I think it was stuffed down there, and not passed TO there.

Monday was a marathon day in the Hepworth house! 5 eye appointments, 1 dentist appointment, a shopping trip, a dollar store trip, and EVERYONE LIVED!! I even had HAIR left by the time I got home! GOOD FOR ME!!

Well, found out a new quirk about Aidan (as if he needs more)- turns out he's color "deficient" (the new term for color blindness that isn't TOTAL color blindness). He can't tell the difference in color variations, and has a hard time between his reds/greens. He can tell the difference between a green sheet of paper and red sheet of paper, but when they do the little color bubble test, that have the numbers in them, he can't see them. Wow! That may explain why his favorite color is pink! Or maybe that's just wishful thinking!

Kate got her spacer in at the dentist. It anchors one molar, up and over(or would it be considered under?) the roof of her mouth, to the other molar, to keep it from moving forward where they had to pull her two molars. She's trying desperately not to "eat" anything using her molars or the roof of her mouth, and it's quite entertaining to watch. She does very well with mandarin oranges. Just sticks them in her mouth and lets them slide down the back of her throat. My, how attractive.

Until next blog...

Into the Sickly Woods

Mia and I had a date last Friday night, and went to the Arts Center in Fort Wayne to watch their theatre production of "Into the Woods". I've seen it several times, and the kids have heard the tape over and over (and over and over). Because we had a BOGO free coupon, we weren't able to get tickets ahead of time, and had to suffer the hands of fate by getting them at the box office. Turns out, the hands of fate were in our favor! Right before we got up to the window, someone cancelled their seats and we ended up four rows back, dead center. It was GREAT! There were quite a few children there, yet during one of the absolute quietest "kissing scenes", mine was the only one to giggle hysterically- and LOUDLY. Ahhh, the joys of youth!

Well, Scott and I are better understanding why they don't call two parents into two presidencies at church. We've been playing "tag teaching" for the last couple of weeks with the kids being sick, but this week both Scott and I were conducting AND teaching. Sure enough, the night before Aidan gets a roaring fever. Scott took Mimi (in her PJs) to church with him for his early morning meeting (she brought her stuff to get ready there), and we stayed home until the last hour. I just laid Aidan on the couch in the foyer- what could I do? It worked out okay, but now we realize that there are several meetings we are both supposed to be in attendance for. AAaarrgghh! The worst part is, I wouldn't want to be released even if I COULD! I love my calling, just need a few extra arms (and legs, and brain cells...the list goes on).

Back to Aidan- turns out he has a roaring case of strep throat, and when I return from his 3 hr long Drs appointment (apparently every kid in Fort Wayne is sick and they all go to OUR DOCTOR) Amelia is laying in our bed, red cheeked and hot as...well, you get the picture. I asked the Doctor if we could just have a long-standing appointment every Monday at 1pm. Chances are, we'd use them, and if not, I'm certain they could find someone to fill our spots. This is the fourth week in a row we've been in his office. You'd think they'd name a wing after us. "The Hepworth Wing for Sick and Confused Children" (I thought "weird" would be too strong of a term - appropriate, but strong). Has quite a ring to it, eh?

Well, back to the pharmacy we call our kitchen. 6 doses of liquid, 5 pills, 4 cups of water, 3 kids, 2 Chocolate bribes, and 1 tube-fed medicine. BLAST-OFF TO CRAZY LAND!!


This is a day only superman can save!

What's going on in class?

Last week, Kate brought home some of her school work. While looking through, I noticed that there was a sheet that asked the children to list some of the classroom rules. One of Kate's? - "Do not kill."

The funniest part? The teacher checked it wrong.

Make's me wonder what's going on in HER class!

IT WORKED

Can you believe the picture posting worked!! Scott's gonna kill me! I decided just to try a stupid picture, since it never works anyway, and, sure enough- there it is!! I guess that's the secret for my pictures. They have to be really bad. I'll try another one, just so you can get the taste of the last picture out of your mouth.

Pew Monkeys Update

Ann inspired me.
I guess it's time to get back on the blog wagon and update.

Enoch is, well, Enoch. It's funny, he's not the typical physical tormentor most boys are. He's the intellectual tormentor. Example: Kate says she's going to let her balloon go up to heaven for Heavenly Father, to which Enoch replies: "Actually, once the balloon gets up too high, the pressure from the altitude will make it burst because..." Example: Kate won't eat most meat because it's an animal, but she WILL eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches, to which Enoch replies, "You know, honey is actually bee barf." "No it's not!" I replied, "Quit telling her things like that!" And, in quips Scott (the tree Enoch's apple doesn't fall far from), "Actually, it is. You see, bees regurgitate the honey from their stomaches..." "AAARRRGGGHHH!" So, Enoch's been reading a set of 30 yr-old encyclopedias lately- I'm pretty sure it's so he can correct anything else that the girls get wrong.

Kate's was sick as a dog for about a week and a half. We finally took her in, and they found an ear infection. I was hoping we were all done with that stage for her, but apparently not. Her spirits did perk up when we brought home two guinea pigs last weekend. She picked one up, and it snuggled right into her, as if it had been looking for her all of it's life. I'm waiting to see them come out of their little huts wearing doll clothes any day now.

Amelia has a new found love for her recorder and our piano. I have a new found respect for deaf people. She has taught herself several songs, and written down all of the notes on a piece of paper, then takes the paper to the piano to play it on there. We think that there's a college girl in our branch that will teach the kids piano. I hope it works out, since she's never taught before. Other than that, Amelia will be seeing an Occupational Therapist for her sensory integration disorder in addition to her regular therapist. In April she'll be seen by the Riley Asperger's Center. It's taken 9 months to get into, so I hope it's worth it!

Aidan is crazy 'ole Aidan. More boy than I can almost handle. When people ask how old he is, he holds up his five fingers, and I reply "He's OFFICIALLY a handful now". He's been sick with ear infections as well, unfortunately it doesn't slow him down much. He's as excited as Kate is to have the guinea pigs, and wants to put their playpen up all the time so he can watch them run around. Poor things, must feel like they live in a glass house being watched all the time. Oh, wait. They do and they are.

Ava has found a new passion for table dancing. Once she discovered that climbing on the chairs will get her to the table where she can be even HIGHER, she hasn't looked back. If we don't gate up the dining room, we know right where to find her. I just hope this isn't a peak into her employment future. While she still doesn't talk, she sure can convey a lot. She's learned some signs (more,food,drink) but gets everything she wants from everyone by just batting her eyelashes- so why talk? Of course, I remain steadfast in the belief that if they can't talk, they can't talk back.

Scott's job is going fantastic. They've been busier than ever. His new calling as EQP is keeping him busy as well. We have finally put some tiles on our entryway, so we don't have to walk on the black sticky tar paper any more. It looks UNBELIEVEABLE! We're supposed to hear from an attorney this week to help us with the contract. We'll let you know how it goes!

Oh! And me. Well, I'm doing pretty good. I'm keeping busy with Relief Society, and kids medical appointments/issues. We average 3-5 appointments a week now between doctors, dentists, optometrists, and therapists. I think I should have a shuttle service! It's definately time for a DVD player in the van. Or muzzles and straightjackets. Whatever keeps 'em quiet.

Well, once again, I'll try to attach some pictures, but I have very little expectations. We'll see.

We love you all,
The Hepworths