of the fence

Someone bought the house behind us and is doing all sorts of noisy improvements. Yesterday the rotting back fence came down and Harper and Hudson spent the morning swinging backwards so they could marvel at our "new, bigger" backyard that HAS A SWIMMING POOL! Harper was making all sorts of summer plans for the new pool so I had to break it to her that a new fence was going up before the day was done, and that good fences make good neighbors and all of that. Hudson was entranced with the post hole digger. I'm sure that Pedro has never had a more appreciative audience for his post hole digging prowess. In spite of the morning's entertainment, the fence building was a minor annoyance because it required me to put the dog in the house. Which required me to first give her a bath. Which then required me to scrub the tub for approximately 45 minutes to get it back to its gleaming state of Dingy Grey. And you know, you can spend 30 minutes giving a dog a bath (and then 45 minutes cleaning the tub, I mentioned that, right?)and the dog will still smell pretty much like a dog. And while all of this dog washing and tub cleaning are going on, the children will be watching, in a single morning, the two hours of television the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends PER WEEK. Speaking of exercises in household cleaning futility, I mopped the kitchen floor this morning because when I put Helena in her highchair for breakfast, I noticed the bottoms of her feet were alarmingly filthy. (Sensing a pattern? I seem to clean only when there is a crisis of filth) So I swiffered then mopped and the floor looked somewhat clean until about 30 minutes later when the kids came in from the backyard and tracked in wet leaves and grass and mud. Then had lunch and crumbled everything everywhere. Speaking of feet, Harper says "have feet" instead of saying "go barefoot." For example, if we are at the park and some kid takes off his shoes, she will say, "Why does he get to have his feet, Mommy? I want to have my feet too" Or "I don't like to have my feet in the kitchen because the floor is very crumbly, so I am going to wear my flipflops." I noticed today that Hudson says it too.

I got to go to the rodeo with my friend Laura on Monday night. We ate fried Oreos (yep) and we watched bull riding and barrel racing and mutton bustin' (where kids Harper's age ride crazed sheep. HIGH-larious). We also got to see Mr. Tim McGraw, who made around 400 (I'd guess) audience members love him forever by walking around the entire periphery of the rodeo ring (while singing several songs) and shaking every single hand that reached out. It was sweet, even though the germaphobia by proxy that I get from the husband had me thinking that Tim McGraw's hand could be the Broad Street Pump of the 2010 Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

Yesterday was the husband's birthday. He tends us, his little flock, so very well. We love him one million.