Seven down.

 I'm reminded of the bit in The Sound of Music when the Reverend Mother was telling Maria about the governess position.

-Seven children?! 
-Do you like children? 
-Well, yes, but seven! 

I wish I had an audio clip. Her astonishment at "seven" is exactly how I'm feeling now. Seven weeks of summer, gone?! Nonsense. We haven't done half the things we'd planned. I can't have made it through, I expected to be in a rubber room by now, eating jello pushed in through the mail slot and having my meds hand-fed to me by Johnny Depp look-a-likes. Please send me where there are Johnny Depp look-a-likes. 

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So. Yeah. Summer's almost over. Week 7. We cleaned. Ran errands. Lunched in parks. Went to a farm. The usual.

Monday I procrastinated until noon. The weather was gray. The boys stayed in their pjs until bath time. No one napped. I made a ridiculously long list of things that needed to be done around the house. Then amazingly proceeded to do most of them, while the boys played with legos on the floor for 5 hours straight.  True story.

I actually did make those brownies. And folded that laundry. On Thursday, I think.

Tuesday I had a doctor's appointment and no one was available to watch the boys. So, I bribed them with promises of treats (Hey, it worked before!) and off we set. Two cats befriended us and trailed along behind us most of the way. They hid under parked cars and dashed across the busy street. I told the boys the cats would be fine, but I wasn't so sure. We looked for them on the way home, but there were no signs. Hopefully they made it. After the appointment (during which, the boys were reprimanded for drawing on the floor and running up and down the quiet halls with a loud toy on a string - causing Elliot to wonder why they provided that toy in the first place if it was too loud) we did go to a coffee shop for snacks. Again, no one napped. Felix cried the whole way home.

Wednesday, the sitter came. I had more appointments. And brownies. And made up rules with the boys. We have since added on #11 - You don't HAVE to pee but you have to TRY. I heard another mama refer to this rule today, which proved it's validity. Elliot hates this rule.

We don't need no stinkin' rules!

Thursday we went to the library. They weren't on their best behaviour, but they didn't destroy anything.We picnicked for lunch and I fed them frozen yogurt masquerading as ice cream. Even hubby was fooled. No one napped, we made pizza dough and did a whirlwind (and costly) trip to Costco. Hubby came home late, missing bath and bed time again. Bastard. Poor guy.

Friday was fun. We went to the farm. The boys ran here. They ran there. They stepped in cow patties. They complained about stinky pigs. They hid from roosters and tried to pick up unwilling cats. They sweet talked the blacksmith into letting them play with fire - literally - and then he showed them how to make nails. We went on a wagon ride. We went on a nature trail. They slept in the car on the way home and I treated myself to the Starbucks drive thru and even though they screwed up my order twice, I savoured it. My little brother came to visit. It was a very busy day.

Wood shavings. We're still finding them.

Tasty.

Saturday found us all at the Farmer's Market. And making a reward board to go along with the house rules. And playing Wii all afternoon. (Which is awfully hard to do if you've managed to sprain your flexor and extensor tendons. At least it's my non-dominant hand. Apparently, index fingers aren't designed to support one's full weight when leaped on by a 38 pound changeling child.) After bath and bed, I escaped and got groceries all my myself. I ate Pringles under the covers while reading Bossypants. Good times.

Two more weeks, then my (full) time with these little critters angels is done. I'm surprisingly sad. If you'd told me 7 weeks ago I'd be feeling this way, I'd a slapped you. Though, I am looking forward to it and according to my therapist, I'm "over-contacted" and in need of some alone time. I love being with them, but when they don't get the frack off me already, things get tense. I'm a work in progress. September brings change. I can embrace it.

Heart melting. They know just how to work the system.

Missed every little detail of our summer vacation so far? Well catch up, already! Weeks 1, 2, 3, 4. 5 and 6.

Celebrity crushes

So I have a thing for Pacey.

Ok, ok.

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But Joshua Jackson's smoldering Peter Bishop makes me melt. The chemistry between his character and Anna Torv's Olivia is intense. The fierce protectiveness he has towards her, the tenderness. It makes me ache. After each episode, I'm left wanting more. More emotion, more development. The not-quite unrequited-ness of it tears at me. I dream about it.

Which probably isn't a healthy thing. It's an addiction, drawing me into the program, giving birth to the characters, bringing them to life all around me. ...But I'm going with it.

This crush is different from the lust I have towards Johnny Depp. Yes, it's cliche, but Captain Jack Sparrow makes me swoon. It's not often I am overwhelmed with the urge to lick someone. And that spark flickers in all of his character portrayals, no matter how oddball.

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I told hubby last year if he dressed as Jack Sparrow for Halloween, I would toss the boys and the candy out in the street and we would cancel trick-or-treating. He was tempted, I'm sure. But maintains that he's not going to stoop to that level. Ever. And by that he means that the "Sexy Pirate" costume is everywhere and overrated. And so he won't. But I can dream. And come on - he's already got the hair going for him! Add in that drawling never-may-care accent and I'll puddle right then and there. BTW, that offer still stands, honey.

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Jeff Goldblum. Now that's one you probably wouldn't expect. But he's got that same fierceness, a dark magnetism beneath the surface, and I'm captivated.

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Benjamin Bratt. *drool* I was a wavering fan of Private Practice until this season... then he joined the cast. He's been on my radar for years. And now he's front and centre. Makes me happy. And a bit weirded out because sometimes he reminds me of my dad, who is of French-Acadian decent, dark toned and oft mustachioed. (And who is a reader of this blog - let's all say HI to Rainy's dad!)

I'm trending, I know. Tall, dark and ruggedly handsome. With layers and often severe character flaws. But it's the devotion, the near worship of their female counterparts, that makes me quiver. The rawness that seeps out. Makes me feel like I'm right there, that it's all for me.

Give all those writers and directors a hand. They have hit their target market. Well done. And thank you. More, please. Me thinks I watch faaaaaar to much television.

But now, I'll go cuddle up with this guy - my best and lasting trend.

*mwa*