The 'Stache

Okay so I need to put this to a vote and I am asking you fine people out there to help me decide what to do. Even you stalkers who never comment, please take half a second to vote please- I promise it will be anonymous. Ü

My kid is starting to grow a mustache. He's only in seventh grade. He's only technically been a teenager for less than a week, but for quite a while now it's been looking like he's got a dirty upper lip. Or that maybe he's been playing in my mascara.

He gets it from his dad. His dad was shaving daily by the time he was fourteen. He doesn't want Nick to start shaving yet. Not because he's proud of his manly little boy and his facial hair, but because once you start shaving, there's no going back.

John hates shaving. It's the bane of his existence. When I first met him he was sporting his own mustache. I hated it. Truthfully, he's lucky I went out with him at all in the first place. It's a good thing for him that I could see past the ugly caterpillar growing on his upper lip that made him look like a sleazy used car salesman to the great guy behind it. All that was missing were the alligator skin shoes. (good thing for him he didn't own any, because they would have been a deal breaker). When we got serious I made him shave it off.

Later after we were married, he would grow a full beard in the winter time. He said it kept him warm -especially while skiing. I wasn't too keen on that either. But I couldn't blame him for not wanting to shave. The grizzly Adams look was better than the sleazy salesman look, but I'm just not a fan of facial hair. At least on someone who wants to kiss me. It gives me whisker burn and hurts my face and tickles my nose. And now that we don't live in a state with temperatures that dip below zero, and he doesn't have the problem of keeping his face warm while he skis, he hasn't sported a beard in a decade.

Now of course my objection to Nick's facial hair has nothing to do with my own comfort- I'm just not a fan of looking at his dirty lip/got into his mom's mascara/wanna-be sleazy salesman look. But I think he likes it. He's excited to be getting older, and it's something quantifiable that he can add to the list that proves he's growing up.

Almost as tall as mom- check!

Feet are bigger than dad's- check!

cell phone- check!

officially a teenager- check!

facial hair- check!

The only things left are to finally be taller than his parents, get a real job, and drive a car.

So- I would like to put it to a vote. I figure the three options are- wax it, (he's pretty adverse to this idea-it sounds painful) bleach it, (he's okay with this plan) or just leave it. What do you think? I'd really like some feedback here.

There's a little voting box thing on the top right side. Just click on your favorite selection. You have about a week to help me decide. Thanks!

how I wore my hair to church yesterday

So you all know my lack of hair skills are pretty pathetic. I admit I could use some serious help. Unfortunately most of the time I really don't care.

Madison is of course the real victim. While other little girls have mommies who can french braid or send them to church with elaborate 'do's, my little girl has to be content with a headband and the occasional (very occasional) curl from the curling iron.

However I have a friend who has magic fingers. I attribute it to her skill as a harpist. Sometimes, on the rare occasion we get together, she says- "So, you want me to braid your hair?" (She would have braided Maddies, be it was a little short.)

Yes folks, that is a FIVE strand french braid. Pretty cool, eh?

So, that was Saturday night- I wore it to church like that on Sunday, forgot to change the hair elastics so they matched, slept in it again last night, and now I'm off to the mall sporting the same hairstyle with my good friend Mindy (poor girl- she's a shopaholic living in a small town with only a wal-mart to meet her needs).

Merry Christmas!

Here's hoping you all had a very merry Christmas.

We sure did.

John's mom was able to come down and spend the week with us and the kids had a wonderful time running her ragged. She made Swedish pancakes each and every morning, and we went through more eggs than you would believe, but the kids couldn't get enough.

Santa made his annual stop despite Madison's fears that her brothers would keep him away because they wouldn't go to sleep. The kids were all thrilled with their presents. Santa brought the boys all skateboards (even Christopher) and Madison got a pink scooter, so they took advantage of all the closed stores to play in the parking lots near our home.

The festivities aren't over yet, friends will be arriving tomorrow to spend a few days, and then my parents are coming to spend New Years with us.

I love this time of year. Spending time with family and friends. Seeing the magic and wonder in little kids eyes when they see the tree all lit, with presents underneath, and a stocking full of treats.

Thinking of your friends and neighbors and fellow man and showing your love and appreciation for them through a plate of goodies or a bag of caramels.

While the commercialism of the season can certainly be distracting, I am grateful for the opportunity to celebrate the birth of my Savior. The food and the lights and the decorations and the presents are all great and wonderful, and I enjoy those things very much, but even more so I feel so blessed to know that in the humblest of circumstances, halfway across the world, a long time ago, a baby was born into this world to save us all.

May we all strive to keep Christmas in our hearts year round.

Happy Birthday Nick!

Aaaack!!! I'm the mother of a teenager!!! I can't believe it! 13 years old!! How did that happen? My teeniest baby is getting bigger by the day. (much to his delight) I swear some days you can watch him grow. His feet are already bigger than his dad's.

Truthfully though, I couldn't ask for a better kid. He's such a great kid, and a great big brother, and I am so proud of him for so many things.

I love you Nick. You're awesome.

Gingerbread parties

Growing up near family, there were many opportunities to spend time with family. Christmas just wasn't Christmas without busily traveling around to spend time with all the aunts, uncles, and cousins.

When John and I were first married, that travel schedule nearly doubled as now we needed to spend time with each other's families during the holidays.

It was crazy, but nice to feel surrounded by loved ones.

And then we moved 800 miles away.

It took us awhile to adjust, and more often than not we have grandparents visit us for the Holidays, but I still felt (feel) bad about not being able to give my kids what I had growing up.

Let me leave you with that thought as I shift gears here for a second.

Several (7 or 8) years ago our family got our first invite to a gingerbread house making party from our good friends who lived across the street. It was a tradition in her family when she was growing up. Their mother would make a bunch of gingerbread houses and invite family and friends over and have a party and make gingerbread houses. It had become such a part of the Christmas Holiday to her that she couldn't "get in the Christmas spirit" until she had a party. (She was living far away from her family then too.)

After a couple years of going to gingerbread parties at her house, we both ended up moving away within weeks of each other. We only moved a couple of miles down the road, but her family moved many hundred miles away back to her home town.

That December I was a little depressed. I actually pouted because I was not going to get invited to a party that year. Boo-hoo. Poor me.

It actually took me awhile to come to the realization that if it mattered that much to me, then I should throw a party myself.

I make the gingerbread house parts, and the icing, and make up some wassail, and each family brings a couple of bags of candy and possibly an appetizer or some other treat to munch on, and we listen to Christmas music until someone else convinces John to change it to football. And each family makes a gingerbread house. And that's it.

Now it's part of what we do. My kids have come to expect it year after year. And it's a tradition that I can give my kids. I might not be able to surround them with family and cousins, but we have friends.

We love it, but it causes me much stress. Cleaning, and baking, and the guest list. Mostly the guest list. This year we threw three parties because I have a hard time not inviting everyone. I have pretty much figured out that we can invite only 6 families per party. I have two tables, and borrow a third, and that means that two families have to share each table. Even if I were to figure out how to squeeze more people into the house, it's just too crazy and then we don't get the opportunity to visit with everybody. And that's the fun part for John and I.

But I really stress over the guest list. There are those friends who have been coming for years, and friends we have become close with, and then there are those that we would like to get to know better, and my kids always have requests, and it's hard to make those decisions. And I worry about offending people or hurting their feelings. And then I think that maybe it's just a dumb party and my friends humor me and show up because they like me and they have nothing else going on. (I plan them on Monday nights for FHE, and most people have Monday nights free)

And then I hear other things. One year I didn't have a party because I was pregnant and sick, and one friend said "oh good, I just thought you didn't invite us, and I was feeling really bad." And someone else said, "we had so much fun, thanks for inviting us, it's a tradition now in our family. We don't have many, but coming to your party is one of them." and someone else said that one person was telling her how happy they were that they "finally got invited to a gingerbread party." And then last summer there was the lady who cornered me and asked why she had never been invited. Her kids were all grown, and I didn't think she was interested. She brought her grand kids this year. Their mom was sick and in the hospital. She told me it was a highlight for the kids this month.

And we love it. The kids are in charge of decorating one gingerbread house for us, and it generally takes all three parties to get it done because they would rather run off and play with whatever kids they can drag away. Madison did most of the work this year. The garden is very extensive, it even has a swimming pool.

I added that window. Admit it, you're impressed.

When she was finished she said she couldn't fit one more piece of candy on the house.

you know you watch too many murder mystery shows when...

Disclaimer- I'm hopped up on a couple percocets at the moment so if I sound at all crazy, it's because I probably am.

So I admit it, I get little itty bitty crushes on certain tv/movie/music and even book personalities.

For instance, Harry Connick jr has made me swoon since high school. I've had a longer relationship with him than I have my own husband.

In books I have Edward and Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy also falls into the movie category as well, but only the A&E version. Edward doesn't make it into the movies, I switched teams and am all about team Jacob. I try not to think about the fact that I am twice his age, cause that's just creepy.

Growing up with the TV, I have always had crushes on one character or another- Alex P. Keaton on Family Ties, Mike Seaver on Growing Pains, David Addison on Moonlighting, amongst others.

Lately there's been Jim Halpert on The Office, although now that he's married and a manager, he's kinda boring. Chuck Bartowski on Chuck is pretty cute in a geeky kind of way (obviously I must have a thing for geeks since I married one) and then there's FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth of Bones. I think he's topping my list these days.

And to be clear, it's just the fictional characters, not necessarily the actors themselves. After I got into Bones I tried to watch the tv show Angel because back when it was popular, and I would hear people gushing over David Boreanaz, I never could understand what the big deal was. And frankly I still don't see the attraction- in Angel. And I really could care less about any interviews he does, whether he's on any talk shows promoting Bones, because I really could care less about David Boreanaz the actor- I like FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. Oddly it's like the characters themselves are more real to me than the actors- I imagine that they (the actors) are so far removed from the general population due to being so rich and famous that they cease to be real people. Make sense?

So as I mentioned Seeley Booth is sorta my number one fictional boyfriend this week. I share this with you today because in a twisted, morbid way it helped me get through my ordeal at the oral surgeon's today as they were using a jack hammer to dig out my tooth, which was a hundred times worse than the bone graft which I thought sounded really scary but every bit as bad as I thought the actual extraction was going to be.

I was thinking how if I were to be murdered and buried in an unmarked grave somewhere and years later when my body was found but all that was left of me was my bones, this might help them figure out my identity. Bone graft... titanium screw in my jaw...those should be helpful right? Of course in my head my remains were laid out on a table at the Jeffersonian with Dr. Brennan and her squints pouring over then for evidence.

And then some lucky person(s) will be questioned by Booth. And hopefully an arrest made. Hopefully it wasn't John in some jealous rage over my fictional boyfriends.

Body parts

The other day Christopher and I were driving around running errands and I happened to notice something out my side view mirror.
First there was his hand, and then...


Apparently he had learned to roll down the window and decided to take advantage of the lovely weather we are having here.

Nothing like a nice breeze blowing through your piggies.

"I can't believe you're not crying..."

so I'm in a crabberific mood today. Maybe it's PMS. I don't know. Maybe it's all of my kids continual fighting, the fact that John is working when he's supposed to be on vacation, that I think I forgot to put in the vanilla on my last batch of caramels, this stinking headache that won't go away, the fact that I need to go out and face the crowds because I still need a couple of last minute things that I need to ship, (which also means a trip to the post office) or this stupid, stinking tooth that I need to have yanked (actually dug out) of my mouth, and it is bugging me.

So it's karma at it's finest when you crack a tooth on a piece of candy you stole from your kid. Candy that had been sitting on his dresser since Halloween. I thought it was just a harmless gumball, but it was really an evil jawbreaker.

And I chomped down on it.

And cracked a tooth.

Under a crown.

Clear down to the root.

It can't be salvaged.

They say there is nothing they can do except "extract it". I have to go an oral surgeon. Where they will talk me into an expensive and what sounds to be very painful implant. And apparently the whole process takes MONTHS. There are a couple recovery periods of several weeks while they wait for the swelling to go down. (Fun, no?)

When the dentist explained all this to me- I thought all they had to do was a simple fix because my crown seemed to have come loose- I sat there totally stunned and in shock, and the dental hygienist says to me "I can't believe you're not crying. If it were me, I'd be crying."

Gee, thanks. I feel so much better.

Truthfully I was actually debating between crying and throwing up.

as a little child...

I'm loving having a three year old in the house this time of year. The magic of the season might be lost on me, being chained to the stove and all, but at least I get to watch Christopher experience it for what might be the first time in his little memory.

He's thrilled with the tree and the lights and the music and with the fact that there is a constant supply of caramels to snitch. He prefers the plain ones of course. The pecan ones require a more sophisticated palate.

He loves to play with his Little People Nativity set, and show me his "Jesus baby".

The other day a friend of mine came over for some caramel instruction. She brought her own three year old with her. Christopher dragged this little boy into our living room and showed him our Christmas tree proudly exclaiming= "Chrisiss!! Chrisiss!!"

I am sure he thought this little boy must have never seen anything so wonderful in his entire life. I don't think he understands that the culmination of all the festivities leads up to one morning of presents and candy and such. He's just happy to enjoy the rest of the things this Christmas season has to offer.

With all the chaos and busy-ness that generally surrounds us this time of year, I am grateful for a little boy who reminds me to just enjoy the moment.

Summer School

Why am I thinking about summer school in the middle of December?

Let me tell you why-

I got the official phone call from Nicks HONORS math teacher on Friday that he has failed math and will need to repeat the first semester of math.

In other words- most likely summer school.

We're crossing our fingers there's an Internet option, but we're not holding our breath.

Several unanswered questions are out there floating around-

How, how, how, did he fail math? Especially when NOBODY thinks the work load is too hard and that he should be put in regular seventh grade math. Not Nick, not me, not even his teacher. We all know he is where he belongs.

He does great in class. He participates, he loves the class, he does his in class work- the problem occurs when the teacher sends home homework. Assignments get forgotten, only partially completed, I think he even forgets to put his name on things. He doesn't study for quizzes, then does poorly on them.

He studied for his final, and did pretty well, but he had dug himself into such a deep hole he would have needed like 150% on the test to rescue himself from failure. Obviously that didn't happen.

So our plans for the summer are up in the air. Vacations? Boy scout campouts? Swim team? Who knows.

I am crossing my fingers that this is the wake-up call. Not getting to play on the school football team wasn't it. Getting kicked out of Honors English wasn't it. Watching his mother have an emotional break down wasn't it. Spending the last four years grounded hasn't been it either.

To Do list before Christmas

-Make more Caramels (half a dozen more batches? Ten, tops)
-Ship presents, caramels
-find presents for niece and nephew.
-Finish Christmas cards
-Make cookies for Santa
-Clean house
-Get tooth extracted (at least by the end of the year)
-Take the kids to see the lights
-Plan menu for Christmas
-Birthday cake for Nick
-Finish Maddie's room (that I started in June)
-return hat to friend in exchange for caulking gun that I borrowed last June to work on Maddie's room, never used, and returned when she needed it back.
-visiting teaching
-Buy mattress for Nick
-Move Nick's old bed into Christopher's room so Christopher can be a big boy and move out of the crib.
-update blogs- (my food blog is even more pathetic)
-boys haircuts
-deliver "secret sister" gifts
-enjoy what is left of the season
-go to the gym
-spend quality time with kids/hubby
-finish wrapping presents

I think that's it. It's probably not though.

Maybe I should add "clone self" to that list, but I don't know when I'll be able to get around to it.

Christmas miracle #2

Out of the blue, John spent several hours wrapping presents the other day. Not just wrapping, but cataloging in Excel to keep track of what we have, what we spent, and what we need to get. (Grandparents find it easier to send money and we do the shopping- it's win-win for the grandparents and the kids, but for a scatterbrain like me, I sometimes have trouble keeping track of which presents are from whom.)

He's never done that before. That is generally an activity done by me, alone, in the quiet hours of the night while every one else sleeps. I think he realized that since I have been spending those hours making caramels, the kids were in danger of having all their presents wrapped in trash bags. Or Target shopping bags. Depending on the size of the present.

Better get back to those caramels. They won't cook themselves. TTFN

"Yay! E-nock!"

It will be a sad day indeed when you can't find egg nog in the grocery stores. Not for me of course, I'm not a fan, give me hot cocoa instead any day, but for Christopher it will be.

We can't pass the dairy case in the grocery store without him exclaiming loudly for all to hear "E-nock!!! E-nock!!!!" until the said bottle of goodness ends up in the cart. Then I am rewarded with "Yay! E-nock!" (I mean really, how could I possibly say no?) I frequently catch people laughing out of the corner of my eye.

At home a typical conversation will go like this-

Christopher- "E-nock! E-nock!".

Me- "What do you say?"

C- "Weez! Weez! Weez! Weez! Weez!" -as he frantically rubs his belly in his version of baby sign language.

(Again, I ask- how can I say no?)

Me- "Ok. here you go"

C- "Dank you e-nock."

At least it's only for a month or so. That stuff is expensive. I don't think we could afford it year round.

Forgive me. I'll do better. I promise.

A couple of days ago I got an e-mail from a friend who moved away recently letting me know that my pleas had not fallen on deaf ears- she had recently started a blog. She's a funny, smart, lady and I knew that if I could get her to write I would be entertained by her wit and humor although they've now moved a state away.

Then, I got a phone call from my sister in law today- she wanted help setting up a blog. I've been bugging her since nearly the day I started mine, that she needed to start a blog. They live in Texas and we see each other so rarely, blogging is such a great way to keep in touch and share what is going on in our lives. And the stories that filter out of Texas all too rarely never cease to amuse and entertain us as well.

But she's busy. Super busy. Mother to three kids with active lives, church callings, work, etc. She's the kind of person that makes you tired (and lazy) just listening to the things they've got going on. Despite having piles and piles of blogging material, she would probably have to choose between sleep and blogging.

I am happy to hear she finally chose blogging. Who needs sleep anyways?

So long story short, I am feeling a little guilty and hypocritical these days. Finally convincing others to blog, but I've written, what, like twice in three weeks?

Also there's the fact that there are little things to blog about. Madison and I shared a birthday the other day. Gingerbread houses. Christopher's new excitement for the season. How wonderful it is to have a three year old in the house this time of year.

Also, I want to have my blog published into hard bound books to keep in our family library for years to come. I plan to do a volume a year, and I need to publish 2008, and soon 2009, and would feel pretty bad later if 2009 only contained 11 months.

So, with renewed motivation, I am committing to do better. I'm still chained to my stove most of the day, and I can't make promises of lengthy posts with lots of pictures, full of creative, witty thoughts, but I recognize that at least in my own life, something, anything, is better than nothing.

Madison's birthday party

Ever since she went ice skating for the very first time a year ago with the girl scouts, Madison knew what she wanted to do for her birthday party- go ice skating.

So after cake and ice-cream, I handed out matching gloves and hats, (found in the Target dollar section) loaded up the car with as many girls as could safely fit, and we were off!

Some of the girls were pretty nervous as this was their first time, and a couple of them nearly had their moms come and get them after cake was consumed and presents were opened. Luckily peer pressure won out, and not a single girl went home early.

I admit to being a little nervous about taking seven girls ice-skating all by myself, and it didn't help much when the cashier told me I was brave to undertake this all on my own, but I was pleasantly surprised at how much fun I had.

I'm not a great skater, or even a good one, and for the most part I just pride myself on being able to stay erect and making it home without any major injuries (bruises from falling don't count), but I love skating anyway.

The girls were all super well behaved, they got along fabulously, I don't think any one girl ever felt left out, and no one got hurt (with the exception of a few bruises and blisters).

Of the two girls who were the most afraid to go, one of them took to it instantly, (but she loves to rollerblade) and the other one was my buddy the whole time. Which was fine with me- we had a good time together.

Besides having a good time, I had fun getting to know Madison's friends better. What a bunch of silly, funny, cute, smart, kind, beautiful girls. I think she has a lot of really great friends. I don't think I could have picked better ones for her.

Oh, and just in case any one was wondering whether the year long wait was worth it for her- it was- she said it was the best birthday ever.

Happy 10th birthday Madison!

Happy birthday to my one and only baby girl. You're beautiful inside and out. I love you!!

My Christmas Miracle

John put up lights on the outside of the house.

Before December.

Without any whining, begging, pleading, etc, from the kids or I.

It's been so long since we've had Christmas lights I had given up asking.

In fact, I was starting to count down the years until Nick could do it by himself.

Why, you ask?

John, aka the Grinch, hates Christmas lights. "They waste money and time- two things that are in short supply this time of year."

So what happened? I'm not really sure, but the Grinch has yet to make an appearance at all this year, and I couldn't be happier.

caramels, caramels, and more caramels

Just in case people start to wonder if I've fallen off the planet- this-is going to be my life for the next few weeks.

It leaves little time for blogging or doing anything interesting worth blogging about.- FYI

New Moon

So we all know I wouldn't be able to not say something about New Moon. I would have written sooner, but I was pretty brain dead from only getting about 3 1/2 hours of sleep, so I thought I'd wait until I was a little more awake and coherent.

I totally loved it. So much better than Twilight.

A friend of mine was going to the midnight showing with some of her friends and she knew I had a hard time getting people to go with me to the Twilight midnight showing, so she got a second ticket for me just in case I was interested.

She had other obligations that were going to keep her busy until 10:30 that night, so her friends were going to save us places and she'd come and pick me up and we'd show up at the theater around 11pm.

Well, gee, if you're gonna twist my arm and tell me it's already paid for, and drive me there, and I won't have to stand in line and I could still tuck my kids in, well then maybe I could suffer through the movie. (just in case you couldn't tell, because sarcasm doesn't translate very well in the written word, I was being just a little sarcastic there.)

As far as the movie is concerned I am even switching teams. In the books, I am team Edward, in the movie, well, I have to admit that I'm now team Jacob.

I think my favorite quote from the daughter of a friend of mine was that "Edward looked like a dead twig next to Jacob's six-pack." That about sums it up.

No, seriously though, for the most part the acting was better, the special effects were definitely better (the bigger budget probably helped) the directing was better, and as an added bonus you got to watch Jacob Black run around shirtless for much of the movie. I tried not to think about the fact that he's half my age.

I can't wait to see it again. Seriously. If anybody wants to go for a first, second, or fourteenth time, give me a call.

I can't win!!!

ugh. okay so I love stale marshmallows. maybe that's weird. I don't know. I don't love them when they are super rock hard stale, just really chewy with a slight crust on the outside.

Unfortunately I can never get them at that stage.

Generally speaking, I am not a huge marshmallow fan, I like them, and if a bag is open I will mindlessly eat them, but I don't crave them or anything.

Let me explain-

So say for instance I buy a bag of marshmallows to make rice krispy treats to use up some of the stale rice krispies taking up space in my pantry- well, one of my younger kids will notice the bag, rip it open in the middle, then proceed to eat them all. (admittedly, I help)

So, no rice krispy treats, no stale marshmallows either.

Somehow miraculously, I managed to make a batch of rice krispy treats the other day. Then I was super sneaky and hid the leftovers on a higher shelf in the back, leaving the bag nice and open to achieve perfect staleness.

I checked on them every day. I was so proud of myself for showing restraint. I did sacrifice a small handful to a cup of hot cocoa, but that was for a good cause.

So yesterday, I got all excited thinking they were just about perfect, and what do you know? The bag was gone. No one is taking credit. Grrrr.

-edit- for those of you who were bugged by my use of a double negative earlier in the post, fear not, I have fixed it. You have my mother to thank.

This one's for you, Daddy-

He loves the present you brought him the last time you were out of town. Just thought you should know.

Frankly, I'm surprised I haven't done this before.

Let me paint a picture for you- It is a beautiful Sunday morning. The weather outside is gorgeous, but I am sitting inside thoroughly enjoying the Primary program that is being presented to us this day. We got to church on time, Nick saved us a seat (because he has to be there super early) and Christopher is behaving himself, for the most part anyway. I have to remind him to be quiet, and shush him a little bit, but at least I am sitting on a comfortable bench, listening to my two middle children sing their primary songs. The only thing that would have made it better is if John were in town, but I'll take what I can get. I have no other complaints.

And then, with 15 minutes to spare, I feel a little tickle in the back of my throat. I try to clear my throat, but that doesn't work. I can feel a cough coming on. And not just any cough- the loud, hacking, body bent over double kind. And I'm not even sick. I promise. I frantically grab a mint from my purse, thankfully I still had a couple Halls cough drops left over from my last cold 3 months ago, but it's too late. I can feel it building, and I know if I don't get out of there fast, I am going to hack all over the poor family with their little kids in front of us.

I was going to make a scene. And people were going to turn around and stare, and maybe give me dirty looks like I had the plague or something.

What I needed was to excuse myself quickly and discretely so I could hack up my lung in the hallway on the way to the drinking fountain.

Unfortunately Christopher saw me start to leave and he decided to accompany me, and the combination of his feet, the fact that I was wearing heels, and my complete lack of grace prevented my discrete departure. Much to the amusement of the people in the rows behind us, I fell flat on my face in the aisle.

I recovered as quickly as possible, leaving only a layer of skin off my knee and my dignity behind.

Naturally I couldn't go back in when everything was under control and a band aid was located, so Christopher and I went and hung out in the nursery and set up chairs and stuff.

After church a friend came up to me and said "I just have to give you a hug. You have been the bright spot in my day all day. Every time I think of you, I laugh."

Glad I could be of service. (I'm also really glad my dress didn't fly up- cause wow, nobody needs to see that)

Friendship bracelets

When I was younger I used to love to make friendship bracelets. The kind where you tie knots out of different colors of embroidery floss to make stripes. I was pretty awesome at it.

Girls Camp 1988, Age-12

It was the only time that I could think of that I felt any joy in a sewing aisle. I swear the little bundles of string were only 10 for a dollar, and I felt like a kid in a candy store. There was every shade imaginable. I liked the variegated colors alot, where they would start off a darker shade, then slowly fade and then get darker again. One end of the bracelet would end up looking completely different than the other end. I could make them in any size, and I even think I made some with a V design rather than the basic slanted stripe design. I never got more intricate than that though.

I would give some away, but I mostly just made them for myself. Not because I was selfish, I just didn't have a lot of friends to give them to, and then if I had a friend I would think about giving them to, I'd get panicky that maybe they wouldn't want it, because by accepting it, they would feel obligated to be my friend and they really didn't want to be, I was just misconstruing politeness on their part for friendship, and they might think I was pathetic like I was trying to buy their friendship with my lame-o bracelet, or some other line of reasoning similar to that, so I ended up keeping most of them.

If you tied it on tight enough you could go MONTHS without having to take them off. I even wore the anklets I made to church underneath my nylons. Tacky? Who? Not me. (Yes, believe it or not, I used to own nylons.)

So it was with great joy the other day that Madison started talking about friendship bracelets. And all the friends she wanted to give them to. I'm not sure what she was envisioning in her head, but I ran upstairs and dug out my old collection of embroidery floss. (I think I was saving it in the hopes that someday this day would come. Someday I would be able to share this little talent of mine with my own little girl.)

She was pretty excited. (And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't) She picked it up pretty quick, but I had to stay close by when she got stuck. And undo a knot or two. I made her an anklet (cause that was my favorite place to wear them) and she's making me a matching bracelet (cause there's not enough string for another anklet.) She has plans to make some for each of her friends. She doesn't suffer from the same insecurities as I did. I have plans to introduce her to the joy that is the embroidery section of the craft store.
Additionally, (although I am THE LAST person to judge what is currently in style and I feel like a total mom- in other words clueless- when I say this, but) I'm thinking that the bracelets might be retro enough to kinda be cool or hip again, (if they ever were) or whatever it is the kids are calling it these days. Either way, I hope she has some fun with it.

you know your husband travels alot when...

You can't remember what state he's currently in, nor do you really care, because they all just seem to blend together. Ohio...Missouri...Texas...California... OhMisTexnia.

You get a better night's sleep when he's gone.

After a month of being a single car family, you're still excited with that plan.

Your oldest child makes the observation that his dad is gone so much it's like his parents are divorced.

Minus the ugly, painful, devastating part of actually getting the divorce of course. And I still get to be a stay at home mom.

On the plus side, John has traveled so much this year he's already earned me another "companion pass". Which means wherever he goes in the year 2010, I can go with him.

I just have to carefully, selectively choose when to use it (San Francisco, Seattle this year) because it's hard enough on the kids only having only one parent around, I don't need them feeling like orphans. (Besides, 95% of the places John goes, I have no desire to)

More striking similarities

The movie New Moon is coming out in 10 days. That should be more than enough time for me to (re) read the book. I'm becoming ever doubtful. If Christopher catches me reading something I am interested in, he will quickly replace that book with one of his own choosing. (Like a Cars book). It's hard to say no to that little face when he says "Weeze?" (Please)

In the space of 15 minutes this morning I read 4 different Cars books, and 1.5 pages of my book.

It was this same behavior from his older brother that caused the "Great Book Drought" a decade ago. By the time I was allowed to read what I wanted to, I had no idea what to read. I will be forever grateful to JK Rowling for reminding me just how much I loved to read.

Don't worry about me though. I'm older and crankier, and I have better hiding spots.

From out of nowhere, Christopher has recently decided he loves "Ostoy". (Toy Story) I do seem to recall another little boy who was fairly obsessed with Buzz Lightyear as well.

Bad boy

The big question on my kids' minds these past few years is when are they going to get a cell phone. Remember this post? Our answer has always been the same "When you need one."

Well, after wishing on a daily basis that I could get a hold of Nick, and freaking out that his ride would be coming to get him for his East Valley Youth Symphony practice on their picture day so he needed to be dressed up -bow tie and all, and I had NO IDEA where he was or when he was going to be home because he got 9th hour (again) but for whatever reason couldn't call, and the bus was late (as usual), I announced to John that Nick would be getting a cell phone the next day.

It was time. It wasn't a matter of Nick needing one, it was a matter me needing Nick to get one.

We picked out a fun one, wrapped it in birthday wrapping paper and called it an early present. He's thrilled of course. He's got it mostly figured out. It even has a camera in it. We've already had to take it away from him today for awhile because instead of doing his chores he was taking pictures of everything. Including a picture of his cellphone, and somehow by using the bathroom mirror and a hand held mirror, he has a picture of his phone, front and back in one shot.

Tomorrow is church- 8:00 am. He has to be there at 6:30 for a Deacon's presidency meeting and to set up chairs since we are the first ward in the building. The rest of us arrive sometime after 8:00. We have to sneak in the back and sit on the hard metal chairs. Nick has tried to save seats for us on the cushy benches, but I'm not about to walk in 10 minutes into it and look to see if he happened to save seats, without a clue where they might be. (Our usual seats are in the back, on the hard metal chairs)

So anyways, he got all excited and said "Now that I have a cell phone I can save a seat for you and then text you and let you know where it is!"

I feigned shock- "You're going to text me from church!?!?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a bad boy. Rebel to the core."

Is this Irony?

I didn't pay a whole lot of attention in English. It wasn't one of my more favorite subjects. I like to read, and write, but I am 99% sure my grammar is atrocious. I really could not figure out why anyone cared what a subject or a predicate was. And what the heck is a dangling participle? And when do you use a semi-colon? These are questions I really don't care if I ever get the answers to. Picking apart sentences is one of my least favorite things to do. And then there are the definitions of literary terms. Like irony. I hate to use the term, because I am fairly certain I am using it wrong, and I think the mass public is probably misusing it as well too.

I've heard that with the advent of the popular song several years ago by Alanis Morisette "Ironic" the incidences of people misusing the term has increased ten fold. "It's like rain on your wedding day, it's the free ride when you've already paid, it's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife...isn't it ironic, don'tcha think?" I want to say it's just coincidence. (But I am really not qualified to say.)

However, the other day something happened, and I thought to myself- "I think that's irony!" I was picking Nick up from school after his two hour work detail/detention/10th hour shift or whatever you want to call it. Too many 9th hours for infractions such as coming late or unprepared to class, not finishing/having your homework, etc, and you get work detail. He has spent several hours these past couple of months helping the janitors and scrubbing desks, etc.

So, as I am picking him up, I notice the bottle of Sprite in his hand. Although when I was in junior high I could have had a Pepsi and a candybar every single day for lunch (and nothing else) and nobody would have cared. Nowadays, it is very difficult to find a pop or candy machine anywhere on campus. Well, you can get a bottle of water if you want, but that's about it.

"Where did you get the Sprite?" I asked.

"The janitors. I guess I am usually such a hard worker, and they were talking about it that they made a deal with each other that I didn't even know about that if I worked really hard again today they'd buy me a Sprite."

"So let me get this straight- you have to do work detail on a regular basis because you have too many 9th hours in any given month, because you have a hard time getting your act together for class, but you are such a hard worker at work detail, your punishment, that the janitors feel the need to reward you?"

"Yep."

that sounds a little ironic right?

Flashbacks

A decade ago when I was a new mom, and my husband was gone all the time with work and school, I spent my days with a little boy. Just me and Nick all day long. We had a good time. He was a good kid and full of fun. We were buddies.

Some days we would go for a walk down to the gas station on the corner. We lived on the North side of the street, three houses from the end. To get to the gas station we'd walk to the corner, cross the street, and turn left to go South just a bit to the gas station. I'd let him pick out a candy bar or something. He liked Rolos. And Sixlets although they he wouldn't actually eat them. I think he just liked the bright colors. We'd hold hands as we would walk because the street was a little too busy and because I liked the feel of his little hand in mine. I would try to memorize how it felt, because I knew that each day it would get a little bit bigger, and some day he wouldn't need to hold my hand anymore to cross the street. Those were special days.

As each consecutive kid would come along, it would seem I would have less and less time to spend with each kid. I have no such memories with Madison and Zachary. Zach was born when Madison was only 2 1/2 and the 6 months prior to that were filled with nausea from the pregnancy and anxiety and worry for my baby, you know, with all those doctors telling me I should just abort him and start over and all. Then there was the new baby and Madison's toddler hood was lost in the oblivion that was my sleepless mind. I don't remember her being two or three at all. I have pictures to prove that she was, but I don't remember much.

When Zach hit two he stopped talking and withdrew from society. He'd rather play with his trains all by himself than go for a walk with me. He never held hands. Except maybe by force, but that was usually accompanied by screaming. From both of us. He wanted to run in parking lots, I didn't want him to get hit by cars. Then when he turned three I stuck him on the short bus and sent him off to pre-school. Four hours a day, five days a week. It was probably one of the best things I've done for him, but that did mean less time that I got to spend with him.

With Christopher, I have a buddy again.

The other day the two of us were walking to the elementary school to take something to Zach. As we walked hand in hand, the similarities between that moment and the many many walks with his oldest brother nearly knocked me over. There I was, a decade later, spending the better part of my day with a sweet little boy. My husband is once again rarely home, we live three houses from the end of the street on the north side and to get to the school we walk to the corner, cross the street, turn left to go south, then walk a bit to get to the school. Hand in hand because I am just a little uncomfortable about how busy the street is.

Sound familiar at all?

All I know is that I had better memorize how that little hand feels in mine because it gets bigger every day, and there are no more little hands coming up to take it's place. We'll have to go for lots of walks this winter.

Change of plans

Today I had scheduled an appointment to give blood. I wasn't exactly excited about it, (who is?) but when they call it's not exactly like I can say "No! I don't want to save somebody's life!" I made arrangements to have Zach go play at one of his friend's house in my babysitting co-op. That was Plan A.

Then I woke up with a bit of a head cold. Apparently they only like the blood perfectly healthy individuals. They aren't big on compromising the immune systems of people who have been in terrible accidents.

Plan B was to still drop Christopher off and then come home and mop. And maybe clean out a closet or two. Get some of those projects done that are really difficult to do with a three year old helper.

After dropping Christopher off, I walked into my house, through the laundry room only to notice the laundry detergent all over the top and front of my washing machine. Believe it or not, unknowingly placing a brand new bottle of Tide with Bleach from Costco on a tube of chapstick lying on the shelf above the washer and dryer will cause the bottle to rupture.

And leak everywhere.

It's also very unfortunate that I have a bad habit of throwing junk on the washer as I walk into the house. Like my new Webelos book. (cause I'm a leader so I need one of those)

Plan B was tossed aside for Plan C which was to spend the next two hours cleaning up laundry soap. (I'm so glad I had already dropped Christopher off)

The good news is my washer is a lot cleaner. And the shelf above the washer and dryer. 5+ years of dust and grime and lint really add up. (It was pretty gross- to say my laundry room is the armpit of my house is an understatement)

The bad news is I still can't get some of the blue stuff out of the face plates on the front of my washer. The lady on the customer service line recommends I call someone to come and clean it out. Moisture inside could short out the motherboard thereby costing me hundreds to fix it. I haven't called (yet). It still seems to work just fine. And every hour or so a little more leaks out and I wipe it off.

Weird weather

It was cold here for about three whole days. (and by cold I mean the highs were only in the 60's- so you know, f-f-f-f-reezing!).

I had a blog post in my head that didn't make it to the computer. It went something like this-

Yay for cooler weather!

Yay for stripey socks!

Yay for Orange Creme hot cocoa!

Yay for my mom keeping me stocked in my favorite hot cocoa!

Yay for fuzzy blankets and books to curl up with!

Yay for Autumn!

But, the good weather was short lived (although I was glad that Halloween night was warm) and I think it was in the 90's today. Tomorrow is supposed to hit 90 as well.

I'm kinda worried those three days were supposed to be winter and now we are heading straight into spring. Needless to say, the socks are back in the drawer, the cocoa is stashed away, and the A/C is still running. (Bigh sigh)

Halloween

We had a good Halloween this year. It was pretty cold for our ward's trunk-or-treat (I swear it was probably in the 50's!) but it warmed back up for the kids to go trick or treating. A good thing too, because all those costumes tend to lose some of their charm when they are covered up with a parka.

On Halloween night we had our annual neighborhood chili and cornbread party at the park before hand. I brought root beer as usual, and it totally rocked this year. (If I do say so myself) I had the fortune of having John run into a good friend of mine as they were both buying dry ice, and she had some great ideas for the root beer. Like adding a vanilla bean when you make the syrup, and instead of all white sugar, do half and half white sugar and dark brown sugar. I'd never seen that stuff disappear so fast. We usually have leftovers.

The two older kids ran off with their friends to go trick or treating and I walked around with the little ones. I pulled Christopher in the wagon and he chowed on candy the whole time. I've been enjoying watching him get into the Halloween spirit a little bit this year. He'll point out every "punky" (pumpkin) he sees and tells me things are "scary" but was never really afraid of anything. He was Mario (as in Super Mario Brothers). He likes to "play" with his big brothers when they are playing Mario Kart on the Wii. They give him a controller and he's happy as a clam to be included.

Zach found a pilot costume he liked- but as usual he wouldn't wear the mask. The only time he wore it was to pose for pictures. I don't know why he keeps picking costumes with masks.
Nick was Dwight Shrute from the TV show The Office. Apparently people thought he was Harry Potter instead. He was trying not to smile, cause you know, Dwight never smiles. "Showing your teeth is a sign of weakness."
Madison really wanted to be a devil. We found a website with the costume she liked for a pretty good price, but then I procrastinated and they were sold out. The only devil costumes that were left weren't appropriate for a nine year old. Her second choice was a Whoopie cushion. Thanks to Madison, she saw to it that one of us got to dress up as a devil. I won't show you the tail though. I have a policy against that sort of thing.

Halloween rants

I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween. I love the parties, the atmosphere, the cooler weather, trick or treating with my kids, making treats to give to neighbors, serving homemade root beer to the kids whose parents let them take a home made treat from a stranger (we also have store bought candy), stealing my kid's candy while they are at school, other people's costumes...

That's right, other people's costumes. I love seeing what people come up with. I'm always impressed. But I hate, hate, hate, coming up with costumes for my family. Basically for costumes there are several categories- the over priced store bought things that make you question weather or not it will survive one evening of running around the neighborhood. The REALLY overpriced ones that are GORGEOUS, which might be okay if you only had one kid, but when you are trying to outfit 4, you'd have to take out a home equity loan to afford. There's the homemade ones, which take both skill, patience, and creativity, none of which I have. Then there's the costume that can be done running around to thrift stores and/or craft stores, but takes up an inordinate amount of time, and a whole lot of skill and/or creativity is involved.

I went to a Halloween party a week or so ago. It was fun. Dressing up was optional, so I did what I have done for the past three years, I threw on my awesome greenish black witch hat purchased for $10 at Wal-Mart on a whim three years ago. I also added my "Of course I'm in a bad mood, someone dropped a house on my sister" t-shirt. You know, the one I wear every single week, the day after laundry day. And the witch hat necklace John bought me the first time I saw Wicked. Anyways, people commented on the mileage that hat was getting. This year Madison is taking my costume into her own hands. She has made me devil horns, tail and pitch fork out of red construction paper, paper towel tubes, and lots of tape.

I've always agonized over the costume thing. Once my mom made me a cute bunny costume. That was a favorite. And who can forget The Virus costume?

But then I got a little older and the responsibility to come up with a costume fell on my shoulders, and let's just say that it went downhill from there.

In the 5th grade I just raided my grandma's closet. I think I was going for "Rock Star" but I told people I was a gypsy.

6th grade wasn't much better. I found a multi-colored metallic wig and went as a punk rocker. Or something to that effect.

Do you ever look at a picture of yourself and get a little sick feeling in your gut? Like you remember thinking you were hot stuff at the time, (hence the fish nets) but now, not so much. I broke down and purchased three costumes for my three youngest. I procrastinated and this one website was having a sale, so they had to pick from what was available, and only Christopher got his first choice, but I still got them taken care of for less than $75. Which still feels ridiculous to me.

For Nick I ended up taking the Thrift store route. I had one of those rare moments of genius, the problem is just making it work. I picked up an outfit for him, but at Saver's it's not like beggars can be choosers, so I am hoping the Men's medium shirt I bought won't look ridiculous on him. Including gas, I still think I ended up paying as much as I did on each of the other kids.

Long story short, $100 dollars later, my kids are ready for Halloween. And apparently, thanks to Madison, I am too. And it only cost the price of a whole roll of tape. (You'll have to tune in later for the big reveal. Knowing me, I'll get around to it mid-January)

*My other big gripe about this time of year is the uncharacteristically bad allergies. Ugh. I spend most of my day wishing I could claw my eyes out. The weather is (Finally!!) gorgeous, and I can't enjoy it. It was in the 60's today. The 60's!!! That's practically jacket weather. It's definitely a take-Christopher-to-the-park day and hope some other mothers are doing the same. Instead I am hiding out in my house. Because my only alternative is Benadryl and that stuff kicks my tail like nothing else. If I pop one of those little pink pills I should just plan on nixing any plans for the rest of the day and hope Christopher stays safe while I am unconscious.

Be careful what you wish for

Zach got In Trouble at school Again today.

For Talking.

For Talking! Admittedly though I'm fairly okay with it. Don't get me wrong, he should be following the rules, and I am sorry for his teacher who has to continually ask him to please turn around, and not talk to his neighbors as they walk down the halls, and I will sternly talk to him about it, but inside I'm Laughing.

Once upon a time I had a little blue eyed boy who never said a word. Didn't say "mama" or "da-da" or anything. We taught him sign language to help him communicate. Other parents would try and comfort me with their own success stories, "my kid didn't talk, and now we can't get him to stop!"

Oh, how I wished!

My wish came true. I admit there are days when I think he's going to actually talk my ear off, and I truly think he must be making up for lost time, but I think we'll be okay if he can just figure out appropriate vs. inappropriate times for talking to our friends.

My apologies

First and foremost, I'd like to apologize to my kids. I'm sorry you had to see me lose my temper like that the other day. I'm sorry for all the bad words I said. I'm sorry for the yelling and the screaming and the crying. But especially the swearing. That's just not called for.

I'm sorry to worry you John, when you called home from several states away and talked to Madison and you had to hear her sweet little voice say "Well, I had a really good morning, but it was really hard to watch mommy cry." I know it's hard for you to be away and I try to keep it together so you don't have one more thing to worry about.

I'm sorry to the Relief Society in my ward. I know I signed up to bring an appetizer, and I truly did my best. Three separate trips to the grocery store, one in sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes, should be proof that I tried. But when it comes down to it, it's really difficult to cook when you can't see anything with all the moisture leaking out, and I was a little afraid of chopping off my fingers because the herbs were such a big green blur. Also it was very time consuming to stop and wipe my face and blow my nose then wash my hands every 3 minutes. I really regret not making it to the meeting, with or without the appetizers I promised, if I had known that would be one of my last opportunities to spend time with some dear friends before they caught every one of us off guard and split our ward, I would have been there, but I probably would be wearing those sunglasses. I know they say when you're feeling down and worthless like that, the best place to be is around people who can lift you up, but some days that's the hardest place to go. I hope you all got enough to eat.

I'm sorry I didn't make it to your baby shower, Jenn. I was gonna duck out of the Relief Society meeting early (it was at the exact same time) to come. But well you know, splotchy face, on the verge of tears all night, didn't want to make a spectacle of myself in a room full of strangers. That and I don't think I could have put on a happy face and be happy for another new mother when I was feeling like a total failure as a mother myself. I hope you had a lovely evening. I really was looking forward to it and seeing you again.

I'd like to apologize to the 6 teachers, the school counselor, and the vice-principal who had to take time out of their busy day to discuss my son and his grades. On a bright note, he's doing well in PE, but the rest of his classes are suffering considerably. I'm sorry if my defenses went up a little bit, but I was feeling pretty overwhelmed and even felt like my own parenting skills were being attacked. I KNOW I'm not the best mom, or even a really great mom, but I try, and I try, and when that doesn't work I try something new, and I re-group, and re-evaluate and problem solve, and when people who don't really know the home situation are suggesting things like that my son should try doing his homework "in a central location", (because what kid with ADD won't do better with 14,000 things going on around him all at once?), and when I have to listen to the counselor's psycho-babble, "What I am hearing from you is that you are feeling frustrated, and are choosing to allow your child to experience the natural consequences of his choices instead of coming to my office to discuss another plan that might help him be successful?" well that sounds a little like she is accusing me of choosing failure for my son instead of success. The irony here is every time I step in and try to help, someone else tells me I should back off, because how is he ever going to learn to be responsible with mommy waiting there with a safety net?

So yeah, my parenting-homework style right now is to simply Ask and Remind. "Do you have any homework? Are you sure you did it all? Did you check your pride book? Did you put it safely away? Are you sure? Why don't you go double check? Don't forget your viola! Don't forget your medicine!" And so, I'd like to apologize to my son if this is the wrong approach. I'm sorry that most days I don't know what I'm doing. Because I don't. It's all guesswork, but apparently you are stuck with me, and I'm sorry for that too.

I'm also sorry to my older kids if I put too much responsibility on your shoulders to help out with the little ones. Some days can be difficult as a nearly single parent, and I know I rely on you alot. I realize your job first and foremost is to be a student, and if babysitting the little kids hinders your ability to do well in school (like homework) I will give up the more frivolous things like book club, but I might still need to ask for your help for nights when I have scouts and stuff. (Sorry)

Oh, and lastly, I'd like to apologize to my faithful readers (all half-dozen of you) I know my posts are few and far between, and then I go and write about something awkward like my emotional breakdown last week. Sorry about that. I'll try to do better.

my little autophile

First there was his obsession with Disney's Cars.

Next came Nascar.

Now posters of cars have appeared in his room, his talking about moving to Germany so he can drive fast cars, and the only books he checks out at the library involve cars. Mostly, anyway. There is the random book about jets. Or helicopters.

But when I realized his obsession with cars wasn't just a passing phase was when he was stopped in his tracks by a Porsche. It was just one of those SUV Porsches, but he saw the little design on the hood, stopped to stare, and I heard the barely audible whisper of "Porsche" escape is lips. He was awestruck.

The fact that he noticed and recognized the symbol on the front of the car is what tipped me off that this isn't "just a phase". My other kids wouldn't notice a Porsche if it ran them over.

So today when a yellow Mustang GT was spotted parked in front of our house, (our street becomes the overflow when the elementary's parking lot is full) Zach had me take a picture of him next to it.

His grandpa and uncles (my brothers) would be proud. My dad spent close to two decades restoring a 1969 Camaro. My mom dubbed it "Christine" after the Stephen King book/movie. She meant it as an insult. The name stuck because my dad thought it was funny and he hoped to irritate my mom.

Peace

Apparently my kids were playing with my camera.

That's okay though, it could be worse.

Back in the days before digital when you had to use film and actually get it developed to see how the pictures "turned out" or if there were any "good ones", you had no idea if your little brother had been messing with your camera and using your own kid as a co-conspirator.