Savor the Moments

I love the post-Christmas week with children happily exploring new toys, no holiday stress or rush and the feeling that there is still some magic of Christmas lingering in the air. Alas, it is almost New Year's and I can no longer put off finding homes for the presents that have been conveniently stored under the tree since the big day.

There have been many memories created this week and lessons learned:

1) Sewing a strap to the donkey hat doesn't mean a thing if the child takes the hat off in the pew. She will make it to the altar only to be reminded of this and have to rush back retrieving said hat before she takes her rightful place in the stable.

2) Giving your husband the video game he has been drooling over doesn't mean much if the computer's mother board crashed on Christmas Eve. In this event have cool gifts for the children to keep him busy until the computer shop can get the part and fix it (fingers crossed that it happens soon)

3) Monitor Just Dance 2 song choices when Teen is choosing for Boy, it is just not nice to have an eleven-year-old dancing to "It's Raining Men"

4) Encourage childish joy, especially when it gives teens a chance to act like complete goofs.

5) Savor every moment...

I'm off to direct toy and decoration storage so I can be prepared for the teen invasion scheduled to occur on New Year's Eve...

Anticiaption and Great Joy

It is crunch time. The time when parents near and far are busily wrapping-up pun intended last minute items and preparations. Kids are positively humming with anticipation and cookie overload. Plus, if they aren't excited enough, you can always go to NORAD to track Santa who is busily delivering goodies to the the far East even as I type.

We will spend the day prepping for company and listening to Youngest count down the hours until her big debut as the donkey or Christmas Ass as her brother likes to remind us in the Christmas pageant at the family mass today. It will be hectic, busy, and best of all filled with family and friends. Church, with its simple adornments and well known readings, will offer the possibility to reflect on the real reason we celebrate this season with such gusto. A time of peace and hope. Followed promptly by a time of celebration.

Whether you celebrate this season in a church, the bosom of your family, or anywhere else I wish you great joy and many memories worth holding dear. Merry Christmas!

First Snow...fall?

Most towns offer snow gratis. It's the perk (or pest) of the location. In order for kids to enjoy the wonders it has to offer wet socks, frostbite they need to go no further than the yard. Not so in Sunnyville.

Snow is such a rare commodity that youngest has never witnessed the white stuff falling ever. While most people over the age of 20 see this as a positive, my kids are not 20 and bemoan their snowless fate yearly while mom does the happy dance and sends gentle jibes to far away family This year we chose to find snow...

First, mom had to coupon shop. Honestly. I did. Snow and cold are pricey here. After driving 2 hours, we arrived...

The parkas were a side perk of spending an hour in the 9 degree exhibit.

We toured the sculptors. "Night Before Christmas" was the theme.

No trip to the ice would be worth its salt without an ice slide.

Of course we couldn't forget to visit the courtyard.

Now this weather is more my speed.

Then we went to play in the "snow" (I use the term loosely)

A great time for all.

All-in-all it was worth the drive and now Youngest tells me she can't wait to see real snow. I guess she doesn't realize those wet knees and gloves are not so much fun when it is actually cold!

Fire! Where?

It's 3:30 in the morning. On our very quiet and very dark street, my home is lit up like the Superbowl is being played within it's tiny frame. And is that? Could it be? Yes it is. Another fire truck come to cast light on the scene.  The kids, dogs, and I huddle in the van watching the scene unfold as Boy takes the opportunity to remind me, yet again, that he would like a snack. 

And while a small part of me does have to admit that watching firemen line the entire block with their vehicles and pour into your home is a bit like watching a movie, most of me is focused on a churning stomach, the thought that the fire must have started in the very messy garage, and the fact that my kids are going to be homeless with all of our shoes burnt-up.

Losing it slightly at this point, I say, "You can't have a snack. They are burning up in our house!" Hmm, maybe not one of my brightest moves...

How did we end-up in this predicament?

It all started with an annoying sound you half-hear in your sleep and a nervous dog. Having a newborn at the time (Youngest was about 3 months old) I was half-delirious with sleep withdrawl. Upon waking I couldn't place the sound and the dog was acting very strange, whining and unsettled. I woke Hubby to ask what that noise was. 

We got out of bed to investigate and as we were crossing the house Teen (who was really more of a Kid) crawls at super-speed from her room hollering "It's the FIRE ALARM. It's the FIRE ALARM" on a constant loop. And, hey, she was right. Quick-thinking completely dazed and sleep addled me told her to meet me at the mailbox and thank you fire safety month, she crawled right out the front door. Hubby and I rushed into Boy's room to remove him and Youngest from the danger-zone. Still very much operating on instinct, imagine my surprise to find Youngest's crib empty! Uh, where did she go?  Surely she didn't just leave - she can't even roll over!

Light dawned through my confusion. I remembered I brought her into my bed, and rushed back there.  Grabbing the baby and the dogs I went out to meet the others at the mailbox. I piled everyone into the van, because they were all in their various states of sleep undress and standing in the middle of the yard. Hubby and I headed back in to grab the phone, well he did anyway. Truth be told I went back for a can of Diet Coke and my cigarettes...Hey it was stressful. 

We didn't see any fire. But the entire house was filled with this sweet-smelling smoke. Hubby explained this to 911, as I grabbed my drink. We assumed the fire must be smoldering in the attic. And I was fretting because I knew the firemen would have no access to said attic because the garage was such a mess! Ah, the dumb@#% things I worry about.

In record time the trucks arrived. I think it was every truck in Sunnyville. All lined up on my blcok. And while I do truly appreciate their prompt attention, it is Sunnyville. Did they really think a ladder truck would be necessary? The house is only one floor!

So here we were. Sitting in the driveway watching men and lights travel through the house. Hubby talking with the fire chief and Boy prattling on about his need for sustenance...Maybe my previously mentioned blurt about the snacks burning up could be forgiven.

After touring my home with heat-finding goggles, the firemen reached the conclusion that there was freon pouring into the house from a faulty whatchamacallit in the air conditioner. Because this can be toxic, they brought in HUGE fans and blew the smoke out before allowing us to regain occupancy. Upon reentering the house, I did get Boy his snack and we all decided to watch Pirates of the Caribbean since we were up anyway.

Juggling Act

Fate was peeking at my well-managed budget and planning this year, saw that I was far too calm, and thought to itself: "Ha, where is her challenge?"

In order to keep me on my toes, Fate gave me a car that stalled while I was driving down the street. Being extremely lucky the quick-thinking action hero I am, I threw it into neutral, started it and continued cruising with no one the wiser...except me. After a day spent rationalizing the stall incident, I relented after practicing my race car driver technique for the 3rd time and called my mechanic.

Having a car in the shop lead to a slew of thoughts not all of which involved anxiety attacks and crying in my beer Some I thought to share:

1) Sunnyville children are not meant to walk to school on the coldest morning of the year - their moms aren't either. Running into a friend at drop-off helps to get home more quickly and allows Boy's bike to be there for his return home, not that I would have stolen it...

2) When borrowing one of my sister's cars I was presented with a gas dilemma. What in the heck does "range=LOW" mean?? How can a car go from "range=36 miles" to "LOW" in 1/10 of a mile anyway??

3) Also in borrowed car, what in the heck are all these buttons and doohickeys for? It is a car, can't it just go? and with all these buttons and doohickeys WHY can't it tell me how far until I run out of gas??

4) Christmas shopping while talking to the mechanic about prices definitely brings out the bargain hunter in me. (Do they sell American Girl accessories at Goodwill?)

5) Hmm, is it too early to spike the eggnog?

6) God must have wanted me to be a clown, because He sure does expect me to juggle.

Now I'm off the the repair shop. In the event of mental collapse due to price shock, your comments will be a welcome pick-me-up.

Short, Sweet Saturday

In an effort to continue my attempt at regular posting and a lack of any usable material I am going with random parenting truisms today.

~ You will not notice how filthy your child became while playing in the yard until you are standing in grocery store and a very kindly elderly couple begins talking with her.

~ When allowing a teen to attend a midnight premier, plan for an afternoon of sleeping teen because you are a big meany and made her stick to the original deal and attend school on time.

~ Learn to laugh off parents who shake a finger at you when you allow your child to attend midnight premiers with her father, knowing you know what is right for your child.

~ Just because your child was super excited to be a B away from straight A's does not in any way guarantee that you get to resign from the post of homework police the next quarter.

~ No matter how sure you are that you have the most original idea for a Christmas gift for your parents, your sister will surely tell you that she has the perfect gift idea and it will be almost identical to yours.

~ Procrastinate housework as long as possible on a Saturday. 

Blogging is helpful with this ;)

Come with me if you want to live...

I am going to preface this post with an announcement. I am no Sarah Connor. though I wouldn't mind having her muscles, the gaunt  look does nothing for me I live in suburbia, and honestly I am pretty average. You probably wouldn't find me remarkable on sight and I am very moderate in most beliefs. I am not preparing my children for the day machines take over the world, and though we have taken the oldest two shooting at clay pigeons a time or two, we are not arming our own personal militia here in Sunnyville.

But there are those lessons, aren't there? that every person especially film writers should know. So it was that we were cruising around suburbia yesterday and four police cars raced past in the other direction. Talk flowed to wondering what was up and talking about recent accidents and pull-overs it is snow bird season here Amidst the conversation I told the kids i was going to share a life-lesson. My plan was to tell them (ok Teen - but the other two were in the car) that if lost while driving it is right and good to go ahead and pass your turn and then turn around at a reasonable time rather than stopping dead in the middle of a 6 lane highway. yes people do that here

Except that just after I began with "Ok guys, I have a life-lesson for you..."

Boy jumped in and said, "In a terrorist attack, or a killer flu outbreak, or if zombies invade we should stay away from the cities and go to the country."

heehee Laughter exploded from Teen and she looked to me and said, "Seriously, you told them what to do in a zombie apocalypse?!" Well, yeah, it may have come-up in the conversation a time or two.

Just because screen writers are foolish enough to send their characters to the city in the event of a cataclysmic event, doesn't mean I am. :)

That Music Will Put Your Eye Out

Recently Hubby and I (alone, no minor chaperons attached) flew into our favorite city for a concert wedding. It was purely coincidental that Riot Fest was happening the same weekend and that Hubby won all access passes to every show of the event hours on facebook finally pay off Though we would have liked to see every show, there are obligations with a wedding: drinking, bachelor party, more drinking. But there was one show in particular we were not going to miss, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Less than Jake, and a few other ska-type bands. 

In what may have been a preemptive attack on rapid aging I donned my doc martins, jeans and a T then headed to the show with an old friend and our guys. We watched the show from a safe distance for awhile. (There is much dancing about with elbows and knees flying in various directions at a punk rock show.) The ladies, uh yeah, in this scenario that would be me, had decided we WOULD be heading to the main floor for the Bosstones, and I took advantage of a loll in the show to get some fresh air bonus of all access passes, can enter and leave at will

So it was that I was milling about on Irving Park Rd. and 3 security guys/cops burst through the door with a concert-goer, we'll call him Guy, in tow. Guy was promptly deposited on the street near a wall while staff talked among themselves. Such behavior is sure to draw an interest. Yes, I was gawking, along with a few other groups milling about. In a crouched fetal position, Guy was holding his crumpled shirt tightly to his face. 

A nearby group assumed he had been the receiver of a badly placed elbow and had a bloody nose. One wondered aloud why the guy was hyperventilating, and why there was an ambulance coming. His tone implying Guy needed to "man-up."  On closer attention it happened that yes, a badly placed elbow was to blame. But no mere nosebleed here. Guy's eye had literally been popped from its socket. At which point I said aloud to no one, "If my eye pops out, feel free to call an ambulance." To which I was assured by the nearby group that they would indeed do that service for me. 

Maybe my mother was right all my teens and 20's and there are things that will put your eye out.

Yes, I still went to the main floor, though Hubby (bless his heart) was worried for my safety trying very hard not to read into this that he thinks I'm too feeble to dodge a few elbows

Rapid Aging

I don't know about the rest of the world, but here in Sunnyville we seem to be subjects of a Jimmy Neutron experiment gone awry. For those with small children, he is a boy genius cartoon Darn him! I was bobbing happily along this parenthood ride when suddenly a switch was thrown, and I find myself in fast-forward.

It started with Youngest being invited to attend a family camping trip - with another family! Her anxiety was only outmeasured by her excitement. Ok, I admit I was a little happy to know I would have one less contestant in the bickering contest that often exisits between the three. But, she's only 6, a mere baby. So, bam. Just like that I am a parent to 3 kids who can sleep-over with friends.

The same weekend Boy, who had been on the fence, decided and attended his first school dance. At drop-off he was quiet timid as a mouse. It was sweet, dropping him off to hang with school friends for an evening of chaperoned fun. It was not until pick-up that the rapid aging was felt once again. Arriving at the dance to sign him out it's a safety conscious world I spot him. And more importantly he spots me - and ducks back into the crowd! I watched with other waiting parents as he hopped and bobbed his way through the last song of the night and sent Youngest in to wrangle him. He chatted a bit on the way home, and seemed to have enjoyed himself. I was pleased for him. Until bedtime. Upon sending him to bed, I reach for my nightly hug and kiss and am offered a fist instead. Not for a punch. But for a knuckle bump. Are you kidding me? One dance and suddenly he is too old for hugs! Not. Ready. For. This. ok, I admit I hugged him anyway

Then the same weekend Teen decides yes, she will be attending the homecoming dance with friends. We rush through trying on 10 dresses, find all necessary accessories, and she begins to prep and primp with friends. I am very pleased for her. Until I see her ready to go and it hits me again. rapid aging sucks She is not so little anymore. An honest-to-goodness young lady.

So, to Jimmy Neutron, or the universe, I say slow the heck down!

No Mom Allowed

A few months before I turned 16, I moved to FL. Before the departure, my dad asked me where I would like to go for a special dinner, a 16th birthday tradition he celebrated with each of his daughters. I considered various locations and settled on The Pump Room (Chicago). Looking back I probably chose it largely because it sounded so snobby and I had seen it many times while bumming around Michigan Ave. 

So it was that an evening in January found the two of us having dinner. I, being my most grown-up self, ordered cream of asparagus soup. Imagine my surprise when the soups were brought and I had placed before me a bowl containing nothing but some bright green asparagus tips. Shock must have been evident and my dad asked what was wrong. I leaned toward him and in a conspiratorial whisper I said "Dad, there's no soup?" He looked into my bowl, and hiding a grin he asked me if that was not what I ordered. Just as I was about to answer he said, "Ah, I believe this is what you were waiting for!" As the waiter poured the cream soup into my bowl. The rest of the meal went smoothly and was followed by a carriage ride down Michigan Ave. An evening fit for a sweet sixteen. 

Tonight Teen will embark on her own "Dad and Me" sweet 16 dinner. She chose a fondue restaurant and her dad dutifully made the reservation. He has informed her that dress attire is expected and she seems excited. I will be sad to miss out on her 16th birthday dinner, but I am thrilled for the memories she and her dad are building. Hopefully there is cheese in their fondue pot!
Happy Birthday Teen!!

Career Planning

It starts young these days. Children being asked what they aspire to be and how they will achieve these goals. As parents we run hither and yon (yea for vocab!) giving our children opportunities to experience the world through sports, music, arts, and culture. We strive to broaden their worlds and their knowledge.So, I shouldn't have been surprised by the following exchange with Youngest...

me: "I do not want to hear can't from you anymore. You can if you just try." (insert lecture here)

Youngest: "Oh - so you mean I just need to keep practicing?"

me: "Yes! (sees sun shining through clouds) You can do things if you work for them."

A brief pause in the conversation while she absorbs this information...

Youngest: "Well then, if I keep practicing my rollerskating I'll get better and better. 'Cuz I am getting a little bit better each time."

me: "That is exactly right and it's the same with anything that is hard at first."

Youngest : "So Mom, I can get really good and one day I can get a job at the ROLLER RINK! Or maybe that place with the food and the girls on skates - Sonic!! I could be good enough to work there!"

me: "Uh - yeah...I guess you could."

Youngest, Teen, Boy and Cousins skating over the summer.

Umm...Where Did It Go?

The stores are filled with paper and crayons. Kids eyes widen at the sight of new backpacks and lunchboxes. Parents rush children to barbers and beauty salons to tame unruly locks...summer is ending.

I love summer. It is my dose of stay-at-home-mommyness. We go on outings, play in the pool and relax. It is the time of year that guests are most likely to find a clean house and stocked fridge. Lists are made of projects to complete and ways to improve for next year. I read many books and relax on the porch. A wonderful time indeed. Alas, as happens every year, it has ended.

But the end of the best season of all does not have to be all negative...

Ok, I'm sure it isn't but give me a minute since my brain is on overload from all the meetings and work I've been doing to prep my room and update my curriculum....

Well, maybe we can come back to that at a later blog. Which I cross my heart will not take a month or more to post!

Happy school everyone!

If the Name Fits

My husband came home from the gym last week and said we were going to have a house guest coming the next day for a week. There was no need to kill him as this guest did not require the beds to be stripped and remade or even a spotless house. We would be dog sitting for a friend of his. A little wiener dog, appropriately named, Oscar.

The kids were thrilled, I was underwhelmed. (but supportive - good karma and all that) Tuesday am the little guy made his appearance. Complete with little cage and unexplainable large food and water bowls. He happily integrated himself into the house and yard, barely casting a backwards glance to his owners. He hasn't cried or whined once. He has had exactly one accident. All-in-all he is nearly the perfect guest. 

EXCEPT he is driving our Daisy insane. She can not be on the ground for more than 5 minutes without the dirty old man bothering her. She has taken many different approaches to the issue. She has tried moving away, growling, nipping, and whining at my feet. Nothing phases him. He is determined to be near her. The fact that his parts don't work and she is disgusted doesn't phase him a bit. Daisy now gets to sit on the couch for the week as wiener-dog tries diligently to live up to his name.

Falling Off the Roof

One pleasant morning everyone was busy playing and relaxing. Boy and Hubby had gone outside to test fly Boy's new light weight remote control helicopter. They hadn't been gone long when Boy came in to tell me, "Dad got it stuck on the roof."

Being the nosy helpful creature I am, I went out to investigate. (Still sporting my slippers and PJ's) Hubby was warily eying the ladder and the roof when I arrived on the scene. Quickly sizing up the situation, I announced I would make the trek up the ladder. Hubby promptly held it stable as I climbed up to and then on the roof. I shimmied to the run away copter and returned to the roof edge with the prize. Hubby said he had the ladder and that I should watch my step getting onto the ladder. After making some flippant comment, as I've been known to do once or twice, I slid my slippered feet to the ladder. I am not sure, even now, exactly how it happened I blame the slippers. I know I had felt the ladder rungs and then I didn't. Just as my brain registered it was about to be bashed into the walkway leading to the front door, I was landing in Hubby's arms.

He looked down at me cradled there and said, "Hello, love." While trying to swallow back my heart which had lately realized the danger and was threatening to escape through my mouth, I hugged him close, speechless. (Boy of course thought this was hilarious and cool all at the same time and was laughing and babbling excitedly.) 

Though this happened over 2 years ago, it occurs to me today, on our wedding anniversary. There has never been a soul who I have felt is more firmly in my corner than my husband. And just as he illustrated so well that Christmas morn, we make a great team. So, to Hubby I say thank you, I love you and it's a good thing you caught me, or I wouldn't have a story for today!

Dad's Stories

I could have been listening to a recording. The morals and analogies echoing in my ears were as familiar as a comfortable pair of slippers. The tone was calm and meaningful and at some points the inflection was so accurate I was tempted to sneak a peek into the backseat. But, it would do no good. 

It was not my father lecturing my teenage self. It was me! Lecturing Teen!

Her trespass, though not worthy of writing about, was enough to make me angry as all hell. And it was in this state of heightened emotional distress that I seemed able to channel my father's spirit directly through my words. Amazing really, how quickly we can become our parents. Teen sat stoically answering when one was required, enduring the uncomfortable silences when I was counting to 10 in my head so I wouldn't kill her I paused the conversation for reflection. No sign of listening was readable on her face or in her actions.

But, I know she was absorbing every word. Just as I had when my father gave them to me. So, to my storytelling father who always has a point, and all fathers everywhere I wish you a Happy Father's Day! Your work is not in vain, as children we hear your messages and they become part of who we are.

Now, it's FatherHood Friday. So, go ahead, click the link to head over to DadBlogs and take a break to read some wonderful blogs by some wonderful people!

Wordless Wednesday

First there was the excitement of this.

 

Look closely - the flower girls are peeping out of the door waiting for their turns.

Then there was a whole lotta this.

It's no wonder she ended up like this on Dad's lap.

An Oily Grief

For those of us that have live in society it is a given: no matter the steps you take, you can be reaping what your neighbor sows. If that neighbor finds it to be financially practical to run a shooting range in his yard, no matter the steps taken for safety you may be playing in the yard with your family and end-up shot. The same can (and is) being said for oil drilling.

Please do not get me wrong, I am not going to moan about oil drilling. As with the neighbor running a shooting-parlor in his yard, it is a financial decision made by that neighbor. The neighbor never intended to harm himself or others, and I know this is the case with the oil steadily heading my way. What interests me is the attitude of grief that has fallen over most everyone I run into. Grief in its various stages and accompanied by various coping mechanisms is evident everywhere the talk turns to our Gulf.

There are the speechless head-shakers. These folks have no words for the sorrows they face and the tragedy that grows daily. They merely give a slow shake, and try valiantly to change the topic.

The deniers. These poor people cling desperately to the hope that this tragedy won't reach them and to the relatively-low numbers of reported deaths. Completely ignoring the fact that the majority of causalities are well below the surface and wouldn't ever wash to shore.

The angry warriors. These folks are pissed. At everyone. They rant about oversight and oil companies. Sarcastic and biting comments are made about the situation at large and a certain oil company in particular.

The we can fix-it people. "If we just head-out and do "xyz" we can save the ecosystem." "There needs to be a better plan," they reason. Or, worse yet, they pin their hopes on the fact that it will not spread and while the destruction is devastating it can be contained.

Nowhere is there a person without some level of grief or fear that the oil will wash its way upon our beaches. If not by natural tides, then surely by the next hurricane. I, personally am a "hope for the best prepare for the worst" kind of person.  There is always hope. So, I will be heading to the beach with my kids today - as soon as I check my hurricane insurance to see if it covers oil-laden flood water.

Grass is Greener

Way back when Hubby and I ran neighborhoods with the abandon and surety that comes with youth and knowing you are invincible we had a running joke about grass as in lawns, jeez Remember life was a bit simpler then. We actually went outside to skateboard. 

The ramp being conveniently located a few miles from my house meant that we all spent a lot of time walking through neighborhoods.  Since we weren't informed enough to talk politics at the ripe old age of 15 and we spent many, many hours cruising the town we would talk about anything. Front lawns were right there. They are diverse some with nice thick grass, while others are weed infested and sport bald patches. There was a house somewhere with green, lush grass that called to me. I proclaimed that the grass looked soft and my feet were tired. We had a seat near a curb and the grass was in fact luxuriously soft and thick. I'm sure I hammed it up a bit then we moved on. But, the tradition had begun. When boredom hit, or a walk brought us through new neighborhoods, we would rate the lawns with me running ahead to touch the grass for the feel-it test.

Fast forward too many years to count and we live in Sunnyville. The grass here is what Northerners would attack with hands or weed killer. It is infested with bugs of every size and shape. Not where you want to lie back and look up at the sky. But our children seem to have the need for "soft grass" embedded in their genes. 

So, every time we hit the north-of-fire-ants line they feel a need to just lie in the grass. This was exactly what happened while we were visiting the Statue of Liberty. The grass there wasn't even up to my teen standards, but we made do.

Wordless Wednesday

I guess they do clean-up pretty well.

Italian Feast

An Italian family can overwhelm on the best of days. Put said family at a celebration and you better be prepared for overwhelming noise, public displays of affection, and unbridled joy.

At the end of our long road trip, we found ourselves smack in the middle of just such chaos. It was the evening of the "rehearsal dinner." As this was an occasion to be celebrated, a smallish Italian restaurant was chosen and fully half was being used to house the intimate dinner for seventy. Coming from quiet Sunnyville, it always takes the kids a bit of time to acclimate. Boy sat quietly next to his dad taking in the conversations & giving hugs to family - groom and bride included. Youngest began the evening in a relatively subdued manner as well. Sitting and waiting to see what would happen next. As could be expected from children who sport more Italian and Irish in their blood than anything else, it didn't take too long for them to acclimate.

Total acclimation was achieved when Boy watched his Uncle eat a pepper. After taking a bite, Uncle had been offering the pleasurable sensation of burning tongue to anyone who might want to have a go. No takers. Until Boy announced, "I'll eat it for $20." Come now, is it in the male gene somewhere that eating unpleasant things should come with bets? 

Uncle took the bet, threw a pepper on the table and before anyone could so much as utter "WAIT!" Boy had popped the fire-veggie into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. This act was swiftly followed by the downing of 2 water glasses, 1 Coke, and 1 glass of milk ordered especially for him. Copious amounts of bread were taken in at the time as well. When I returned to the table from a bit of mingling you didn't honestly think I would have allowed this to occur if I had been there did you? Boy was looking a bit green. Hubby filled me in, as he ushered Boy out for some fresh air hoping against hope that the vomiting would wait until they were out of doors

Though Boy was unable to eat dinner that night, he had $20 in his pocket and what's more, he was quickly becoming news around the feast. Family friends on seeing the pallor of Boy and in the spirit of good-humored ribbing, proclaimed $20 to be far too little for his achievement. As Boy told his story, received his hugs, and reveled in the laughter, this "too little" recurring theme seemed clear. Boy, who understands a good thing when he hears it, agreed whole-heartedly. Sure enough, as he was telling his tale around the room, his $20 bill, was taken in exchange for a $50. Did I mention my kids acclimate fast?

The Road Trip

Let me begin by saying all rest areas are not created equally. Some states offer the luxury rest stop: ample, shaded, picnicking grounds for the weary traveler. Bathrooms that never cause you to wonder who sat here before. Maps and welcome centers that give the cramped wanderer an excuse to stretch sore legs.

However, none of that will matter if the words, "Mom, I have to go potty," aren't spoken until you are 100 ft from the rest area traveling at 80mph in the far left lane. Yup, on those occasions you will often be forced to hit the gas station. Not an ideal choice. So, if you find yourself hitting the road this summer with a vehicle full of kids and a destination in mind I offer some tips:

1. Pay attention to rest area markers - some states offer a rest area every 30-40 miles. These states are the all-time best. When a rest area is missed you have an idea of how much longer you will need to sing along with VeggieTales to keep full bladders distracted until you can stop.

~ In the event you are traveling through a rest area-deprived state, go to the biggest truck stop you see. There are gadgets and gizmo's in there you had probably never imagined. And the bathrooms here tend to be clean.

2. Since duct taping small bickering mouths shut is frowned upon in virtually every state through which you are bound to travel, having MP3 players and portable DVD's is incredibly helpful. If you are blessed enough that your player doesn't blow a fuse and works for you - the most argument you will hear is what movie to play next and whose turn it is to pick it.

~ But if it does blow a fuse, the truck stop is bound to have replacements.

3. If you will be traveling to the Northeast bring lots of money for tolls. Culture shock is a definite possibility for those that live in a relatively free-travel area. Take a deep breath and be sure to enjoy the bridges - because they will cost you an amount equivalent to viewing a blockbuster movie on opening night. At some points, you may wonder when they will be asking for your first born. We were spared this experience, but we didn't travel too far into the area. It seems a definite possibility.

4. Eventually you are bound to reach your destination. If traveling with small children I strongly suggest some down-time when you arrive. They are bound to be babbling, wiggling maniacs for a bit - not the first impression you want to impose on friends or relatives you don't see regularly. 

~ A quick visit to a park or any area they can run and play will give them a chance to burn-off energy and make them acceptable company. They will be less likely to hang from the chandeliers or start a wrestling competition in the home of those nearest and dearest.

Happy Travels!

hiatus

Living through the end of a school year can be a difficult thing. Students are antsy. There are a million things to be done. Kids want to play outside later and as a result have to roused more fully before they are able to open sleep bleary eyes to begin their days.
There are end-of-the-year performances, plays, and certificate ceremonies. Schedules are off and dinner is often served when bed time routines should be happening. Chaos in the best of times.
This year that chaos was compounded by a wonderful obligation. The seashore family was heading to the big apple for a wedding. A very exciting prospect, especially for Youngest as she was selected by her Godfather for the role of flower girl #2. There was packing to be done, car to be packed, sub plans to make, and arrangements for Oldest, who couldn't attend due to finals, to sort through and double check. Eventually we got everything sorted and organized enough to leave Sunnyville behind for a  long weekend. A trip and a time full of stories and observations.
So, while I may have taken a month-long hiatus, it is now officially summer and I am back! Look for a few articles about the trip that while they may not offer full bellied laughs, are sure to be good for an appreciative "hmmm!" Or maybe even a chuckle or two! See you tomorrow!

Crabs and Comfort

It was one of the coveted picnic locations. A covered picnic table, a view of the lagoon and canal, and a short jaunt from the beach. For the day, it would serve as base camp.

Moments after the gear was dumped onto tables and benches, the kids + Hubby made a beeline for the lagoon. Youngest was immediately distraught by the amount of life that could be found under her feet. At each of Boy's new discoveries: Horse Conchs, misc feeder fish her unease increased. But the topper was the discovery of various crabs. The lagoon is a virtual crab nursery. At this not-so-rare and amazing discovery Boy set out to catch every one he could nab or lure. Youngest refused to place even a piggy within striking distance of pinchers she imagined were awaiting her first misstep. Soon cousins were on-hand to aid in crab catching. Buckets filled with water and misc. crabs decorated our base. Taking pity on his sister, Boy offered her a bucket of Conchs (think big sea snail) which she enjoyed enormously. 

There was much fun to be had by all. Adults were able to visit while enjoying the escapades of the youngsters. Trips were made to the beach where everyone swam and kids only buried one another in sand sarcophagi (no adult volunteered - having learned the discomfort of sand trapped in suits long ago) There was kayaking, and the enjoyment of the company of others. A day of sun and fun sure to lead to an early bedtime.

Back home after all wildlife had been returned to its sanctuary, the kids were cleaned and nestled into bed.
About an hour after final good-nights were given, a slow steady creak announced the opening of Youngest's door. Bleary-eyed and unfocused she stumbled into the living room.
me: "What are you doing up honey."
youngest: "I can't sleep."
me: thinking *obviously* "Why not?"
youngest: "I'm uncomfortable with crabs."

yup, that would do it, I thought. However, have no fear; Youngest didn't then nor has she at any time actually have crabs. She merely was considering crabs and how they could come out of the water, grow to the size of the minivan, and destroy her family. Bless her innocent little heart. and curse her bad mommy's potty brain that made the leap and had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

Now, it's Friday! Yippee! So, you know what to do: click this link and head over to DadBlogs to read some great stories by moms and dads who probably don't have their thoughts in the gutter.

This n That

In honor of Thursday this post with be reflecting the jumble of thoughts that hit as the work week nears its end but still refuses to die.

~ A boy had come calling to talk with Teen a few times. She politely blew him off both times. When teased questioned about her lack of interest, she responded to the effect that he looks like a good kid, but dad and I wouldn't like him. Last weekend I saw him outside the local grocery store, looking for cigarettes! Lesson: Don't judge a kid by his haircut and clothes!

~ We are getting a litter of puppies vaccinated and certified today. There were eight in this very unexpected litter. We had spent 3 weeks listening to daddy-dog cry and mommy-dog looking sad while we kept them completely apart. One morning they managed to sneak off together and we have been paying the price for 8 weeks. Lesson: Love finds a way. (Daddy-dog is now fixed and mommy-dog has an appt.)

~ I broke-down and bought a new bed recently. After scouting some ads hubby and I walked into a store, completely unaware of the procedure. We haggled, negotiated, almost walked out and ended-up with a floor model at a far more reasonable price. Lesson: Contrary to my previous belief, buying a bed is NOT like buying a shirt. It is far more like buying a car - yuck!

~ Speaking of cars, we had to buy one of those this week too! Yep - things are crazy here. After leaving Hubby's car for the junk yard at 200+K if it were a horse it would have fallen down dead we replaced his car. Today, I get to drive it - so he can take the puppies in the van. Yea, me!

As anyone can see, I need the weekend to come. If for no other reason than to clear out the cobwebs in my mind. Hope the rest of your week is peaceful!

Tenacity - Mom's Gift

"Your mom is always so organized and calm. Did she ever get mad when you were a kid?" These are the types of statements I hear about my mom when I take my kids to their pediatrician. (See, my mother is my pediatrician's accountant, which is very helpful when she needs to run one to the dr. for me.)

I always say she IS just a great mom. Then Mom and I laugh about how people perceive one another. After 15 years, it is pretty much a standing joke. Let me explain. My mother had six kids. Having half that many myself, let me assure you, raising kids without ever yelling is impossible unless you are physically unable to speak.

And my mom was a yeller. To the point where she would yell at you, leave the room, think of another trespass, and yell at you from another room or even another level of the house! Not. Exaggerating. 

Heck, the woman stands 5'2 and teen boys were terrified of her wrath my husband included.

The ability to seem imposing is one of the gifts imparted to me. There is no way I could keep 40+ 7th grade boys in line each day without screaming if I didn't have some skill in the fine art of seeming to be more scary than I am.

Her ability to pick herself up after the collapse of a 20 year marriage and return to school was phenomenal. But even more so, was the fact that she did this while 3 children were still at home needing care and 2 were in college. I can even remember sitting in the college lounge doing homework while she was in class mostly I remember the hot chocolate vending machine.(she went on to own her own accounting firm)This model may be the reason I was able to return to college and complete my degree barely a week before Youngest was born. 

She is a feisty, strong woman who made it known to her children that there was nothing a little hard work and a lot of commitment wouldn't achieve. She lead by example and with a ton of love. For that I am eternally thankful. Happy Mother's Day!

The Ants Go Marching

It was Teen's spring concert event. She required an early drop-off, just minutes away. The kids were eating, an early and easy meal of frozen pizza and applesauce, Dad was squeezing in his gym-time. So, I left Boy and Youngest at the table to run Teen to pre-concert rehearsal. Simple, multi-need family juggling. 

Upon returning, 15 minutes later, Youngest is scootering in the driveway. Her face is pulled down in a frown, announcing to the world at large there is a problem in her realm. She waits for me and being the obliging mother I ask what is going-on. 

Bravely she begins to tell me about her hatred for ants. "THEY DESTROY EVERYTHING!" She exclaims as the sobs begin. Great gulping sobs of sorrow and pity. 

Wondering if she spied a dead bird serving as a meal for a nearby colony, I ask her why. "They KILLED a caterpillar!" As she collapses into my arms, looking for relief from the cruelness of nature. 

I console and cajole her, as I try to scarf down a slice of pizza while comforting and picking a dress for her. Yes, moms should be given attachable limbs at the birth of their first child.  Just as I feel she is beyond the worst, may be listening to me remind her that ants eat dead things, "They're garbage collectors, the  caterpillar was surely dead," Boy notices the commotion playing out in front of him. In an effort to console, he tells her, "I saved it. I got the ants off and put it in the grass." Bless his heart. I know he was trying merely to appease her. But now there are torrents of tears streaming down her face. Because she knows a dead caterpillar, and that bug was dead. 

A search of the area ensues. I left this to the kids, as I really needed to eat something before we left in 3.5 minutes. No caterpillar miracle had been worked. So, I slyly changed the subject, by pulling out Youngest's favorite dress. Threw it over her head and took the sniffling, teary-eyed one and Boy to meet-up with family and listen to a delightful evening of strings. Ahhh parenting.

To read more great parenting blurbs and bits, head on over to DadBlogs. There are many gifted writers waiting to share with you!

Just one last thing...

The house has been thoroughly cleaned, all the laundry is washed, folded, and away. It is the morning of departure. A weekend away at long last.

Kids clothes - check

tents - check

kitchen supplies - check

bath and pool needs etc - check

my clothes - uhhh, where are my clothes? 

Ahh, crap. I didn't pack yet. Soon, this leads to exasperated head shake from husband and children who are running around like they are bovine suffering from mad cow disease. Ok, quickly throw the pile I planned into a bag, and hand it off to the van-packing patrol. We. Are. Good. To. Go.

Uhhh, just one more minute, hon. Ignore head shake number two from Hubby. Quickly run over to the sink to hand wash the few dishes created while I was busy tossing my wardrobe into a duffel. Double crap, there is food waste in the can - have to tie that up and bring it out. Double check the note to neighbor about dogs' and other assorted animals' needs while we are gone. OK. Done. 

Actually sitting in the car...Double crap. Hop out and just make sure at this point Hubby gives his most exassperated head shake of the morning the doors are closed, everything off, AC is turned way up. In the house once again, notice a used cup on the table and a plate on the desk, quick wash. Ok, we're gone.

In the car, Hubby wants to know: why stress so much? A conversation we have had many, many times before. For some reason, men just don't seem to get it. Or maybe it's just me? Let me know what you think...

After you comment - head on over to DadBlogs for Fatherhood Friday. Check out some great stories. You won't regret this one last thing!!

If - At the Park

Spring is here and as surely as night follows day summer will soon be welcoming everyone to its long afternoons and family get-a-ways . With this in mind, I have decided to post a public service message to those families embarking on theme park excursions. A way to keep your head if you will...

If you can keep your cash when all about you

are spending theirs and coming to you

Encouraging forcing children to earn their spending money ahead of time is a plus (We made ours volunteer a day to earn their tickets) Also helpful is using the gift shops as an attraction - not an area to spend. We prefer to try things on, take pics and move-on. "Yeah, you look great in that hat - and now we have a pic, what more do you need?"

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

but make allowances for their doubting too;

Have a map - preferably before hand or make time to plan a route. Heck, they're free and make great pseudo-souvenirs get a map for everyone and let the kids see where you are and where you are headed. Personally, I like the rest stops!

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting

The waiting sucks, and it is tiring. In families with various ages, sending older ones off to hit certain activities is a great plan. Photo happy moments are strongly encouraged whenever you cross their paths. To prove later in life that they were in fact present

Or being cut and shoved, don't lose your smiles

Or facing hunger, allow for snacking 

Keep your backpack stocked with water and easy snacks. It is well worth the extra line.

Think of the exercise, your burning miles!

 Especially on the hike back to your car!

If you can walk with crowds and keep your cool

Or be rained on - be prepared for rain, the parks empty and the ponchos are a fortune - bring your own

Or watch your princess fill with a joyous flush

If teens take sibs willingly to swim the pool

Let them! Enjoy your break, grab a drink and walk over later!

If kids say thank you in a spontaneous gush

Come-on what parent doesn't eat that up?

If you can find your hubby's perfect toy

Go ahead a splurge - who doesn't like a keepsake?

And accommodations in which to sleep

Yours is the world filled with enchantment and joy

And which is more - memories to keep

(ok a bit long winded - but blame Kipling!)

A Letter to the Court?

I was mentally giving myself a head-slap as my feet hit the floor this morning. Why oh why don't I keep a notebook to jot down ideas as they come? Feeling extremely deflated I went to Yahoo news and read this story. Ok, you don't want to click - I get it. 

The gist is that Cameron Douglas has all kinds of people asking for leniency in his sentencing.  He plead guilty to dealing crystal meth and cocaine, but he had a difficult life. It's tough to be a raised by millionaires and movie stars. 

I do believe he has issues. It is doubtful that anyone turns from a perfect life to addiction and felonies. Money and fame are not the foundation of good parenting and happiness. And while there ought to be better ways to handle addicts there simply doesn't seem to be any system in place in this country.

But, if money, privilege, and eloquently written letters are the basis of our legal system there is a problem.

Don't Molest the Manatees

(I am aware that I have been on an unexplained leave. A busy work schedule, spring prep, and the usual nonsense have conspired to keep me so busy or exhausted I haven't written. But, please please give me another chance! Summer is coming soon and with it a renewed dedication to a sense of fun!)

Manatees, we all know what they are. And if you don't I suggest adding more Diego or Zoboomafoo to your TV diet. My family took a trip specifically to swim in the same water as them last year. There are all kinds of laws and etiquette involved in swimming with manatees. They are very protected. And though we all know it is the propellers of boats that are responsible for the maiming and killing of these gentle creatures, the law makers seem determined that people swimming are to be monitored because we are (apparently) dangerous.

Being the law respecting, nature loving person I am neither I nor my family has ever molested a manatee in any way. I do not swim with heads of lettuce in the hopes of attracting sea cows and I do not enter protected areas. But a recent camping trip made all of these precautions irrelevant. 

The spring run was gorgeous, even if cold; it was spring break and my sister and I had 8 kids to entertain. Of course we were going tubing. Everyone had a float/tube to relax and soak in the pristine nature. As I shoved Youngest's float away from the dock it occurred to me that she wasn't wearing a personal flotation device. Ughh. I would need to stay near, as we haven't swam in a bit. 

Once the shock of the 72 degree water faded, leaving everyone's legs and torso's nicely numbed, we were prepared to head down river. Oh, yeah we heard the ranger trying to call us back to the dock, but we were in the current...what was there to do but float? Just as we turned a slight bend in the river we met AJ. He introduced himself to us in no uncertain terms. It began with him changing direction and swimming our way. He got really close then turned a flip in the water. 

No, Aj was not a teen boy eager to meet Teen and her two friends. AJ is a manatee, a VERY friendly manatee. Swimming near our pack of floaters was not enough. He would stick his snout above the water directly in front of Teen. He was swimming under our feet and brushing against our legs. Even when we tried to open our circle (for fear the aquatic animal would feel trapped) he continued to nudge and play. Stealing furtive glances to the shore, in fear of the wrath of the ranger, I tried to enjoy the spectacle before me. Kids laughing, Boy noting AJ's tracker and his name branded into his back, everyone feeling the joy of the situation and the wonder that is an unplanned encounter with nature. But I was worried about the repercussions. What if we were accused of molesting this poor soul? 

After we had our experience, and my fear of the law overwhelmed me, we tried to paddle our floats, moving away from AJ. Laying across my float, holding onto Youngest I noticed she was moving further away. I pulled her toward me only to see that AJ was under her raft. He was lifting her slightly with his back and playing with her. Remembering she was not wearing a life jacket and could possible panic I calmly continued working her off the manatee. AJ in response rose from the water between us taking a breath, giving a turn, and going under. I eventually shoved Youngest toward Teen and Boy and went around AJ to rejoin the group. So, while I am all for protecting the manatees, what can you do when a manatee is molesting you?

Spring Break Has Sprung

It's Friday! While for me that means many wonderful things, for you it is a great opportunity to visit Dad Blogs and read some great posts at Fatherhood Friday.

Spring may have sprung a week ago, but more celebrated by far is the fact that starting today spring break has sprung. It is the little taste of summer before the real thing descends in force, the teaser that makes the last 9 weeks of school without a single break drag-on like the responsibility lecture your parents gave you as a teen. Here in Sunnyville this spring break is different from the many that have come before. It seems unclear how things will play out, plans may require altering and previously planned activities are now seeming precarious. The culprit? Weather.

Though I have spent the very long winter biting my tongue, largely for fear of being lynched by those of you suffering snowstorms, the time has come for an airing of Sunnyville's unusual weather. Down here in the US jungle, there are predictable patterns. It is DRY in the winter, it rains daily in the summer which is really convenient if you like to take a sauna on your lunch hour. Sweaters are almost obsolete as they are worn for roughly 2 weeks of the year, and what a waste of closet space that is. Camping and outdoor activities are pursued with gusto in the spring. It is hot enough to swim and predictably sunny. But not this year. 

This winter has sent parents scrambling for coats and long sleeved shirts to outfit children who chafe at the mere mention of jeans. In an effort to remain upbeat I reminded myself and my children many times it would be only too soon that they would be sweating and wishing for a cool breeze. But painting an upbeat attitude about rain in March? That is beyond even my Pollyanna abilities. 

And now we are faced with the dilemma of our traditional mom & kids camping excursion. Last year we were sweating and swimming. This year they may or may not have opened the spring run because the Manatees are still huddling for warmth. Last year there wasn't a cloud in the sky, this year there exists a 30% chance of rain! Teen says not to worry, they will find plenty to do. I am sure Teen and her friends will. It is my sister, her kids, my younger kids, and me I am worried about! Note to self: pack plenty of crafts, games, and beer.

Mood Elevator

It's Fatherhood Friday. So (as soon as you have posted a comment for me!) click the link and read some wonderful insights by some great people.

You know those moments. The times when kids are more like demon-spawn than the precious little bundles of joy you proudly held soon after birth. You're last nerve has been worked upon and you are just crabby. You think to yourself, why do I bother - no one seems grateful or to even notice you are alive.

Of course, these things have never happened to you. But perhaps you have read about them or seen them on TV. 

I think Hubby may have found the perfect fix to times such as these. While I lounged moody and brooding upon the couch last night, he began by attempting conversation. I was pleasant, but he could tell the irritations of the day hadn't gone peacefully to sleep with the children. He asked what he could do, and I hesitated. After all the guy had only just sat down after working and taking Teen et al to the gym and doing his own workout and then taxi service. I know he was tired too. But eventually it came out. 

I wanted cheesecake. Something we do NOT keep in the house (it's taboo - like cookies, cake, and donuts) So, he said no problem. He checked to be sure there was nothing else needed around the house and then he left. Returning with a bit of heaven in a package. I had a slice while he ate his late dinner and we visited while we both ate. My mood was indeed improved.

A Morning Adventure

The stress-free testing day morning plan was coming together perfectly. We were cruising along at a fair clip. Teen had been dropped at school, Boy and Youngest were dressed and ready. 

Garbage had been taken to the curb for collection. Simple lunches were packed and ready. Dogs were watered, fed, and in the yard. It was 5 full minutes before necessary departure time and we were heading out the door. 

Relishing in the glory of a well orchestrated morning, I climbed into the car.

As I shifted the van into reverse, everything changed. Darting out from an unknown escape route, Ollie the Springer Spaniel bolted into the drive. Cajoling, holding the car door, begging and swearing in turns I attempted to lure the beast into the van. Up and down the street he capered, looking back to beckon us to continue the game. 

After 10 minutes of torture I was forced to make an executive decision. I left. Soothing the kids with thoughts that he may return home on his own while my mind insisted he would suffer the fate of countless 'possums I headed to an errand that needed running before school. Guilt won. With errand complete and time ticking away, we headed home to put the other dogs inside, in case Ollie passed on his escapist tricks. 

As we neared home definitely not early or relaxed anymore, six sharp eyes looked toward houses for our Houdini dog. With a sigh and no knowledge of Ollie's whereabouts, I cut through the house to let the dogs in. Of course upon opening the door the first dog to spring into the view was our escapist, Ollie. Springers are a lovable, loyal breed but they require the security of Fort Knox.