round tuit

something right

2011-05-23T21:17:00.009-05:00

Do anyone else's kids' homework sessions involve tears? I mean from the kid, not the parent - although I have shed a few in frustration. Today's session with the Bee did. Not that I should have been surprised; she is definitely the most emotional out of the three kids. That, combined with the assignment introducing her to probability (in the first grade, can you believe it?) and a lost-sleep hangover due to a weekend road trip, was no shocker. But it didn't make it any easier, either. She was supposed to write several statements, first about herself and then about her parents, showing events that could happen to her/us, and then write "likely" or "unlikely" next to them. For example:

My mom will eat chocolate tomorrow. Likely
If I put a football on the side of a hill, it will roll uphill. Unlikely

I don't know if she was having trouble coming up with examples, or getting bogged down with all the writing - it was a lot and writing is definitely NOT her favorite subject - or just didn't get it, but she was slowly melting into a puddle of tears and her own self-pity, and her mother really was trying to be patient and understanding and calm, but was also about ready to kick something; maybe the dog. But I remembered some words from my own prayers this morning...something about "please help me to speak kindly to my children, and with love." And I guess this included the dog, because she was spared. (I would never actually kick the dog, I have to interject here.) So I exerted myself a little more, offered loving, supportive, kind words - words about having a choice about her attitude in this tough situation, about how she could choose her reaction, how she could go out and play as soon as she was finished - and then had to remove myself from the situation before I completely lost it, because it wasn't working. I went into the kitchen and started washing dishes, while the little waif mourned her terrible lot on the floor next to the coffee table.

And then, halfway through the nonstick cookware, the crying stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, a little hand picked up the pencil and put it to paper. I remained silent, not wanting to draw attention to it. She was now working on the side of the paper, I knew, that had to do with writing about what her parents were likely/unlikely to do. I thought of past homework sessions which involved frustration on the part of both parent and child and secretly worried that something like "My mom will yell at me..........likely" might end up on that paper, and then what I would do when the teacher called about it, etc. But a few minutes later, she quietly and humbly walked up to me and handed me her homework - all wrinkled, because she had crumpled it up and thrown it on the floor at least twice. "I'm finished, Mom." And I couldn't help smiling. I also couldn't help putting dinner back in the oven for 10 extra minutes so she could go outside for a well-deserved scooter ride with the neighbor kids.

That was when I also sneaked a peek at her work: "Dad will go to werk. Likely. Mom will make dinner. likly."

And then this....

Mom will love me.likely

Guess I did something right today.

2:12:20

2011-02-20T21:51:00.003-06:00

I am grateful today for whatever caused me, while I was loading my ipod shuffle Friday night, to place in the midst of Lake Wobegon stories, "Selected Shorts" and "This American Life" podcasts, arrangements of Vivaldi and various songs kifed from Pandora; the song "Here Comes My Girl" by Tom Petty. It came on at mile 12.5 of my second half marathon, when the wind was in my face and my legs were begging me to "just walk a little bit". And it made me imagine my dh waiting for me at the finish line, singing (okay, thinking; let's get real) those words. And then it made me pick up my feet and make it to the end, Stuntman and Flip and Miss Bee running the last 50 feet right along with me. Thank you.

funerals i have known

2011-02-15T20:07:00.008-06:00

I went to a funeral for the husband of a friend in my book club yesterday. It was beautiful and sad, for lack of more expressive terms. But that's just what it was. I didn't know her husband at all, so I was there more for her.

I have been to five funerals. The first two were for grandparents; I was 8 at the first one and a senior in high school at the second, so my degree of understanding differed greatly between the two. The third was for my father-in-law, who died in a car accident, just after we had moved two states away and I was pregnant with Flip. Two of my sisters-in-law were also pregnant, and out of the three cousins that came from those pregnancies, the two boys bear their grandpa's name as their middle name. The fourth was for a child, a funeral I'm still not sure why I attended. They were a family who had visited our church meetings a few times, and they sat behind us, and their kids were little and fun to watch. Their little boy died under suspcious circumstances (involving a caregiver), horrible to think about - I still don't know what the outcome of the investigation was. And this was the fifth.

You can't go to a funeral without putting yourself in one of the many roles you see played in it: the widowed spouse, the daughter/son/parent/other family member of the deceased, the deceased him-/herself. Through all 5 of those I've attended, I've found that even if you don't know the deceased that well, you still react. Even if it's like this one - just watching the strong, tough matriarch of a family of 8 children, weary from dealing with 2 years of her husband's illness and watching his battle unfold, walk down the church aisle on her son's arm behind the casket with her eyes full of tears, still trying to be strong and tough.

music man

2010-11-10T14:58:00.008-06:00

Flip, as a newly minted middle-schooler, chose band as an elective this year. Despite my status as a former band geek (actually, I'm not sure I can say "former" - I still love it), I can say with all forthrightness that I did not influence this decision at all. Really. He made a list of pros and cons for all his elective choices and based his decision on that. So, now we are serenaded by "Go Tell Aunt Rhodie," "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and "Ode to Joy" on the trumpet, almost every day. (We also hear his two newest hits - the theme from the Wallace and Gromit movies and something that sounds like Land of a Thousand Dances - both of which he figured out himself.)

Two nights ago, we had the opportunity to go hear the Dallas Brass perform at a fundraiser for a local high school. The word went out to all middle school and high school band students, and since we (read "I") didn't want to miss the opportunity, we invested in tickets for the whole family. (I really did want everyone to go, but mostly Flip. Frankly, I wanted to see Flip get really thrilled about something. He can be quite passive in his enthusiasm.)

Dallas Brass is composed of 5 brass players (2 trumpets, a trombone, a horn and a tuba) and 1 percussionist. They tour around the country as well as some international locations, and also do clinics for school bands, which is how we got to see them. The concert spanned American musical history, beginning with some classical music (from Europe, since that's where many of our forefathers originated from) and working its way through patriotic marches, folk songs, jazz, the birth of rock 'n roll, and even some hip-hop. (At least I think that's how that last one would be defined - I don't know; my radio's usually tuned to NPR or this really great independent rock station.)

I was riveted from the first note. I've always loved the big, warm sound of brass, so it wasn't hard for me to get caught up in what was coming from the stage. But when my eyes weren't on the stage, they were on Flip. Come on, I found myself silently pleading with him, feel this! See what you could do! Someone's throwing you a ball, catch it! I didn't care if the trumpet specifically got him; it could be any of the other instruments. Mainly just the music. The first half of the concert came and went. I asked him during the intermission, "So, what do you think?" "Oh, it's pretty good." (Pretty good??? my inner band geek griped, but I restrained her.)

The second half began, and somewhere - I don't even remember where - a big grin spread across his face, his eyes got bigger, and the light went on. It might have been during the 15-minute drum solo, or the jazz piece that all 5 brass players came down into the audience to perform (the trombonist was flinging his slide right down our row, and Miss Bee, who had fallen asleep, didn't even wake up!), or the performance with the other middle school of the theme from "Super Mario Brothers", but his foot started tapping somewhere in there. He was getting it! Oh, I was ecstatic. He stayed with it all the way to the end, which was school-night late (10:00), which - who knows? - might have been the real reason he was grinning so much.

After the concert, the members of the ensemble assembled in the lobby to sign autographs and answer questions. I persuaded Flip to have one of the trumpet players sign his program (there were CDs and posters available for purchase which would have been better to sign, but we had already blown our budget for the evening on the tickets). Flip was nervous to ask him, but I went with him and he was okay. I told him Flip was a new trumpet player this year, and he asked him how that was going with his mouth full of braces, and then told him that when they came off, he'd sound awesome because there'd be nothing standing between his lips and the trumpet mouthpiece. That seemed to satisfy Flip, and on that note, we went out to the car and drove our tired family home.
I wish I could tell you about the hours of dedicated practice that followed this occasion, but I can't. Even as I finish this post (today is 2-15/11, 3 months after I started it - I know; I'm playing catch-up), the trumpet-practicing battle wages on. But now Flip's repertoire has extended to include "Erie Canal", several Christmas carols, and a few scales, major and chromatic. And when we filled out a questionnaire last month for his Primary class at church for the other kids to learn more about him, his response to "what do you want to be when you grow up?" was "jazz musician". He could still turn out to be a music man.

10!

2010-10-10T19:10:00.010-05:00

Today is a special day, not to be repeated for another 100 years. Notice the date? It's 10-10-10! Such a day must be celebrated, don't you think? Here is the breakdown of the roundtuit household 10-10-10 party:

Tomato soup with 10 mix-ins to choose from: salsa, cheddar cheese, smashed-up tortilla chips, taco seasoning, goldfish crackers, Ritz crackers, crumbled bacon, chopped pepperoni, parmesan cheese, and Cholula sauce (for DH). Homemade, slightly burnt-on-the-bottom breadsticks completed the meal. And......

....if you lay a breadstick next to your bowl of soup, you get a perfect 10! (Bah-dum ching!)

Dessert was a 10 made from chocolate cakes baked in a loaf pan and an 8" round pan, frosted with chocolate glaze. Yum!

The evening's festivities will conclude with the family listing 10 things we like about each family member. (And nothing like "What I like about Miss Bee is when she leaves my stuff alone" will be allowed, Stuntman.) It's a new roundtuit family holiday! What will we do for 11-11-11? Or 12-12-12? (Or maybe I won't bother planning anything for 12-12-12 - isn't the world supposed to end on that day? Who wants to put in all that work for nothing?) Happy 10-10-10!

P.S. I can't take credit for this fun idea, which was suggested by my friend Elizabeth, whose other ideas for special days such as "Mass Transit Day" and planned food fights (which I never had the guts to attend but admired for their creativity) will live long in my memory. (I wonder if she had a chocolate 10 for dessert today.)

P.S.

2010-06-16T21:15:00.002-05:00

Let us pause for a moment and remember DH and Stuntman in our prayers, as they are on a mountain on the previously mentioned pack trip and we would like them to return down the mountain, unassisted by stretchers, helipcopters or any other means that mean they were injured or otherwise unable to walk. We thank you for your support.

summer blues and greens

2010-06-16T19:58:00.004-05:00

Are you like me? Do you see the end of school/beginning of summer coming and brace yourself against having to entertain bored children (that's all my kids seem to say during the summer - "Mom, I'm so bored. This house is so boring") while simultaneously making lists of summer projects, things you want to teach your kids (because now you'll "have time"), vacation plans, academic instruction periods (because we can't let their brains turn to mush, now), etc.? Why yes, you're right - that IS a long list of to-dos for one summer, and NO, of course I won't actually DO all of them. I just make the lists. That's my point.

Along with the green of summer - the newness of being with the kids all day, the vision of doing worthwhile, wholesome activities without having to worry about school - there come the blues: the realization that making such lists also creates the possibility that the little box next to each item may remain unchecked because my list is too long (and let's face it, a little unrealistic - at least for me).

But don't worry about us; we're cool. Everything's cool. This week, instead of focusing on all the things I feel like cramming into the next 3 months, we had a "just for fun" week. DH and Stuntman are on a High Adventure pack trip with the scouts in New Mexico, so Flip and Miss Bee have set a goal: one "fun" thing every day (after swim practice and a few chores in the morning). Monday was a trip to the craft store to use our 50% off coupon on some projects, which we took home and worked on, yesterday was bowling and games with our summer bowling pass (check it out here, but only if your kids REALLY like bowling; I found out too late that 2 free games every day for a whole summer wasn't really Flip's idea of a fun summer activity), and today was lunch and a swim (and a sunburn on Bee's nose) at the pool. I'll admit, it has been nice not only not worrying about schoolwork, but also not worrying about The Summer Activity List. Isn't summertime when the livin' is supposed to be easy? This week is all about easy. Okay, so the dog chewed up Flip's orthodontic appliance, which we only just got Monday to replace the one he lost at cub scout day camp - that was definitely a blue; not a green - but we're cool, we're cool.

file under "what is this world coming to?"

2010-05-08T08:39:00.003-05:00

"I know this is stupid, but I really need help...have you ever taken an ACT for somebody, my friend that graduated from my highschool bak in 2008 had somebody take his test for him and he got a good score...I have football scholarships and I need to pass my ACT in order to get me scholarship, I dont want to have to go to junior college I already tried taking the test 5 times the highest score I got was a 12 i tried studying for it and iv'e had no luck...So at this point i'll do wat ever it takes ,I can provide the fake id for you and $400 for you if you would take the test for me and get a score of 18 or higher for me...Im sorry but I need my scholarship and IM willing to do wat ever it takes to get my football scholarship, so if you can help plz email me bak. the test is on 6/12/10"

This is a direct quote from a post on craigslist.com in our area I found while looking for possible editing/writing gigs. I want to write this poor guy a note and tell him how the fallout from this would be much worse than losing any football scholarship - worse because he'd have to live with the knowledge that his college career was built on a false foundation (no, not on his amazing football skills). He sounds so desperate. It makes me sad!

you're gonna stand

2010-01-27T22:22:00.007-06:00

So I went to a spin class today - so far the only weekly gym activity that is justifying my YMCA dues this year. The instructor was new to me, since she had a baby recently and took some time off (of course, she looked nothing like someone who'd had a baby recently), so I've only seen her substitute the past couple of months. Anyway, she was kind of a nice change from the sub, who I liked, but this girl has a different approach that I liked more. She had a way of preparing you for the changes in pace or tension that were coming up in the routine so you knew what was ahead of you: "Here's a hill - we're gonna increase tension on the way up, then sprint at the top and coast down." "You're gonna do 30-second sprints at a 7 on a 1-10 scale; we're doing 3 minutes; go!" (Or something like this. Like I said, I'm a once-a-week spin class attendee.) It got me thinking.

(Oh, and lest you think I'm morphing into one of those athletic types who uses sports metaphors for everything, don't worry. "Athletic" definitely does not describe me. And I rarely wax contemplative on exercise equipment.)

Actually, I was thinking how UNlike life this is. We don't usually get heads-ups when changes are ahead. Major changes, I mean. What I wouldn't give for a "Warning: back surgery ahead for husband" or "Caution: possible layoffs" sign. Then whatever shoring up of resources (sorry for the Sarah Palin quote; it does fit) had to be done would be done, and I'd be prepared for anything.

Of course, this is not how life works, and our mettle is truly tested with the unexpected. I mean, if someone were to even suggest that something like a struggling kid in school or a car-totaling accident might be in your future, even if you just what-iffed those possibilities, your first thought might even be Wow, I don't know how I'd handle that. Or That sounds hard. A reaction of self-doubt. But sometimes, it's not till you're in the middle of one of these that you suddenly find yourself handling it. There's just no other way through it. And you may find out that you're made of tougher stuff than you thought.

Here's one more thing that spin class instructor said that I liked. Preparing us for a climb, she told us to "gear up" (increase tension on the bike) and added, "Okay, you're gonna stand" (to pedal harder). Now there's something I can use, even with the unexpected. Because even when you don't know what's coming, it's good to think that - no matter what - you're gonna stand.

*thanks to www.vecteezy.com for use of header image*

things we learned in 2009

2009-12-30T17:00:00.006-06:00

Lift with your legs, not your back
A puppy's diet doesn't stop at dog food
Our living room can hold 44 people in folding chairs at a piano recital
All the laundry CAN get done when all 3 kids are in school
A puppy's diet doesn't stop at kids' shoes
Mom is the Bop It! champion of the house
Girls seem to learn how to tie shoes earlier than boys in this family
Car pools for swim team in the hot Texas summer are a good idea
A puppy's diet doesn't stop at the living room couch
Getting to stop at Sonic on your way home from middle school is fun
Watching your kids perform at something they enjoy is such a pleasure
Kindergarten isn't the end of the world (for Miss Bee or her mom)
A puppy's diet changes a little bit for the better when the puppy turns into a dog (but still doesn't stop at piano benches)
A 12-yr-old gets to be considered just a little bit manly after surviving a 2-night scout campout in the rain/snow
Hopefully 2010 will be a great year!

Happy New Year to all!

saturday morning blues

2009-11-01T21:38:00.005-06:00

Yesterday morning, I didn't sleep in.

Big deal, you say.

Well, let me explain. No - to quote one of my favorite movies - there is too much. Let me sum up.

Those of you who know me know my husband is a cyclist and burgeoning triathlete. He has several 100-mile bike races and 2 half-Ironmans (Ironmen?) under his belt. What this means is that he goes on early morning bike rides on Saturday, his only free day (Sunday is the Lord's day, not the cyclist's, in our family), and Mom stays home and faces the Saturday morning chore arguments solo. So no sleeping in.

The significance of the no-sleep-in yesterday? I'm getting to it.

Here's how our family spent this past summer: in and out of the hospital. DH herniated a disc in June, had minimally invasive surgery for it in July, got a spinal fluid leak 2 weeks later as a complication from that surgery, had a procedure done to try and fix it in August which didn't work, had a second surgery to stitch up the leak which did fix it but was NOT minimally invasive, and has been recovering ever since. That is a big, long sentence which tells you what our summer was like while leaving out a lot of the pain, emotional/physical suffering, hardship, service from friends/family, prayers, and little blessings in between. Needless to say, there was no bike riding (or much walking, for that matter) for dh during any of it. But I got to sleep in on a few choice Saturdays. This really isn't about me, though.

A few weeks ago, dh went to his follow-up visit with the back surgeon. He gave him the okay to resume normal activities, which he has begun to ease into. Yesterday marked the first bike ride with his buddies he has been able to do for over 4 months. He may not have kept up with the guys the whole time, but he returned home sweaty and smiling in his Arizona State University bike jersey, and you could tell his heart was full. So this time, I didn't mind getting up a little earlier to get started on my day. There will be plenty more Saturdays to come when I have to get up before I want to, and I will probably not have this good of an attitude about all of them, but this time, I am counting my blessings.

there's always more flab

2009-10-10T20:42:00.007-05:00

I was running with my friends the other morning and we were all talking about weight we'd like to lose (cliche, no?) when I mentioned I thought my legs were the biggest part of me. (They are an inheritance from my mom's side of the family.) My companion said, "So? Mine are bigger. And someone else's are bigger than mine, and someone else's are bigger than hers, and so on and so on....There will always be worse." I think her point was that no matter how bad you think you have it, someone somewhere is in a worse spot than you are.

I think I'm going to try to remember this whenever I feel like complaining. Maybe take a second look at what I'm about to gripe about, and decide if it's really worth the gripe. DH and I discussed that this afternoon, and he mentioned a PBS show he watched last night that gave him food for thought. See, DH's company has been in some financial troubles over the past few months (it's a small company) and its very existence is currently in jeopardy, so it's looking like he will have to find another job in a field where lots of other people are in the same spot - out of work, I mean. He is understandably worked up over this, which is why he was watching PBS in the middle of the night.

Anyway, he was all full of butterflies over his employment situation and turned on this show about 2 women, roommates, who are middle-aged and both living with disabilities. One has MS, and the other, who must act as caregiver, has Down's Syndrome. (Wow, right?) Anyway, they both are on Medicaid or Medicare (DH couldn't remember which) and some sort of their disability coverage was threatening to be discontinued. Apparently they were claiming that they were homebound (probably true, for the most part), but under some law, "homebound" means that you really can't ever leave your home if you want to be considered as such. These women heard about some group that was lobbying for this law to be changed, and decided to go to Washington to join in the lobby. Medicaid (or Medicare or whoever) somehow found out that they left their home, and promptly began an investigation into whether they really needed that coverage. (Wow again.) So then all this then made DH rethink his situation and realize that okay, he has a few contacts with acquaintances in his field who have gotten him interviews and names of recruiters, his boss and coworkers all have good things to say about him, and maybe we could be grateful for what we have and not pull out our hair just yet.

The whole job question and the accompanying what-ifs (what if we have to move? what if there's nothing out there? what if we do get an offer but it's really low and it's the only one?) aren't resolved yet, so I don't know if a moral is a little premature, but here it is: there's always someone with fatter legs.

thank-you notes

2009-10-05T21:57:00.003-05:00

(I got this idea from the first - and probably the last - "Late Show With Jimmy Fallon" I watched. Jimmy was a little wooden, but this idea was pretty good.)

Dear Sink of Dirty Dishes,

Thank you for waiting for me. You always do. No matter how much I try to ignore you. Would that other things in my life waited so patiently.

Yours,
J.

Dear Flip,

Thank you for practicing the piano when I asked. And thank you for getting through the whole practice session without a single rendition of Star Wars.

Love,
Mom

Dear 2nd Hunger Games Book,

Thank you for keeping me in suspense. And thank you for being a great escape from stress last week. And while I do appreciate a good cliffhanger, I don't appreciate having to wait a year to find out what happens next or who falls off that cliff. But you were still a good read. Really.

Sincerely,
J.

Dear DH,

Thank you for remembering to write cereal on the shopping list when you replaced the empty box from the pantry. Just for that, I might buy Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch next time.

Love,
J.

Dear Stuntman,

Thanks for getting up and doing your chores when your alarm goes off pretty much every school morning. And thanks for being a good example for the other 2 kids, even though they're never awake to see you setting it. You are a great kid!

Love,
Mom

Dear Miss Bee,

Thank you for letting me do your hair. I have been waiting 2 boys' worth of bowl haircuts/clipper jobs to play with some curly, girly hair. I know you hate the tangles and the pulling, but it's so much fun. Thank you for cooperating with the scrunchies, ribbons, bobby pins and barrettes. And I promise - ponytails only once a week.

Love love love,
Mommy

P.S. Thank you too for the new record - you've made it 1 1/2 years without giving yourself a haircut! I'm so proud of you!

lemonade stand

2009-07-10T19:05:00.004-05:00

Here's a summer memory I just had to record somewhere...
The neighborhood kids came by our house this afternoon asking if our kids could help them with a lemonade stand. They borrowed a folding table and set up down the street. I sat outside with a magazine just to keep an ear out (and because I was curious if anyone would stop). Surprised that several cars pulled over, I decided to dig through the change jar and get some myself. Approaching the table, I was informed that lemonade was a dollar (but they gave me a 50-cent discount), and when I got there, all the cups I saw were plastic/glass ones harvested from the neighbors' kitchen cupboards. I asked if they had any paper ones - "no, but we'll wash them out." With soap? "No, just water. But lots of water!" Did people like their lemonade? "Mostly they're just giving us the money."

For a germ-free lemonade stand experience, here's a link to that old lemonade stand computer game that we all remember from the 80's: http://www.lemonadestand.com/

summer love/hate

2009-06-30T18:17:00.007-05:00

What I like about summer:

swim team practices (and the moms who share in carpooling the boys back/forth)
fruit in season and the sales upon it - nectarines, peaches, plums, raspberries, strawberries
4th of July
the smell of water from the hose when it hits the pavement (always makes me think of my childhood)
easy schedules
summer rainstorms
popsicles
catching fireflies (and then letting them go)
having some time to teach my kids something new
what the kids smell like when they come in from playing outside: something like sunscreen, grass clippings, hose water, and kid-sweat
the stack of books that are waiting for me to read them
the free Six Flags tickets the school gives out to the kids who meet their reading goals
short haircuts

What I don't like:

heat
humidity
every summer I buy a cool, summery white shirt, and it's ruined within 2 days of its purchase (it actually made it to 3 days this year - still a bummer)
vacuuming up piles and piles of shed dog fur
no time of day to go on a run when it's not hot/humid
kids who don't get out of the pool when it's time to go
strange comments about my new short haircut ("Mom, you look like Willy Wonka.")

my inability to take a good picture of myself (that's actually year-round; not just summer)

elegy for a nerf

2009-05-11T16:02:00.007-05:00

Today we bid farewell to the little Nerf basketball. Though quiet and seldom seen, he was always good for a quick game of catch. The perfect weight - heavy enough to bounce on the floor, but light enough to bounce off a sibling's head to get his/her attention without causing harm. He joins dh's ipod headphones, several of Stuntman's socks, the player's manual for Robots on the PS2, a big hunk of the living room couch, 2 TV remotes, and many other objects, all helped along to the other side by Caramel the dog.

Farewell, dear friend. Like the others, our lives are just a little bit better for having known you.

dressed to distress

2009-05-10T18:14:00.003-05:00

Here (Mooooom!!) is a picture (I don't want toooo!) of Miss Bee's (Don't brush my hair!) Easter (Ow!) dress that (Get away!) I made (Can I ride my scooter?) for her (I don't want to smile!) last month (My knee hurts!) and that she has worn (Do I look pretty?) twice, counting today (Happy Mother's Day, Mommy!).

just did it

2009-05-04T14:52:00.003-05:00

Yes, bad blogger me.

Well, I just registered Miss Bee for kindergarten. Hoo boy. I can't believe I'll be all by myself next year. And I can't believe what a big deal I'm making of all this. I only say that because for the past 2 years or so, I've imagined (even daydreamed of) what it would be like to go grocery shopping, do volunteer stuff at the elementary school, go visiting teaching, go to dr. appointments, etc.; without a little shadow. And I imagined it would be GREAT! But all of a sudden, I find myself a little wistful. Actually, this started when she turned 5 a couple of months ago, as you might have noticed if you tuned in 2 or 3 posts ago.

I'm a little surprised. I don't remember feeling this way at all when the boys went to kindergarten. I was so ready for a break I practically put a boot to each of their hineys on their way out the door. Maybe it's because it's (probably) the last time I will register someone for kindergarten. I don't know, but I found myself thinking about the weirdest little things as I filled out the forms. Like how long it had been since I'd done this (okay, only 4 years, but it still seems like a long time) and how different this time was: how the first 3 digits of her SSN were completely different than the boys' (but the last 4 are exactly the same as Flip's, only switched around), that I answered the question "What would you like the kindergarten teachers to know about your child?" from a very different perspective than with her brothers, and that I got to check the "F" box instead of the "M" this time.

So get over yourself, pianogal, you're saying to me in your head right now. You'll enjoy the freedom. Take a nap, for heaven's sake. Hey, I even got a "congratulations" from the PTA lady at the sign-up desk, who knows Miss Bee is my last kid. And I will, don't get me wrong. So why am I waxing reminiscent about something that hasn't even happened yet, and come to think of it, how can I even use the word "reminiscent" about it? Am I the only one this happens to?

doughnuts accomplish nothing

2009-03-24T21:41:00.005-05:00

Today is Miss Bee's real b-day, so even though we celebrated as a family on Sat., I still felt like I should do something to recognize her special day. Last night I got the *bright* idea: doughnuts! Who wouldn't love birthday doughnuts? And since dh is out of town and I can't leave the kids alone to drive 8 miles to Krispy Kreme, let's make some! I mixed the dough last night, laid out all my utensils so I could get up the next morning and fry, and went to bed with visions of doughnuts dancing in my head.

Everything went great this morning - got the doughnuts made (even before the kids got up!), wished Bee a happy b-day when she got up with a candle in her breakfast, and went in to wake Flip. It's always hard getting Flip up in the morning, but I couldn't wait to tell him what we were having for breakfast. I mean, wouldn't you get your hiney out of bed for doughnuts?

Boy, was I wrong. Apparently, this kid only arises for Krispy Kremes. "Homemade" has no effect on him. So, after a hearty breakfast of 3 bites of my efforts - he said he wasn't hungry - he was off to get ready for school, leaving me and Miss Bee with a plateful of sugar-dusted goodness. We both ate our fair share, but there were still lots on the plate when we were finished. So what do you do with a plate of leftover homemade doughnuts after your kids go to school? Well, you snack on them all morning, if you're me. And what happens when you snack on homemade pumpkin doughnuts all morning? Nothing, because you feel like a big, lumpy mess. So I got nothing accomplished this morning that I wanted to do. But I'm off doughnuts for awhile.

it's that time of year again...

2009-03-22T16:55:00.005-05:00

It's officially spring! Time to change the geese clothes! (photo and description courtesy of http://www.mileskimball.com/)

"Give your geese a hippity-hoppity Easter update with cute bunny outfits, complete with ears! Each stylish ensemble includes bright wicker basket with decorated eggs. Polyester for indoor/protected outdoor use. Imported."

happy birthday to bee

2009-03-21T13:19:00.004-05:00

Next week, my little Bee will turn 5. We are celebrating today because dh and Stuntman will be at 5th grade camp on her real b-day, so today is presents and cake (and Peter Piper Pizza) day. (By the way, that cake is a PONY, not a "pink Snoopy", as dh said when he first saw it. Just clearing that up.)

Yep, my little girl will be a year older - headed for kindergarten, new best friends (other than Mom), homework, and maybe a gymnastics class. (Yeah, I'm having a little my-kid's-growing-up pout.) She finally likes some girly things - ponytails, pink, dress-ups - but will never agree with me on clothes, I think. She's a joy, a challenge, a tease, a friend, and even though she's running around in a an old Spiderman costume right now - my favorite girl. Happy birthday, Miss Bee.

what I needed

2009-02-15T21:23:00.004-06:00

Have you ever had one of those days (or nights, weeks, months, etc.) when everything has already been piling up on you for some time, and you really are trying to do better in those areas you have New-Year's-resolved to make an effort in, but you're getting no results or good feelings or blessings or anything? Your husband's in his office trying to catch up on the work he had to miss when he was incapacitated by strep throat for 5 days, so he's got his own stress to deal with, the kids (one especially) are absolutely non-cooperative with your keeping-the-Sabbath-Day-holy offerings, and you really did try to start the day with a good attitude.

When it all builds up to an edge you're about to fall over, then you run into the closet in tears, drop to your knees, and sincerely offer up a prayer that includes the words "I just can't do this part by myself - I need You." There's no miraculous turnaround, no beam of strength slicing through the closet ceiling to descend upon you, there's not even that warm feeling inside - not yet. It comes a little later in the day, when your arms are still held out in despair and your hands are still in a little bit of a claw shape because you're so frustrated, and...into them drops a little pearl. Small, but so precious because of what it meant and when it came. In my case, it was a "Thanks for dinner, Mom. Sure, I'll clean my plate." (This from the kid who five minutes earlier had wailed and wept because I told him we were having meat loaf for dinner.) And a little bit later, another pearl, in the form of the same kid explaining, quite thoroughly, a deep understanding of what his teacher had taught in Primary that afternoon. And another, when we were reading scriptures tonight, and Dad explained a passage we read and the very same kid (who, YES, was the main reason my hands turned into claws earlier) said, "I think I understand what this means. So if we do what God asks...[proceeding to reiterate Dad's explanation in his own words]." And that was all I needed. My burdens weren't taken away, and my children weren't automatically changed into perfect beings, and that kid will probably give me grief about the spaghetti we are having for dinner tomorrow, but I was given just a little bit of what I needed - hope. And sometimes, that's all we need.

oligodendroglioma

2009-02-01T21:52:00.006-06:00

About 5 years ago, my brother, the one just a year younger than me (I'll call him yb), suffered a seizure in the middle of a racquetball game and was rushed to the hospital. An MRI scan showed a tumor in his brain with the name you saw in the 8-syllable mouthful that is the title of this post. To make a long story short, surgeons removed the tumor (along with a bunch of tissue from his right frontal lobe) and he's been "okay" ever since. ("Okay" being defined as placed on anti-seizure medications and scheduled for regular MRI's for the rest of his life, but able to return to work, school, driving a car - after 3 months' wait - and life in general after recovery.) He had another seizure about 2 years ago, but other than that, has pretty much been just a regular guy (missing a chunk of his brain - that's yb's brain in the picture after his surgery).

Yb waited until after Christmas to tell all of us that his most recent MRI showed another growth in the right frontal lobe again. His doctors told him this was common with this type of tumor and scheduled him for another surgery. Last Monday, they removed the new growth, along with "quite a bit of tissue" (the surgeon's words). Recovery hasn't been so smooth this time, but yb still manages to find the time to blog about it.

What I find so amazing about this whole deal (aside from the marvels of modern medicine and their associated technology) is his attitude. I talked to him the night before his surgery, and we talked a lot about how he felt about the whole thing. His attitude basically boiled down to this: It's all in God's hands, and I know everything will be okay.

How different would our lives be if we all had this attitude? Toward everything, not just brain tumors? Would people still complain? Would this kind of patience extend to minor frustrations as well, like today, when I've chased the puppy around the house 8 times after she snatched 8 different things she's not supposed to chew? I just marvel at such a perspective. He's a great example.

55 cents' worth of steadfastness

2009-01-20T19:45:00.007-06:00

Okay, I know I'm not the only one who's ever had to refuse a child, but I have to tell this story...

Today I took Miss Bee with me to the music store to get some sheet music for an upcoming piano recital. She was very cooperative and didn't even touch any of the 4 dozen pianos in the showroom while I was finding what I needed in the sheet music section. We finished and got up to the checkout counter, which was where she discovered (among all the other music-related odds and ends for sale) a box of Whistle Pops. I had bought one for her on one (only one) previous occasion, but apparently she felt she deserved one again and asked for one. I felt she did NOT deserve one, since she had sneaked a Jello pudding from the fridge earlier today without asking, so I felt she had had her treat and told her just that. She responded by grabbing a blue pop and disappearing into the forest of pianos. (There went my cooperative little Bee.)

I was in the middle of my transaction, so I calmly finished it and fished the little stinker out from the pianos. We had a quiet but firm nose-to-nose conversation through our teeth, after which she very reluctantly put the Whistle Pop back in the box and burst into tears while I carried her out of the store. I hate being the center of public scenes like this, but several battles in Wal-marts all across North Texas with her brothers when they were her age have cured me of caring too much. She did not stop crying the whole 15 miles back to our house, and I heard all the way home how I was breaking her heart. Here are some examples of what came from the backseat:

"I wanted that! It was mine!"

"Oh, I miss her! I miss Missy!"

[me:] "Who's Missy?"

"It's the whistle pop! Mom, I named her!"

"Mommy, how could you do this to me??? Ohhhhh, MISSY! Now you're gone, and I don't get to lick you and play the whistle and eat you and - Ohhhhhh!"

"Mom, can you go back and get it? It has my germs on it - I licked it already!" [Yes, I was a bit horrified at this, but the sucker was completely encased in wrapping, and I'm sure if the salesman heard her say this, well, throwing 55 cents away wouldn't break the bank]

(If you've ever seen the movie Dan in Real Life, imagine the scene where Steve Carell sends his teenage daughter's boyfriend [who sneaked up to their family cabin] home in a taxi. Do you remember the daughter's reaction? Now imagine the same scene with a 4-year-old and a blue Whistle Pop, and you've got the idea.)

So, you may be saying, why didn't I just buy the candy? It was such a little thing. Was it that big of a deal? Was it worth 15 miles of tearful pleading and begging? Yes, dangit; I was standing my ground! And with my little girl, who I'll admit, is hard to say "no" to! There was a principle involved! Yes, she cried for 15 minutes solid, but we had to stop at the grocery store on the way back, and I got her out of the car and just let her sob in my arms in the parking lot for a minute, got her a sample from the tortilla machine in the bakery, and she was fine.

So now I'd love to hear your "NO" stories - blog about them and leave me a note in the comments. I'm sure you've got better ones than mine!

roots (so to speak)

2008-12-28T16:33:00.003-06:00

Well, here we are, 3 days after Christmas, socked up in Grandma's and Grandpa's house with all the toys, all the kids, Grandma/Grandpa, and one puppy. Yes, P-U-P-P-Y. Santa brought us a yellow lab, and she is just the sweetest thing. Driving her 1000 miles back home to Texas is going to be an adventure, though. If you don't see any more posts after January 6th, you'll know we didn't make it.

Anyhoo, we attended G & G's ward today - the ward I grew up in, where many of my friends' parents still attend (and a few of my friends; all-grown-up). This isn't, of course, the first time I have come back to visit and then go to church with my parents, but every time I do, I feel my age a little more. Not that I feel old, necessarily; but the space between my growing-up years and where I am now seems to get a little wider with each visit. Every time I come back, I see something or someone that reminds me of how it was to grow up here, and it gets me a little nostalgic. I know I'm not the only one this happens to, but you can still indulge me a little memory - right, reader?

So this time it was a "who" I saw that got me. I was sitting in Relief Society with my mom, waiting for the meeting to start. There was prelude being played on the piano, and I looked up to see who was playing it and it was my former piano teacher. This lady taught all of the kids in my family at one time or another, including me. I took from her for a total of 6 years (I had a short stint with another teacher that didn't last long because one of us ran out of patience - I think it was her) before quitting in high school because I got too busy. She must be in her 70s or 80s now, but you could still hear the skill in her playing; even when she was just playing the opening hymn (a task which I have done several times in R.S., and I'll even admit I don't bother with too much expression because I don't think anyone pays that much attention). Anyway, it was still a pleasure to listen to, and it made me think ahead to when I'm in my 70s or 80s and playing the piano - I hope I'm still playing at that point - and hope that my abilities will progress to the point that I still desire to put forth a pleasing performance, even if it's "just the opening hymn".

ice day

2008-12-16T10:02:00.004-06:00

The cold front blew in Sunday night, the freezing rain came last night, and the call from the school district came this morning - no school! It is an icy day in North Texas. We have had delayed school start days due to bad weather before, but never an entire day. Early morning seminary was cancelled, so dh got to sleep in a bit and decided to work from home today. With no morning rush to worry about, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast of cinnamon rolls (made from this bread recipe using 1/4 c. of sugar instead of 2 tsp. and then shaped into roll form) and hot chocolate and we all got to eat together. The picture is of what remained after our repast.
A practice for Miss Bee's preschool Christmas program was supposed to be this morning (I'm playing the piano for it), but got cancelled, as did the program. I hope they reschedule it - this year, since she's a little older, Bee might actually get up and deliver a tear-free performance. (Also, the piano accompaniment deal is a paying gig, so the extra Christmas money would be nice!) The first words out of Stuntman's and Flip's mouths this morning (right after "No school! High fives!") were "I am NOT going outside today!" But around 9:30, there were the neighbor kids knocking on the door, and suddenly, morning chores were done, pj's were off, coats/gloves/hats were on, and we were out the door for a slippery walk down the street. Now they're all across the street at the neighbors', inside, letting Dad work and Mom blog in peace. My toes are still frozen.

helpers helping

2008-11-08T15:13:00.002-06:00

I love it when I see random displays of kindness - people letting harried mothers cut in grocery lines, picking up things others knocked off of shelves, letting someone into their lane on the road (and the other driver giving a wave afterward). I tend to think most people intend to be good, and I hate to be proved wrong about this. Here are 2 organized ways of helping that I think are brilliant and give all of us (or at least those in North Texas) a chance to help.

First: our local public radio station has a show that comes on Friday afternoons called "Anything You Ever Wanted to Know", which consists of people calling/emailing in from all over our metro area with questions about - well - anything, and other people call/email in with answers. The questions range from "is there a local art studio where you can rent time with a pottery wheel" to "how do you tie a samurai top-knot" to "whatever happened to Paul Harvey?" It's just cool to hear people from all over offer to share their knowledge. Even the most useless tidbit you have stored away in your brain might just relieve someone's curiosity.

Second: http://www.freecycle.org/. You know how sometimes when you're cleaning out a closet or cupboard, you find something that you just don't need or use anymore, but doesn't deserve to be thrown out because it is still useable? Freecycle.org is the place to get rid of it. I gave away a hair straightening iron, an ironing board and a curling iron that I don't need anymore. The ironing board was old and bent (I even included this information in the description) and I still got a sincere "thank you!" email from the recipient, who must have really needed an ironing board. (NOTE: I realize that freecycle.org isn't anything new and has actually been around for awhile, but even though I have just discovered it, I still think it deserves any praise anyone can give it; no matter how late. It's just a good idea!)

P.S. In case you were wondering...adding camellia oil to the hair, and then tied into a top-knot on top of the head with the round top remaining will result in a traditional Samurai top-knot. Take note that Samurais also shave the top of the head in their top-knot. A traditional Samurai top-knot is a "Chonmage" (chone-maw-gay) in Japanese.

girl talk

2008-10-30T09:48:00.004-05:00

I have posted entries in the past worrying that my only daughter lacked a certain "girly-ness". That girlyness shows up every once in awhile, but I got a little from additional sources the other day. I was transporting Miss Bee and 3 of her preschoolmates on a school field trip to the pumpkin patch, and overheard this conversation:

Miss B: I'm going to have a birthday party! [not till March, but it never hurts to plan ahead]
Miss A: Can I come?
Miss K: Me too?
Miss C: Me too?
B: Yes, everyone can come!
A: I'm going to have a party too, and I'm going to invite B, C, and K!
C: Me too!
K: I'm going to invite B, A, C, and Madison [not in their class] to my party.
C: Who's Madison?
K: My friend.
C: Is she a mermaid?
K: No.
C: Is she a princess?
K: No.
C: (a little exasperated) Then what is she?
K: She's just a girl.
C: (thinks a minute) Oh. Okay, she's good.

I got my fill of girly for the day.

my new friend

2008-10-23T13:21:00.002-05:00

Our dishwasher broke in August. My parents were here when it happened, so Dad was entreated to apply his fix-it skills, but to no avail. After weighing the options, we figured it was better to just get a new one, since replacing the needed part (which might not have even been the right one) would have put us almost all the way to a new one anyway. But we didn't break into the emergency fund right away, because for a good two weeks, we washed dishes as a family every night. Everyone chose (or got stuck with) a job, and we just worked until it was all done. Sounds like a perfect family bonding moment, doesn't it? Well, it only lasted for a couple of weeks, like I said, but I think it was good for us. DH and/or I ended up doing them most nights after that. So anyway, after doing dishes by hand for the past 2 months, we finally bought a new dishwasher. It washed its first load last night, and I've gotta say, I've missed my friend.

So what have I learned from this experience (sounding like a mother, I know)?

Well, I learned that it is possible to get along without at least one of the conveniences of this modern age. And also that my children can survive without it, too (for 2 weeks, at least). DH and I had some nice conversations over the sink as well. And it was nice that when you were finished, you were finished - no big box needing to be emptied, all the dishes back in their places, no missing utensils. But I must admit, I'm glad the convenience is back.

So what about you? What are some appliances you think you could get along without? Which ones could you not? I'm curious!

food makeover

2008-10-20T13:37:00.004-05:00

I just listened to a bit on NPR today about food in America - where it comes from, where it's been, and how much has changed about our views on these subjects. The man being interviewed was Michael Pollan, who wrote an open letter to the next president regarding the future of the food we produce. There were many eye-opening tidbits in the interview, but too many to address in what you probably already think is a boring blog entry, so I'll mention one.

It seems we use quite a bit of fossil fuels in food production in the U.S. For what? Transporting produce to markets, of course, but also fertilizer and importing/exporting. Okay, you say, maybe some of that is unavoidable, like getting the food to grocery stores, but did you know that we do ridiculous things like catching sustainable salmon here in the U.S., shipping it to China to be filleted, and then bringing it back? Or exporting tomatoes to Mexico while we also import them from the same place? Wouldn't it be a whole lot simpler if we just exchanged recipes? Pollan suggested.

Since I can't do anything about the farmers, here is a recipe to swap in the spirit of the interviewee's mission:

Chipotle Butternut Mash (thanks to Southern Living)

2 medium butternut squash (about 3 1/2 lbs.)
1/2 (8-oz.) package cream cheese, softened
1 canned chipotle pepper in adobo sauce (not that expensive; I keep the rest in a Tupperware in the fridge and it seems to last forever)
1 T. lime juice
1 1/4 t. salt
1/4 c. firmly packed cilantro leaves

1. Cut each squash lengthwise into 4 pieces; remove and discard seeds. Bring squash and salted water to boil in a Dutch oven; cook 15-18 min. or until fork-tender. Drain and let cool 15 min. Peel and cut into large pieces.

2. Process squash, cream cheese and next 3 ingredients in a food processor (you could try a blender) until smooth, stopping to scrape down sides as needed. Add cilantro and pulse 5-6 times or until cilantro is chopped.

3. Transfer mixture to a microwave-safe bowl and nuke on HIGH 1-2 minutes or until thoroughly heated, stirring at 1-minute intervals. Makes 8 servings (4 1/2 cups).

*You can also make this a soup by adding equal parts chicken broth and milk until it reaches soupy consistency. So you could make the whole 8-serving mess and save half of it to make soup later!

Now it's your turn! Send me back a recipe in the comments or post one on your own blog (where more people would probably see it; ha ha).

fruits of our labors

2008-09-26T20:07:00.003-05:00

The cantaloupe plant wins the prize for the best-producing member of our garden. Bunnies ate our bean leaves, we only got a couple of 3-inch corn cobs, the squash and watermelon plants just didn't make it, and our tomato crop has been sporadic. But the cantaloupes have never failed us. Several small but decent-tasting specimens have graced our table over the past month. And one character - the one in the picture - has been taking his sweet, juicy time to ripen over many weeks, swelling and swelling to perfection. Today, on Miss Bee's and my daily trip to "check on the garden", we found that fellow turned completely golden and ready to pick. A drop of water fell from the stem when I picked him; I hope this is a sign of juiciness. Anyway, now he is in the fridge, chilling until dinnertime. He's as big as the melons in the grocery store (isn't this a sign of success??). We can't wait to try him!

writing on the wall (and the piano, and the door...)

2008-09-25T19:44:00.007-05:00

My school-age children don't like to write. (I have heaved many a sigh over this.) They are decent story-creators, but ask them to write one of their ideas down and it's like you just asked them to peel a bowl of grapes. So imagine my surprise (and dismay) when I came across the following writing samples:

(In case it's difficult to see, "H A" is scratched into the lacquer on the piano, and "mom is great" is written in pencil on the door.)

I have a pretty good idea of the culprits - our little Bee's favorite letters to write are "A" and "H", and Stuntman left a pointy arrowhead necklace he bought on his class field trip within her reach. As for the other graffiti, it was discovered on the door in what used to be Flip's room but is now dh's office. We tried painting over it, but as you can see, it remains. It looks like it says "mom is great", but it also looks like "great" might not have been the first adjective of choice. I can't make out what the crossed-out word is, but I have a scenario in my head that explains it. It plays out like this: Flip got sent to his room for some type of infraction, got mad at Mom for sending him, and started to write about his feelings (!) on his bedroom door. Then he thought better of it and crossed out whatever missive he initially wrote, and put "great" instead, remembering that Mom might actually see the work. This may be far from the true story, but inventing it was fun. What makes me laugh is that in my scenario, he ignores the fact that writing on doors is also an infraction, but I guess if you're going to break a rule, flatter your mother while you're doing it. Whatever the reason, I had to take a picture.

Maybe I shouldn't complain about my kids not liking to write anymore.

tag

2008-08-22T08:52:00.004-05:00

I have been tagged by myshore, which is the perfect distraction today, since our dishwasher is broken and I am tired of doing dishes the old-fashioned way. (I don't know when we'll replace it; in the meantime, the kids are getting lots of practice hand-washing everything and lots of "we didn't have a dishwasher when I was your age" speeches from Dad.)

Here are the Rules:

1. Link the person who tagged you.
2. Mention the rules on your blog.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks you possess.
4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.
5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

Here's my "unspectacular quirks" (the only kind I have):

1. My alarm clock is set 36 minutes ahead. (It started out as 30 minutes, but the buttons are kind of wishy-washy.) When it goes off in the morning, I love knowing that it's not really the time it says and I can push the snooze button at least 2-3 times before I actually have to get up. "Why don't you just leave it on the real time and then set your alarm 36 minutes ahead?" asks DH. Well, because that wake-up time looks a lot earlier. It's all psychological.

2. I love glitter. I fell in love with it as a first-grader and my love is forever. My 2 boys never fell for it the way I did, but my daughter has a casual enough relationship with it to give me an excuse to make my own glitter picture whenever she does. Maybe I'm just easily fascinated by shiny objects.

3. I am very proud of the handful of songs I can play on the guitar: "Today" by John Denver, "Free Fallin'" by Tom Petty, "Book of Mormon Stories," a little bit of "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer, "Itsy Bitsy Spider," and, thanks to my guitar lesson yesterday, the first two lines of "Dueling Banjos." Chords only, but someone could still sing while I play them.

4. I have what I think could be called a dislike for excess. I can't stand overt displays of unnecessary financial prowess (ex: the new "Croatian village" neighborhood in our town; complete with a lake, Mediterranean-looking architecture and a "Croatian" Starbucks - in Texas, for crying out loud). A "let's buy/build/make it just because we can" attitude, if that helps to explain it. I'm also an avid coupon user and I get excited about any bargain I find, both of which I'm sure are related to my dislike of excess. (So might my lack of attention to style, which I have suffered from since high school.)

5. I can't stop having this recurring dream that I go back to the ice cream parlor I waitressed at during college and try to waitress there again . And it's always at the Friday night rush.

6. I'm ashamedly addicted to old TV shows. M*A*S*H, Brady Bunch, Cheers, Mork & Mindy - these are a few that our DVR has been programmed to record at various times and how I've spent many I-can't-sleep nights. I wish they played reruns of Sesame Street - I love all the old Bert & Ernie sketches. This all means that I probably watched too much TV as a kid.

Quirky, unspectacular me. I hereby tag

NotSoDesperateHousewife
hapafamily
Amanda
merry heart

(None of my other friends have blogs. If I don't tag 6 people, does it mean I get bad luck?)

keep smiling

2008-07-28T14:25:00.004-05:00

Here's a bit of wisdom from our Miss Bee:
Yesterday in church, she kept herself busy drawing a picture. She drew herself with a big smiley face and long, curly hair (which she does not have but is patiently waiting to grow). She then proudly showed it to her brother, who gave it a "cool" and then proceeded to add a giant Pac-Man to the picture, hovering over the curly-haired stick figure with a mouthful of jagged teeth. Flip handed it back to her with a smug look on his face - you could tell he was just waiting for her to react. Her response? She pointed to her self portrait and smirked, "Look - ha ha, I'm still smiling!"

Good advice for us all.

what a guy

2008-07-26T22:48:00.004-05:00

DH is a great guy. Really. He always jokes that he married "up" and I married "down" when it came to choosing a mate. Today he out-performed, out-spoused and out-parented me. To illustrate, here's a list of what he did today:

went on a 30-mile bike ride
installed a new garbage disposal in kitchen sink
went to Home Depot for painting supplies (took Stuntman and Miss Bee
tore baseboards and carpet out of Flip's old room/DH's new office
ripped off trim around door and closet in office
spackled crack in ceiling
painted ceiling
turned mattress on our bed
took all 3 kidlets to Fry's to purchase a long-promised joystick for Playstation
painted walls in office
painted ceiling in office (2nd coat)
painted walls in office (2nd coat)
went to Kroger for 2-liter of Squirt

Here's what I did:

cooked eggs for one kid, Pop-Tarts for everyone else
changed sheets on bed
nagged kids to clean rooms
cut out fabric for "5-minute skirt"
threw a load of towels in machine
nagged some more
took Flip to Wal-Mart for school supplies
didn't find all supplies; made frustrated note to check Target later
chased kids away from Playstation; nagged about clean rooms
peeked into office to check DH's work
made "helpful" suggestions, shot down a few decorating ideas
nag, nag, nag
tried to sew 5-minute skirt; had recurring loopy thread problems
gave up on 5-minute skirt
ordered pizza
rewarded boys for clean rooms with Playstation time
took Miss Bee to Joann's to pick out a dress pattern and fabric
dragged Miss Bee out of Joann's
put kids in showers/tubs
put kids to bed
ate bowl of French Silk ice cream (well, it was lite)

My list was just as long; my results were not as successful as his. What a guy.

i'm so happy

2008-07-01T14:01:00.004-05:00

Miss Bee went through a "Yo Gabba Gabba" phase a few months ago. For those who may not be familiar with this show, it's a fairly new offering on Nick Jr. for the preschool set. It's very contemporary, very stylish, very "now" - think about what "The Electric Company" was to the 70's. Anyway, I have to admit that I looked forward to when she would ask to watch it, because I love the music. She turned it on today and my favorite song from the show was just coming on. It was through YGG that I found the Salteens, one of many bands that either perform or write music especially for the show. On the episode titled "Happy", this is their performance of a song whose bass line is just too catchy not to dance to:

I refuse the 21st century

2008-06-30T14:49:00.005-05:00

DH and I were having a brainstorm session last night on how to find more space in our little house. We have a 4BR house, with all of the bedrooms being occupied by us and our 3 kids. DH, upon acceptance of a new job offer in May, began working from home twice a week. We got rid of the TV in our bedroom and replaced it with an old table and just-about-as-old computer for him to use. This arrangement has worked okay for awhile, but now DH is complaining of too many interruptions (what; don't people constantly enter his office at work to sort laundry/give kisses/ask "where did you put the _____?"/complain that someone isn't letting them watch TV?). So, we've been trying to figure out what we could turn into office space.

During the discussion, he suggested that we get rid of all the bookshelves in our house and replace them with a Kindle system. A Kindle system involves something called electronic paper, about the size of a paperback book, which can store up to 200 books and lets you read them, one page at a time, on a screen. It also has wireless access to the Kindle store, where you can buy books at around $10 each. "Think of all the space we'd save!" he mused. I know he was also stumping for anything to replace our Wal-mart-cheap bookcases, which I'll admit do need to be replaced, are from Wal-mart, and do look cheap; since they were bought out of desperation when we were tired of getting our books out of boxes but too poor to afford what we actually wanted. Apparently this system costs less than replacing the bookcases with the desired pieces, which I know he thought would appeal to my frugal side. But although I have embraced much of the new technology of various kinds that's now out there (I wouldn't be blogging if I didn't), I choose to remain one foot firmly planted in the past on this subject.

Get rid of my books? I love them! I love going to my shelves in search of something to read or reread - and finding it. I even just like looking at them. Doing such serves as sort of a history of our life: here's a couple of my journals from when I was a teenager, on that shelf are a few textbooks from our college majors that we each felt were worthy of keeping, over here is the novel I used to pick up while I nursed my first baby, there's a whole row of book club books I loved, not to mention birthday and Christmas gifts, etc. And I love lending books to friends! When someone mentions a book they'd like to read and asks if I've read it, it's so much more fun to say, "Yes! You can borrow my copy!" than to just refer them to the library. (Let's recall Sesame Street and remember that sharing is fun!) And if they like it - and if my own library allows - it's even more fun to recommend and lend another by the same author when they're finished with the first one. You just can't do that with a screen! No, I'll keep my old-fashioned, corner-folded, beat-up books. After all, if you drop a screen-book in the water while reading it in the bathtub, that's the end of your screen-book...but paperbacks will always dry out.

the corn is as high as a 4-year-old's eye

2008-06-26T22:26:00.004-05:00

That's our Miss Bee, and that's our corn. It's only about 3 1/2 feet tall, and it already has tassels and the beginnings of small ears. I'm actually afraid the tassels and ears are coming a bit early because it seems like the stalk should be taller. But, hey - all this came from seeds we planted ourselves, however prematurely. We have also harvested 1 cherry tomato and 2 Romas. There would have been more cherries, but the birds got to a couple. A friend told me that if you hang CDs near your tomato plants, the reflective surfaces will scare the birds away. It's working! Our cantaloupe plant is also thriving and wins the prize for the most progress. It is twining all around its corner of the garden box. The parsley and basil plants have yielded one yummy batch of pesto, and a little green knob is slowly starting to look like a pepper. So far, our little garden is doing okay!

a-HA!

2008-06-09T15:50:00.003-05:00

Just a mommy moment to share with you...

It began on Valentine's Day. Continuing in the tradition of my mother, I usually get the kids a little gifty for Valentine's Day. Nothing real special; it just has to be something red, white or pink. (And cheap.) This year, I had no trouble finding something for Miss Bee (V-day seems to be all about girls), but the boys were a little harder. After searching Wal-Mart's cheapie aisles several times and coming up with nothing, a clearance rack of calendars caught my desperate eye. They had pictures of animals - no red, white or pink ones, though - and a big, RED "$1.00" sticker on them. Shazam, into the cart. Shopping done.

The next night, the kids (read: the boys) started nosing around at the dinner hour: "So...did you get us anything for Valentine's Day?" I knew I had scraped the bottom of Wal-Mart's barrel for those calendars, but hey; it was something. Anyway, I gave them the mommy "Maybe," and made them wait until after dinner, at which time I presented them with their cheap but heartfelt prizes. I didn't expect cheers, but I also didn't expect the incredulous "this is all we get?" or "calendars????" DH, I could tell, was ready on the other side of the couch with an "I never got anything for Valentine's Day when I was a kid" speech, but held his tongue. No amount of showing them how they could keep track of their important dates and approaching activities convinced them that this really wasn't all that bad of a deal. So they bedgrudgingly hung their $1 calendars up in their rooms, grumbling all the way.

Fast-forward to a day about mid-May, when I happened to be in Flip's room talking to him, and noticed the calendar, which was actually open to the right month and had several red X's on all the previous May days. "Flip, have you been using your calendar?" I asked. "Oh yeah, Mom!" I took a closer look, and sure enough, he was crossing off each day, counting the days till the last day of school. I flipped over to June and even saw comments written on some days: the last day of school ("excitement!" - spelled correctly, even); Father's Day ("I love you dad"), and the equinoxical (is that a word?) first day of summer (a big red "boo-yah!"). I told him how great it was - while still laughing at the "boo-yah" - that he was using the calendar.

I did not say "See? I TOLD you!" (Be proud of me - that's what I usually say.)

grateful

2008-05-16T13:04:00.004-05:00

Our dryer quit earlier this week. A neighbor is helping to replace the heating element, which we think is the primary suspect. But despite no dryer, people still need clothes to wear. The HOA has strict rules about hanging clothes out to dry, and it rained the first half of the week, so our bed has been doing clothesline duty. The bed may have been a cheap - I mean inexpensive - purchase when we bought it, but all that ironwork is just right for drying socks. Here is a picture of Miss Bee's wardrobe out to dry.

Yes, I remember "thank you for clothes dryers" in my prayers every night.

our kind of camping

2008-04-27T17:43:00.005-05:00

Last night we indulged in a family activity, and it's one of those that make up for all the "other" ones - by that I mean the ones that involve someone getting mad, sick, peed/thrown up on (both have happened in our family), injured, and others about which everyone is ecstatic when they're over. There is a campground in the northern part of our city with firepits, mountain biking/hiking trails and (gross) public bathrooms (though you are just as well off using a well-hidden spot off one of the aforementioned trails). It has been the location of many a scout campout and youth activity, and is also the perfect spot for our favorite activity - cooking our dinner outside.

We called up some friends who live near us and whom DH and I have known since our high school days (he and the other husband grew up together) and we lugged all our stuff to the first free campsite we could find. The contents of both our vans: hamburgers, buns, stuff to put on the burgers, fruit, corn on the cob, soda, charcoal, water, Dutch oven, ingredients for Double Chocolate Dutch Oven Cake (minus the can of Reddi-Whip, we were later dismayed to find out), 1 lantern, 6 glow sticks, 2 flashlights, 4 adults, 3 girls and 3 boys.

The four older kids had a great time exploring the trails (and the muddy creek) while the moms and dads and little girls got the fire going. The big kids were especially eager to help with the fire; we had an endless supply of sticks, bark, paper plates, etc. brought to us. Finally they trooped back to our campsite, feet muddied and arms mosquito-bitten, ready to eat. We finished the burgers, and settled all the kids on a fallen log near the fire with plates and cups full. That was a sight - 6 kidlets lined up on their seat, cans of soda in hands (a rare treat for both families), full plates on their laps, and mere yards away from a real fire. One of them joyfully raised his soda can as if for a toast, and you could clearly imagine what they might toast: "To...FIRE!" Everyone enjoyed some corn on the cob - Flip's fond farewell to it, unfortunately, as he is heading off to the orthodontist this week to have an expander installed in his upper palate - and of course, there was Dutch oven cake and s'mores to follow. Dark came on, the glow sticks were distributed, and shortly our campsite was raided by shadowy figures trailing blue, purple, pink and yellow streaks which shot through the air. Soon it was time to go, and it all had to be packed up - kids, food, glow sticks, cool rocks, snail shells and muddy socks. We said goodbye to our "camp"site and our friends, and the night was over.

No, it wasn't camping for real, but as far as we're concerned, we still got the best part of camping - cooking and eating outside, running around in the dark with lights, and of course...no one threw up. (This time.)

as martha stewart as i get

2008-04-19T19:55:00.003-05:00

I learned how to decorate these cookies at a R.S. Super Saturday a few years ago, and I was asked to teach a class on it this month for our ward's R.S. How-To group. (I don't have many skills I can teach a How-to group how to; this is probably the only one.) Anyway, I had to take a picture to email with the invite, so I thought I'd share. This is another one of those skills that I've acquired that takes lots of time/work/energy but isn't always appreciated by its recipients (most of whom have been kids). But it's so darn fun!

10 green thumbs (we hope)

2008-04-19T08:55:00.007-05:00

This week we finished a monumental project - a backyard garden. I have been bugging DH for several springs to help me put one in, and this year, he gave in. No really, we decided TOGETHER that it would be a good family project.

Daddy and the kids worked hard on digging out the grass for three 4' x 4' boxes and we all helped to build the boxes with landscaping timbers. Dad, being the carpenter at heart that he is, insisted on very square corners and level sides (Mom even leveled one of the boxes!), and as you can see, they look great! The boys were good workers. They did their jobs - carrying sod, digging Texas clay out of the boxes, hammering stakes, handing Dad tools/screws/rebar/lumber, squirting Liquid Nails - without (much) complaining, and handled themselves reasonably well in Home Depot while Mom shopped for seeds and plants. Even Miss Bee helped with the digging and also filled in the space around each box with soil when the boxes were finished. I am pretty proud of those kids.

We planted (and hopefully will harvest) watermelon, cantaloupe, butternut squash, tomatoes (cherry and Roma), rosemary, Italian parsley, basil, cilantro, sweet red peppers, green beans and sweet corn. Check back periodically to see if our thumbs are still green!

(I know one of the pictures is sideways; I'm still figuring out how to rotate it.)

contents of my head, vol. 3

2008-04-09T21:11:00.003-05:00

I just drove back from the pharmacy. Something horrible has happened. I was listening to the radio, and I heard Huey Lewis & the News' "Power of Love"...on the oldies station. I can't be that old.

april fool

2008-04-02T07:55:00.007-05:00

Yesterday, we had a little April Fool's Day celebration. Normally I don't really go to much trouble for holidays - even Christmas is a little low-key around here, compared to other Texas-sized celebrations. But this was too cute to resist. Yes, it involves food - however did you guess???

I know I have both sung praises to and cursed the name of Family Fun magazine; this is a praise. They have several ideas for April Fool's Day pranks each year, and this year we tried "Chicken Not-Pie." The recipe is here. Basically, it's a "pie" made with vanilla pudding and various candies cut or shaped to look like carrots, peas, bits of chicken, etc. Not hard at all to make, but sort of frustrating to have to buy a whole bag of a particular kind of candy just to use a few pieces. Buying from the bulk candy aisle is cheaper (money- and calorie-wise, since if you buy the whole bag of candy, *someone* has to eat all the pieces that don't go into the pie). This gave me an excuse to visit a vintage candy store in our city's historic downtown area, which has dozens of jars of all kinds of candy sold by the quarter pound. I used green apple Now & Laters for the peas, orange and lemon Starbursts for the carrots and corn, and Squirrel Nut Zippers for the chicken. And I only had to buy a few pieces! I made enough pies for the kids (the results were just too sickening-sweet for their parents' palates) and Flip was pretty much the only one who ate some, but this really didn't bother me. Maybe it was because I got to have my fun trying it out, and I wasn't out that much money. It was enough of a celebration for our family, and just like Christmas, the ratio of the time spent in preparation to the time the kids spent enjoying the results was typically out of proportion, but it wasn't the end of the world. What'll we tackle next April 1st? Maybe a larger-scale prank, food-involved or not! Thanks for reading!

sticks and . . . sticks

2008-03-25T18:51:00.007-05:00

What is the deal with kids - namely boys - and sticks?

The other day, I happened past Stuntman's room and caught this scene: my 10-year-old boy, with an armful of sticks (yes, in the house!), reaching under his bed for - amazingly - more sticks. He then proceeded to hand the sticks through his open window (which I noticed had been freed of its screen) to a friend standing outside in the flowerbeds. "Why," I asked as calmly as possible, "do you have sticks under your bed?" Well, he was only keeping them there because when the pile of sticks was outside, the kid down the street had taken some of the sticks and put them in his own pile, and apparently, this just cannot happen. I pondered the concept of "stick police" for a moment before telling him to return the sticks to the outdoors - through the door, please. He did, but since then, I have seen that pile of sticks in various neighbor kids' front yards. I guess they're saving them for something. Or maybe, by changing their storage place, any stick thieves' plans will be thwarted.

This morning, as I was returning from a run, I noticed another array of sticks littering the yard: one walking stick, made at cub scout camp two summers ago from a broom handle, a few more sticks from the traveling stick pile, and three rulers. Upon closer examination, I realized that the rulers used to be our yardstick, but due to some unfortunate accident, have been reduced to rulers, none of which even measures 12 inches. (They had to be disposed of.) What is this fascination with sticks? Is it a boy thing? Any ideas? Any other stick-hoarders (or parents of them) out there?

pianogal trivia (in response to a tag)

2008-03-12T20:50:00.003-05:00

10 Years Ago...

Had a 4-month-old (2-month adjusted age) preemie at home
Said preemie was attached to a heart rate/breathing monitor that sent me into panic mode whenever it beeped
Lived in a 2B/2BA apartment kitty-cornered from the site of multiple drive-by shootings

5 Things on my To-Do list today...

Volunteer library duty at boys' school
Easter party at Miss Bee's school
Guitar lesson
Get through homework time without whining (me or the kids)
Stake R.S. Auxiliary training meeting

Snacks I enjoy

Guacamole and tortilla chips
Bowl of cereal
Spoonful of PB dipped in chocolate chips
Almonds

Things I would do if I were suddenly a billionaire

Pay off house/student loans
Give husband money to start up a business (probably a bike shop)
College fund for kids
Donate to Make-A-Wish/St. Jude's/Pediatric Brain Tumor Foundation
Go on a cruise to Alaska

3 of my bad habits

Procrastination
Showing frustration a little too easily
Eating bowlfuls of guacamole with tortilla chips

Jobs I've had

Medical records help in family practice
Piano/flute teacher
Mystery shopper
Waitress
Office manager at chiropractor's office

5 Things people don't know about me

I once vowed never to use the word "y'all" but have found it sneaking into my vocabulary
I mentally edit everything I see for grammar and content (NERD!! you say)
I know *everything* (according to my 8-year-old)
I secretly dream of sitting around campfires and playing songs on my guitar (with people present)
I thought "MMMBop" was kind of catchy

more humble pie, please; thank you

2008-03-05T12:30:00.005-06:00

Okay, I just launched the previous tirade and had a "whoops" moment within an hour after clicking "publish." Yesterday, Flip and I miscommunicated about how he was supposed to get home. Both boys rode with a friend to school so I could be on time to a dentist appointment, and I thought they understood that I'd still pick them up. Well, Stuntman did. I got a call while waiting in the carpool line from the school office, asking if Flip was supposed to walk home with the aforementioned friend, because he seemed to think so. He was in a foul mood when I picked him up from carpool, thinking he'd missed out on playing with a friend. No big deal, but DH kindly reminded me that he is only 8, and I can't expect an 8-year-old to automatically understand everything I say. So, reader, I apologize for ranting about teachers not understanding their audiences, because I apparently am the proverbial pot calling the kettle black. Okay, I feel a little better.

Grrrrrr.....

contents of my head, vol. 2

2008-03-05T11:23:00.004-06:00

Something I just have to get off my chest...

So Stuntman brings home some homework the other day - his first foray into the world of research. It seems that the class is studying the Texas Revolution, and each kid is supposed to research a different battle. He brought home a booklet designed for helping the kids take notes: it asks several broad questions, and he's supposed to use at least 3 sources to find answers and then list them. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Okay, here's one of the questions:

"How would you articulate or explain the emotional mindset of the battle's participants?"

Are you kidding me?!?

Now I'll admit that abstract concepts are still on Stuntman's list of "things I don't quite get yet", and maybe there are fourth graders out there that would understand this question, but is there anything inherently wrong with asking, "How do you think the battle's participants felt?" I mostly have no complaints with the teachers at this school; they exceed expectations in many respects, but they seem to have forgotten they are speaking to 10-year-olds on this assignment. Things like this just make me want to growl.

Okay, I've vented. On with the show.

we got snow, yes we do...

2008-03-04T20:47:00.008-06:00

Today was North Texas' annual Day of Snow. For those of you who do not live in North Texas, the Day of Snow is the one day every year we seem to get a snowstorm. It blows in, dumps a couple of inches on us, blows away, and the snow is gone within a day or two. Some years there are 2 Days of Snow, but one is usually the average. Throughout winter, if there is even the slightest possibility of even a flake, all the local news stations' weather forecasters drop hints about it in teasers on TV, building us all up into a frenzy, until the anticipated day arrives, and it usually turns out to be another 50-degree day with "abundant sunshine".

But not today. The long-awaited storm blew in yesterday evening, snowed on us a good part of the night, and we awoke this morning to a good 2-3 inches covering everything (and a nice 5:52 A.M. phone call from the school district's automated info line, saying that school start times would be delayed for 2 hours). Everyone slept in, ate caramel rolls left over from Daddy's early morning seminary class and Pop-Tarts, then bundled up in coats and extra socks and piled outside. I took the camera out and got plenty of snow angels, snowball targets, snow taste tests and assorted white-blanketed items on digital film. Everyone's hands and feet seemed to reach their saturation point at the same time (one snow day a year is not enough to invest in snow boots or snow gloves for anyone), so after a good hike through all yards that did not yet have footprints in them, we all clamored back inside. Somehow we managed to find extra pairs of shoes and socks for everyone, got the boys off to school, and resumed our day - with the 2-hour delay.

True to its name, the Day of Snow did not take long to wear off - snow began melting as soon as the sun surpassed the rooftops, leaving white patches in the shade, lumpy plops falling from trees, and grassy, sagging snowmen in front yards. This did not, however, stop Miss Bee from picking up icy handfuls from every leftover patch we saw throughout the day and tasting each one. (I drew the line at samples from the sidewalk.) It is wistfully, gloriously over, and it is the perfect amount of snow for this Arizona-born girl: no shoveling, no yearly purchase to replace outgrown snow gear, and all gone in a day. That's about all I can handle.

the catch

2008-02-28T21:15:00.003-06:00

Something that will stick with me....

Today I made a phone call that I thought would "help" someone. A family in a neighboring ward, who lived a block away from us for a time and were one of the first families we met when we moved here, found out last year that their youngest son has an inoperable brain tumor. The past year has been full of ups and downs, sorrows and miracles, as this family has watched their little boy's condition both deteriorate and improve, both by great strides and by the narrowest of margins. The past few weeks have been especially hard, as it seemed that the end may have been near, only to have his symptoms decrease as he entered yet one more period of limbo, his family watching and waiting for whatever will happen next. Throughout this time, we (DH and I) struggle with the desire to help in some way, but are at a loss - we are no longer in the same ward, we don't have as close of contact with the family, none of our abilities seem to be in the realm of what would be useful to them, etc.

This boy's older sister is one of my piano students, and a very enjoyable one at that. I love her personality; it is as unique as her bright red hair is in a sea of blond- and brown-haired kids. She has been a no-show for her last few lessons - understandably, as her family life must adjust constantly to each change in her brother's condition. I decided to call her mother today to let her know that taking a break from piano for awhile would be fine, that she wouldn't have to worry (as if piano lessons were the utmost of her concerns right now) and that she could call whenever she wanted to start up again. In just this smallest of offerings, I thought this would be one way I could "help". I had my words all carefully chosen before I called, and dialed dutifully, only to be greeted with a harried "hello?" on the other end from my student's mother. My composure fell away as I stumbled out some words which I hoped conveyed what I was calling about in a compassionate way, something about "if you want to take a break for awhile, that's okay with me". What I heard next was a brisk, short compliance, obviously in response to ill timing of a phone call, but the part that stood out was the catch in her voice as she said, "Yes, that's fine. Bye." That catch is a sound I cannot get out of my head tonight and probably never will.

http://www.caringbridge.org//visit/peterbarr

mission accomplished!

2008-02-24T21:09:00.004-06:00

I am writing this entry seated at the table instead of at my usual computer "work station" (standing at the kitchen counter). There is a good reason for this: my knees don't work anymore. Okay, that's in need of rephrasing - my knees work better today than they did yesterday, which was when they didn't work anymore. But the 13.1 miles are run! I successfully crossed the finish line 2 hours, 18 minutes and 57 seconds after I started. Hooray! It was tough - cold, lots of hills, sore knee - but totally worth it. There are a few sights my eyes have witnessed during my whole life that rank highly in my book. Here are some of them: my husband's face when we first kissed as a married couple, each of my kids' faces the first time I held them in my arms, several canyons, Arizona sunsets, snowy mountains and autumn-adorned trees, and the finish line at that race yesterday. DH had told me he wasn't going to be able to come to the race (it was an hour away from home), which I understood. But I secretly hoped he was planning to surprise me, though. Anyway, as I rounded the last corner and the finish line came into view, I was so happy I thought I would cry. And then, from the sidelines, came, "Go, honey! You can do it! Go, Mom! Go!" and I did cry. My line-crossing photo should look interesting.

But it's over! I would like to thank the following: DH and kids, for showing up in the cold; Lisa, my running buddy who stuck with me the entire race; the rest of my running buddies, for getting up early to run with me; the nameless volunteer who gave my family and me a ride to our parking garage after the race (and drove us around for 15 minutes so DH could remember which one he parked in); Jelly Belly Sport Beans, for giving me a much-needed boost at mile 8; and whatever factory made my bed mattress, because that is where I stayed for the rest of the day after I got home. So what is number 1329 out of 2378 total finishers going to do next? Go to bed. Good night.

the countdown continues...

2008-02-22T14:53:00.002-06:00

According to www.cowtownmarathon.org, there are 9 hours, 1 minute, and 48 seconds to go until the Cowtown Marathon/Half-Marathon! From our group there will be 3 of us doing the half and 2 of us doing the full. We are all going out tonight (minus Jenny, a marathoner) with our husbands to carb-load on pasta at Olive Garden, and then home to sleep so we can meet at farggin' 5 o'clock in the A.M to drive to Ft. Worth. Race start time is 7:30. Say a little prayer for us (and our poor legs) tomorrow! See you on the other side!

chefs for a day

2008-02-19T20:20:00.004-06:00

Stuntman got a kids' cookbook for Christmas and has tried a couple of recipes. Last night, he asked if he and Dad could make dinner. Dad and the boys cooked while Mom and Miss Bee went outside for a bike ride (twice around the block). They made beef stew, which is one of the recipes we've made before, and it is SO GOOD that I have to share it. It has to cook for a long time, but believe me, it makes the biggest difference. It cooks down quite a bit, too, so if you think you'll want seconds - and you will - you'll want to double or even triple it, depending on how big your family is. One batch of it gave each of us 1 serving and left us wanting more.

BEEF STEW
(serves 4)

1 T. flour
Salt and pepper
1 1/2 lbs. beef stew meat, cubed
2 small or 1 big onion, chopped (looks like a lot, but it's okay)
3 slices of bacon, chopped
2 T. vegetable oil (divided)
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 3/4 c. beef stock (we made it with Better Than Bouillon and water)
1 T. tomato paste (we've found ketchup works just fine)
1 clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press
2-3 strips of orange peel
1 large pinch Italian seasoning
2 T. parsley, chopped

Dredge beef cubes in flour, salt and pepper. Heat 1 T. of the oil in a large pot (3 qt. or larger) and cook the carrots and onions for a few minutes. Remove with a slotted spoon. Heat the remaining T. of oil in the pot, then add the beef and bacon, cooking until it is lightly browned all over. Return vegetables to the pot. Add tomato paste (or ketchup), garlic, herbs and orange peel and stir. Add the stock and stir again. Cover and cook on low heat for about 2 hours (yes, a long time to wait for such tasty stuff, but your patience will be rewarded) or until the meat is tender. Sprinkle with chopped parsley. Serve with baked or mashed potatoes and a salad or vegetable, and your tummies will thank you.

I think you might also be able to try this in the crock pot - just cook the veggies, brown the meat, then put them in a crock pot with the rest of the ingredients. I'll have to try it sometime. Let me know what you think!

countdown to cowtown

2008-02-18T18:23:00.002-06:00

The Cowtown Half/Full Marathon is this Saturday, and this girl is running the half. This girl (I don't feel too old to use that word) hated P.E. K-12, put off her P.E. credit in high school until her senior year, never did sports or anything remotely athletic (unless you count marching band) in her life, and she is running a half marathon on Saturday. Sounds a bit dotty, doesn't it? Well, I'll know exactly how dotty when I scrape myself over the finish line in 5 days.

I started running with some friends back in April, purely for social reasons. One might say I'm doing this race for the same reasons, since I've acquired pains in places I've never felt pain before - I couldn't be doing it because I enjoy it, could I? Well...there is something to be said for being outside, hot or cold, sunny or foggy (no, we're not the kind that run in the rain), having some "mommy" time. It's a good feeling when you're out there and you pass another runner who gives you a "good morning" or a "hi" as you lope by, and even if you're only on mile 4 of an 8-mile run and you've just begun the ascent of that confounded hill you hit on your loop every dang Saturday, that little greeting can give you enough of a feeling of belonging to a group - the group that gets up early to run - to push through the rest of your run. Or at least the next half-mile, until another one "good-morning"s you.

So we'll see how it goes! Five days to go!

play, magic fingers!

2008-01-31T19:55:00.002-06:00

Today I had my first guitar lesson! DH got me a guitar for Christmas and I'm swapping lessons with a neighbor down the street - piano for guitar. Works out great, since all the guitar teachers I checked out in our area charge upwards of $90/month. Yikes! But no worries for me! My new student is a sixth-grader who has had a little piano experience, but I'm still starting her from the beginning. Her dad is teaching me guitar.

Starting a new student is so much fun. It's just so exciting to watch as someone learns the basics - hand position, how to listen and what to listen for, the names of the notes, etc. There is so much ahead for her; so many possibilities of what she'll be able to do with the skills she'll learn. (As long as she practices!) On the other hand, I find myself getting impatient for new kids to learn those basics so we can move on to the application stage, where we can take those basics and talk about everything you can do with them. That's where the magic happens; that's when their little brains get to be creative and they turn into composers.

As for me and the guitar, we aren't friends quite yet - my teacher showed me how to play 2 chords and a scale, and my fingers are very sore. According to him, "all" it will take to overcome the soreness is 30 min. of practice a day for a week. Okay, so that's the same that I require of my students, and I shouldn't complain, but pianos don't HURT. I shall persevere, however - 30 min. of 4-2-1 strumming, C scales using all 6 strings, and D-A7 chords will fly from my fingers all week, because I want to play the guitar that badly. I'm excited to be learning.

snippets

2008-01-29T12:46:00.003-06:00

Well, here I thought we had escaped the self-administered-haircut trial so many parents of toddlers seem to have stories about, and it turns out we didn't. Miss Bee and I were doing some crafts together yesterday and she disappeared under the table when it was over, playing with some leftover craft-foam shapes (or so I thought). She reappeared, announcing, "I cut my hair!" and sure enough, there, along with several foam fairies, plastic jewels and a small pile of glitter, was the Bee-sized handful of hair on the floor under the table to prove it. Although it could have been a lot worse, it's still upsetting, and wouldn't even be quite so much that if she hadn't done the same thing last week. (I already paid someone to fix her last "style;" I've already decided to just wait this one out.) Needless to say, all scissors have been whisked away to a high shelf, and Miss Bee had to be content today with gluing construction paper scraps that Mommy cut out for her, as opposed to her own cutouts. Stay tuned - the next time you see our girl, she might show up with a pixie cut...hopefully, not entirely of her own doing.

a quick note on empathy

2008-01-13T21:03:00.001-06:00

My husband is a triathlete. Yep, he does it all - swims, bikes, runs. And trains for it, too. This means many evenings and Saturday afternoons alone while he is out putting another notch on his training schedule. I'm happy he's doing something that makes him happy. But sometimes I find myself pouting all the same.

Even if I do complain, though, there is one perk - empathy. Let me explain. To be as speedy as possible in the water, he shaves his legs. To be as speedy (and comfortable) as possible on the bike, he wears bib bike shorts - bike shorts with sort of suspender-strap things attached to them that cut down on waistline slippage (see above - no, that's not my husband). How many women can say that their husbands know the woes of both razor rash on your thighs AND having to use the bathroom while wearing a one-piece bathing suit? Enough said.

the pink plate

2008-01-11T18:15:00.001-06:00

In the cupboard where we keep the unbreakable dinnerware for the kids, there is a set of plastic plates in a dazzling array of colors: red, blue, yellow, lime green, turquoise blue, and pink. We've had most of these plates since the two boys were little; when we finally had a girl, I'll admit that I tripped off to Wal-mart and lovingly purchased one pink plate, stereotypes aside.

This, along with several girly outfits and dolls, was just okay with our Miss Bee for awhile. Sometime between then and now, she has come to the conclusion that she will someday be a boy. I can no longer depend on her to wear whatever outfits I pick out for her at the store (she would rather raid her brothers' dresser drawers), I apparently can't make any reference to her being a girl at ALL ("Mom, I'm going to be a boy, and don't say I'm a girl!") and she refuses to eat off the pink plate. (Although she begs me to paint her toenails, so figure that one out.) When Grandma called and asked for suggestions for Christmas presents last month, I put dress-up clothes and a tea set on the list, only because I had seen her play with these things at a friend's house. We called Grandma and Grandpa on Christmas morning to thank them for their gifts to the family, and when Grandma asked Miss Bee if she liked the Cinderella dress she gave her, she said, in a plaintive little voice, "No." (I think I gasped.) I don't think this is a gender confusion issue; I think it's just little kid logic at work - she has 2 older brothers who obviously grew up to be boys, so why shouldn't every kid in our family?

I'm okay with this for the most part. I realize not every girl is a girly girl. Of course she is free to be whatever kind of girl she's going to be. However, I guess (like any other situation where expectations are not met with assumed results) I am still a little bit sad. The pink plate has sort of come to represent that things are not the way I thought they would be. Miss Bee is no less lovable than she'd be if she was a pink-plate girl, though, so I can be okay with that.

But the other day, Daddy took the boys out for some father-son time and Miss Bee and I were left all alone for a few hours. She wanted to have a tea party (really?), so we went to the grocery store and picked out a fancy, baby-sized cake with a silver ribbon on top and brought it home, amid much ceremony. We spread Mom's lace tablecloth on the coffee table and laid out our spread: orange juice (in the little pink teapot), flower- and star-shaped tortillas sprinkled with sugar (from the little blue sugar bowl), and our purple-polka-dotted cake from the bakery. Halfway through the party, Miss Bee exclaimed, "I forgot my princess dress!" The party stopped while she changed into her frock, and resumed immediately after. What other word could I use for such an occasion other than glorious - just lovely. After it was over, the Cinderella dress came off, Mom cleaned up the mess (there was a leak in the creamer, we found out), and the guys came home.

This little event hasn't really changed anything - Miss Bee appeared this morning in a pair of red flowered pants and Flip's gray pullover shirt - but it was a most pleasant time; just me and my girl, and it's okay if the princess dress stays in the closet for awhile. I love just being with her.

But maybe I'll put the pink plate on the table for dinner tonight and see what happens.

a party in my tummy

2008-01-01T22:21:00.001-06:00

Tonight, we went out (with the kids, even) to a "nice" restaurant - "nice" being defined as "no one can wear their sweatpants here". We went to Texas de Brazil, which is a churrascaria (dh, a returned missionary from Brazil, says something like "shoo-hoss-ca-DEE-a"), which is delicious. I will now describe the experience - vegetarians, you will not be that interested, so stop after the salad bar.

Upon being seated, you tell the waiter what you want to drink, and then you are released to the salad bar, which beats the pants off any other salad bar you will ever walk around with a plate - aside from the usual salad greens, you can choose from soup, marinated vegetables, imported cheeses, sushi (which you would never find in a Brazilian churrascaria, dh was careful to point out), hunks (not slices) of smoked salmon, potatoes au gratin (also not Brazilian, but yum!), olives, breads, and many other delights I did not have room on my plate or in my stomach to sample. After you are finished with your salad bar findings, you signal to your waiter to bring you a clean plate. Each place at the table has a small round token, green on one side and red on the other. You flip this to green, and immediately thereafter, men with huge skewers of grilled meat will flock to your table and slice off small chunks of it right in front of you, which you grab with your very own set of tongs and put on your plate. Different cuts and varieties of beef, pork, sausage, chicken (wrapped in bacon), filet mignon (!) - shazam; right on your plate. When you want them to stop, you flip your token to red, then back to green; etc., etc.

What a feast! I think the kids enjoyed it, for the most part. Stuntman, who is truly a little carnivore, was quite speechless: guys coming at him from all sides, one at a time, like bad guys in a Jackie Chan movie, and each one bringing meat - meat! On a giant SWORD! I think he was even a little overwhelmed - at one point he put his head in his hands and looked like he might need a little air (it was rather noisy and very busy; easy for a little system to get overloaded). Flip, a picky eater, did try everything on his plate and found several things to his liking. Miss Bee did surprisingly well for a 3 1/2-year-old who doesn't like wearing "nice" clothes, waiting for tables OR very many kinds of meat. (Her dinner: carrots with a bit of greens still on the end, bread, sausage, baby corn on the cob, bread, bacon from the salad bar, cinnamon fried bananas, cheese, and bread. We're okay with that for one night.)

Needless to say, this is a once-a-year (or even every couple of years) kind of an experience for our family, because of the gastric overload and because of the pricey bill, but the only reason we went was because Mom was scouring the internet for any kind of a coupon to this place for dh's Christmas present, came up with nothing but did sign up on the restaurant's website for emailed offers, and received one a couple of weeks ago for 50% off your bill Jan. 1-3. Not a bad deal! And now, dh can start on his New Year's resolution to lose 15 lbs. in preparation for the Cowtown Marathon (which I am planning to run also, but only the half marathon, so I don't have to lose so much) and Redman Triathlon in Oklahoma City this year. For a "last meal" (as he put it), it was worth every calorie.

contents of my head, vol. 1

2007-12-05T19:04:00.000-06:00

I love spelling. I love figuring out how to spell stuff I hear. There is a commentator on NPR whose name I love to conjure spellings for. Here are all the possible spellings I have come up with, based solely upon the way he says his name at the end of all his news reports:

a) Marco Orman
b) Marco Werman
c) Marco Erman
d) Marc Oerman

I know I could just go to the NPR website and find the correct spelling in a matter of minutes, but - and I know this sounds weird - I don't want to. This purposeless but personal occupation has lasted for months, and to end it would take the fun out of it. So I don't want any responses to this posting that ruin my fun! I'll look it up when I'm dang good and ready!

(I know; I'm a nerd.)

naughty/nice

2007-11-20T12:25:00.001-06:00

We took the kids to see "Fred Claus" last night. It earned the title of "My Least Favorite Christmas Movie Ever". I never do expect much in the way of plot, acting or dialogue in the usual seasonal offerings, but this really disappointed. To me, there was no charm, not enough humor (or maybe just too little of my kind of humor) and a few too many adult themes for a movie I would take my kids to.

But that's not my point. There was a message, buried under all of Vince Vaughn's showing-off and slapstick scenes. In the movie, a parentless boy, spending the holiday in an orphanage after CPS finds out he lives with no legal adult guardian, gets into a fight with some other orphans after saying there's no such thing as Santa. He's a good kid in unfortunate circumstances, understandably losing faith in Santa after being disappointed by life many times. The message was this: there really aren't any naughty kids, and every kid deserves one toy at Christmas.

The reason this struck me was because of a boy in our neighborhood - I'll call him "Joe" - who has been labeled a "bad" kid. Joe is only in the second grade, but has done/said some things to the other neighborhood kids that have not helped his reputation much. From what I've heard the kids say, his behavior to them has sometimes indeed been very inappropriate (swearing, hitting, general meanness), but apparently is capable of good - in certain situations. (After attending his birthday party at Peter Piper Pizza a few weeks ago, where all the parents were invited to stay, my son's comment was, "You know, Joe's a pretty good kid when there's adults around.") True, he has said things that have shocked me - he once described a movie to me that he watched at his grandma's which sounded frighteningly similar to something with Hannibal Lecter in it - but I think he may be somewhat of a victim of his circumstances. I heard him say once that his dad is his stepdad, and that his mom used to be married to "a bad dad" but now he has a "good dad." He also has no brothers or sisters, so he may have missed out on some of those opportunities to learn how to get along with other kids that come with being a sibling. As you can tell, I kind of feel sorry for the guy. Half the neighborhood kids either aren't allowed to play with him or else he's not allowed in their yards. From what I gather, he wants to play with them, but because of his lack of social skills, their play easily erupts into fights. The others, because of his past behavior, almost expect it from him, and any indication that it's coming turns them hostile to his advances, and pretty soon meanness is coming from both sides.

Now, is Joe naughty? Yes, he does ultimately have the choice between good or bad behavior, and is old enough to take responsibility for those choices, but if he really doesn't know any better, or if his situation at home is such that he has had few chances to learn kindness, does he deserve that label? Is he nice? That's debatable as well. He seems to be trying to be good, but if all his attempts are met with unkindness as a retort, it will only be harder for him.

My kids are involved in this, and although I know they're not entirely without blame, I can tell that they aren't the main provokers of Joe's wrath. I have a hard time because I try to encourage them to set examples - for Joe and for the other kids - but at the same time, if he's really being a bully, they have the right to refuse to play with him, and they should avoid him.
So what's the right answer?

Are there really any naughty kids? What do you think?

family fun/mom insanity

2007-11-12T09:11:00.001-06:00

Many of you may be familiar with Family Fun magazine, a periodical whose monthly issues are crammed with seasonal project ideas, recipes, birthday party/cake ideas, vacation spot ads, articles on parenting - all aimed at mommies (and daddies, I suppose) who must spend every waking minute of their days wondering, “How will I have fun with my family today???” Okay, that sounded mean. I actually like reading this magazine (I even like having fun with my family), and it does have many useful ideas. It’s just that some of them turn into bigger projects than their illustrations purport them to be.

Case in point: Stuntman, my oldest, had a birthday last week, and so of course he wanted the celebratory cupcakes brought to share with his class at lunchtime. Mom, feeling creative, went immediately to the Family Fun website for cupcake ideas, and that fine young man chose the “Cyber-Sweet” cupcake – one which, with the clever use of some chocolate-covered graham crackers and white frosting, looked like a cupcake with a miniature laptop perched on top. “Cyber-CUTE!” said Mom (okay, not really), and bought all the necessaries. On the special day, the cakes were already baked and just needed to be decorated – before 1:30. Ready, set, go: shower, take Stuntman and Flip to school, make frosting, dot a bunch of chocolate grahams with a flurry of computer keys, go back to store for more chocolate grahams and powdered sugar for more frosting, turn a bunch more grahams into computer monitors (get a cramp in hand), frost cupcakes, throw “laptops” onto cupcakes, throw 3-yr-old Miss Bee into the car at 1:28, drive to school, lumber into the cafeteria just in time for the last 10 minutes of lunch, and watch all 20 masterpieces get devoured in about 30 seconds.

So now you can ask the question: Why put yourself through all that when your efforts go initially unappreciated (I believe Stuntman’s first words when I finally got to the school were “it’s about time!” – the “thank-you’s” did come later) and then go down a crowd of 4th graders’ gullets?

Insert sweet violin/piano music here: It’s all for my children.

No it isn’t; it’s for ME. Okay, part of it’s for the kids, but a large part is due to my project-finding radar, which, when it detects a challenge involving baking, sewing or writing, triggers an irresistible desire to try out and complete the project, whether or not it looks like the picture in the magazine/on the internet/in the book (as you can see). Could I just do what all the other moms do and bring cupcakes from the grocery store bakery with an inch of frosting on top? Well, sure, but where's the fun? I don't get to help. Do the kids really care where the cake comes from? Probably not, but I do have this secret fantasy that my children will, 20 or so years from now, tell their own kids about how their mom brought computer cupcakes to school for their birthdays. Even if they don't, that's okay with me - Wal-mart may have chocolate cupcakes, also baked from a mix, but they'll never have anything remotely "cyber-sweet."

first day of the rest of my blog

2007-10-27T14:18:00.000-05:00

Today, on this inaugural day of my blog, I will explain the story behind its title. When I was a little kid, I remember finding a small, flat wooden circle on the lamp table in our family room with "Round Tuit" printed on it. When I asked Mom what it was, she said it was an end to procrastination. Get it? We're always saying, "I'll do that when I get around to it," or "I haven't gotten around to it yet." I've needed a place to write/vent/rejoice for awhile, but never got around...you know what I mean. Now I have no excuse!