something right

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

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.

music man

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.

thank-you notes

(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

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/

just did it

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?

happy birthday to bee

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.

ice day

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.

girl talk

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.

keep smiling

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

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.

a-HA!

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.)

april fool

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

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?

contents of my head, vol. 2

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.

snippets

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.

the pink plate

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

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.

family fun/mom insanity

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."