Halloweenies

here are my two halloweenies. i think they are a goblin and a ghoul. or actually, a skeleton and a scary motorcycle guy.



i am scared:



we meet up with our friends, the french fry and the hotdog. and the ultimate longhorn fan. and a couple of darth vaders:



is this not the cutest hamburger you've ever seen?



there was girls there too:



all the ghoulies are on the left end. the boys were all chasing and tackling each other before this picture was taken. the girls were sitting quietly eating pizza. after this picture, all hell broke loose:



pretty pink girls:



our bud jack and the team mascot, mickey:



oh, life is hard for the dads, driving around in a golf cart with the trick-or-treaters (i couldn't get my flash to work so just imagine four very happy men):



i thought wendy was supposed to be something from a dr. seuss book. turns out she was marie antoinette. same thing:



matthew and i pooped out early on our friend melissa's sofa. and we waited and waited and waited for the dads and boys to come back. and we waited some more. finally we called. a big sweaty mass of boys came in 20 minutes later dying for water and dripping with sweat. masses of candy. yawns all around. goodnight, october.

define your O

matthew's first-grade teacher lets them type out their spelling homework on the computer, which he loves. i mean, the kid thinks he doesn't get enough homework. (just wait til fourth grade, dude. you'll be hating life.)

they have to use each spelling word in a sentence, and underline it. we were practicing this morning for the test, and i called out the word October. he started, o-c-t-

i said, yes, but what kind of o?

he said, oh yeah! shift o!

yes, not capitol o. it's shift o, people. and don't you forget it.

when worlds collide, it's oddly silent

all of my worlds collided this week. do you remember when i told you about how i volunteer for everything? and not in a "pick me! pick me!" way, more of a "well, if no one else is gonna do it...." kind of way. and the loud crash you may have heard? worlds colliding. everything due at once.

baseball ended. and being the team mom, i had to order trophies, collect money (again), get coach gift cards, book a restaurant for the team party, order a cake. make sure it all came together at the last minute. and you know, matthew is not what you'd call a baseball lover. it's more like, WHAT? i have baseball again today?? so really, adios and farewell amigos. goodbye to all that. see you again in the spring.

then, there's the scouts. i'm the fundraising chair again because it's just too hard a battle to try to find (beg, plead with) someone else to take the job. so how did i forget to pass the fundraisers out in september? i need to make better notes this year. oh yes, well we did have a little hurricane here about that time but i'm told that ike can no longer be used as an excuse for anything. that excuse has expired. that's what the PTO president told us. she is mad, but we'll get to her in a minute.

so my rush to get 80-something packets labeled, priced and passed out evidently woke several scout leaders from their hurricane coma, because nothing was in place. what boys went with what leaders? who are these new people? from where do they come? and don't forget, we have a fighting den. there is one woman who stirs up so much trouble - i say she is never happy, she does not want to be happy, she just operates at different levels of pissed-offedness. no one knows how to appease her. yesterday i suggested to the other leaders that we throw her from a moving car. and let me tell you, i got no complaints.

and so that leaves me with my PTO job. what i was told was an easy job. and now, again, i see that they lied to me. with smiles on their faces, even. because i now have everyone, from the principal to the faculty to some volunteers asking me, who's doing this, who's doing that, where's this, where's that. i do not answer my phone anymore. it is either some pesky politician recording, or it is the school. and i am working on it, people.

but here's something interesting about worlds colliding: it's oddly silent. that is because i am busy working, or, let's be honest, busy procrastinating. i get so much other side stuff done while the main course is sitting over there mocking me. i have gone through all my sons' pants. i have replenished their wardrobes this week. i early-voted. i have made a christmas spreadsheet (on a legal pad, because that is how i roll). i have walked the dog every single day. i have caught up on my phone calls. and last night, i went through every single email and my mailbox is empty. oh, and i got a massage.

so now, there is nothing left to do but IT. the pile of papers from the school. it's various mini-projects in cascading piles. it's many, many yellow sticky notes. and truly, it probably could have been done ten times by now if i'd just sat down and done it. that is what i always tell my kids. in the time you spend complaining about it, you could have done it 10 times.

ok, so now i'm going to go do it. really. just as soon as i finish this blog post. and get myself a diet coke.

it must be nice

have you ever in your life been this relaxed? because i can't really recall a time of being so blatantly asleep. almost like, dont'cha wish you were me?



i mean, there was actually drool on her pillow when she finally got up. perhaps the queen would like a blanket?

and this is in direct contrast to another half of our household. last night the power blinked off, just enough to make the alarm system beep several times. in the dead of night. my husband asked why the clocks were blinking when he woke up...you're kidding, right?

i was also awoken by a small voice in my face at some obsene hour (not sure what as the clock was blinking) telling me of a bad dream. i did what any good mommy would do: i sent him back upstairs to sleep with his brother.

well, big brother did NOT appreciate this one bit this morning.

mom, he said. i woke up AGAIN to a head full of hair IN MY FACE. it took me two hours to go back to sleep.

whoops.

so it seems to me the only ones getting a solid snooze are the dad and the dog. it must be nice.

things that matter most: not always what you think

last week my first grader had homework on fire safety. he had to count how many fire alarms we had in the house, and list two possible exits from his room. one of the exits, as his brother pointed out, was his window.

matthew, he said, if you need to get out your window, just take your cd player and smash the glass and the firemen will come rescue you.

i saw the alarmed look on matthew's face and reassured him that, of course, he had nothing to worry about because one of us would surely come to save him. tears started to pour and i tried to reassure him that it was something he'd probably never in a million years have to worry about.

it's not that, he said. i love my cd player so much. i could never find another one that good.

we tried not to laugh. we tried.

I LOVE THAT CD PLAYER, he cried. i am so sad to think about that!

and once again i am humbled to realize that i do not really know what holds pride of place in someone else's heart. and who am i to laugh at that. (but come on. it is pretty funny.)

my day saturday

after bribing and begging and pleading with my kids last night to please, for the love of all that is holy, let their mom and dad sleep late today (late being relative; i would be happy with 8:30 a.m.), they did. i mean, i did wake up to the sounds of fighting and arguing, but it was 8:30 so they kept their end of the deal. and then i got to go see a movie with my mom. alone, no kids, no begging for popcorn. and then i came home and made the mistake of asking these children if they'd like to help wash the cars.

the mistake was in the asking before i was ready to squirt the hose. i meant, later. i wanted to relax first. i wanted to lay down and luxuriate in the fact that we had nowhere to be (baseball season is over!); i wanted to eat cookies; i wanted to read my magazine. so when i closed my eyes, i heard a voice roughly every 4.2 minutes saying, is it time to wash the car? when are we gonna wash the car?

and i truly am happy my youngest wants to do this. i mean, don't get me wrong, he did keep asking if he would be paid for it (no) or if he'd earn stars for it (no). i think there are some things kids need to just do for the sake of doing it. these kids are going to wash cars, mow lawns, learn to change the oil in a car, fix things. girls like it when guys know how to fix things for free, and i'm a girl and i live here in this frat house and i fully intend to get my money's worth.

washing the cars was only complicated a slight bit by the fact that ben's arm is in a cast and can not get wet. and we had to keep reminding matthew, the hose wielder, of this fact. but they scrubbed the inside of both cars, and i vacuumed. then we soaped up the outsides. and now we have two clean, shiny cars and lots and lots of dirty towels.

these pictures were taken before the carwash, after the movie, and before i attempted to nap. matthew got to hold the camera which explains why the first five pictures were blurry. and in this one, i thought that ben was smiling next to me until i saw this:



so we had a do-over. this is my sweet, sweet child who actually said these words to me this week when i was quite miffed at someone: "stop thinking about (person) being bad and start thinking about (person) being good. you never know when a miracle can happen." and i sat there with my mouth open, amazed at the depth of goodness in his heart. out of the mouths of babes...

can you take it? more SNL, with my life sprinkled in

i don't know if it's because tensions are running high all around or what, but i just can't get enough tina fey. and NEVER enough of will ferrell. don't we all need a laugh right about now?

so again i will piggyback off someone else's good humor. click below (the round circle in the middle, for you mavericks) if you feel like laughing. it's will ferrell as w, trying to give a squirmy mccain his unwanted endorsement: (i have deleted this video as it took too long to load on some people's computers. sorry.)

okay, i will try to add some of my own world now.

this morning on the walk to school, i noticed as my kids were crossing the street that the arms of matthew's gray jacket were hanging down to his knees, with his hands nowhere in sight. i wondered, how did he manage that? then i slowly realized, he grabbed my identical jacket by mistake. my size medium, adult jacket, instead of his size 6 kids jacket. how did he not notice that this thing had multiplied in size? why did he not wonder why his hands did not ever come out the other end? he did not question. he just put on the jacket and started walking. it was both hilarious and mind-boggling at the same time.

in other breaking news, my dog is grounded. she has lost her privilege of going out into the backyard unless someone stands guard - which no one will. she lost her rights when she spent two trips out in one day, no less, knee deep in mud. she knows how i feel about mud. the neighbors know how i feel about mud. because i am sure they can all hear me cursing the dog out when i open the door. and as in all cases of grounding, the one who suffers the most is me, the one who administers the punishment. because it is now my pain in the butt to either walk her, or stand guard. both of which require time and effort.

moving on, my youngest son told me that he voted in the school election. he said, i voted for obama. i asked him, who is that other guy who is running? because i just never get tired of hearing his response.

he said, mccain, he's the old guy who is losing his hair. he doesn't have enough hair to be president. in matthew's world, if you're out of hair, your time is just about up.

all the kids are voting in the school election. they can vote democrat, republican, or libertarian. the other day i was at school when the kindergartners were voting and one of them said, oh look, there's a librarian running for president!

i love little kids.

and today i was in the hallway waiting for matthew to come out for recess so i could hand him his proper size jacket. his friend hunter saw me in the hall.

do you work here? he asked. no.

are you a teacher? he asked. no.

then, trying to find a polite way to ask, finally said, then why are you always here?

because i love little kids. and anything right now that can make me laugh.

my bubble boys

well, i was going to do a post today about another fleeting brush with fame that i had, complete with pictures and storylines but i will hold that for another slow day.

and instead i will tell you about how the doctors in ER know my younger son by name, and the orthopedic surgeon knows my older one. and how even if you're a helicopter mom like me, meaning you practically hover to ensure their safety, eventually you run out of gas and they fly alone.

last year about this time, we were at a neighbor's lakehouse for a big shindig. there was all kinds of fun being had, until i saw my ben whizzing by on the back of a jetski. it whizzed by so fast, i didn't know it was him.

did you see that kid? i said to my friend. he was on there backwards.

that was ben, she said.

WHAT?

so by the time the jetski came back and i had stopped hyperventilating, ben emerged looking somewhat shaken and stirred. he said his arm hurt. i thought nothing of it because whose arm wouldn't hurt if you're backwards on a water motorcycle. but then he couldn't bend it. however, the fact that he wasn't crying was a big mystery. this is a boy who will scream bloody murder over a splinter. but a broken arm? not so much. and yes, it was broken. and yes, he missed the last few games of that baseball season in which his team went on to win the division championship. that, my friends, hurt. possibly more than the broken arm.

and so now, last week, my son comes home from school telling me his wrist hurts, because he was playing football at recess and some big kid landed on it. again, i think nothing of it because (a) he is not crying, (b) he is not writhing on the floor, and (c) the school nurse just sent him back to class. so he goes camping over the weekend, comes home and we think perhaps we should take him in. just in case. because it possibly could be sprained.

and guess what? it is broken. and he picked red for his cast, because he did blue last time. and he let his brother be the first to sign it.



and his little brother thinks the cast is so cool, and wonders, on the remote chance that he were to get a cast, what other colors do they have? and i explain, casts are really not that cool because it means you have to break a bone to get one. and that could hurt. so let's just admire ben's, shall we?

because the little one, we wore out our welcome at the ER long ago. there was the time he fell down the spiral staircase. the halloween that he had an allergic reaction to ants and we thought he just hated his hot costume. the time he said his stomach hurt bad and when i called his doc to see what i should do, the words that came out of his mouth ("take him to the emergency room, i can be ready for surgery immediately"), they are words you do not say to a mother. turned out he was just stopped up, as they say.

so, we are done. we have done our part to support the medical community. my sons will now be wrapped in plastic bubbles when they leave the house. but they will be invisible bubbles, made up of a mother's love and prayers.

a sign of excess

how to tell when your 6-year-old's birthday/christmas wish list is getting a little too excessive:

boy, with pencil and wish list in hand: "mom, how do you spell fifty-dollar giftcards?"

the real sarah palin rocks out

on saturday night live, where else. and i haven't laughed this hard in a long time.

1. click on the link under #3 below
2. click on the second video
3. and i dare you not to laugh when she shoots the "mutha humpin" dancing moose.

http://perezhilton.com/2008-10-19-sarah-palin-does-saturday-night-live

tina fey, 30 rock and SNL: my story

i knew tina fey was golden back when she first started doing "weekend update" on saturday night live. because i never thought that segment was funny. ever. and suddenly, with her and amy poehler, it was the best part of the show.

and now she is even more golden with her sarah palin riff. and rumor has it that sarah palin herself will be on the show tonight. well, that's ok...i'd rather just watch tina as sarah.

i have watched SNL off and on for as long as i've been allowed to stay up late. we're talking back in the jane curtin/chevy chase days. sometimes it's been great, sometimes it has sucked eggs, and lots of times it's just been unbelievably idiotic. but it's as american as apple pie and baseball, as far as i'm concerned. which explains why i absolutely, positively had to see the show one saturday night many moons ago, when i was in new york city. on a saturday night. at 30 rock - which is rockefeller center. with my cousin sue.

of course, there was the small detail of not having tickets. and a line in the lobby that twisted all around the elevators. some people would see this as a problem. we, being young and confident, saw it as a minor inconvenience.

so when the line started loading into an elevator, we just jumped in front of someone else and got right on. it was packed. and the doors started to close. and a voice said to us, may i see your tickets? oh. i looked at susan, and she starts rummaging in her purse, stalling for time. needless to say, it's hard to find tickets you do not have, so we were escorted off the elevator. and get this: we were escorted by a girl who recognized me from college, in a remote middle-of-nowhere kind of place, thousands of miles away. she was an NBC page. and while she was happy to see me, it did not get me onto an elevator.

back to square one. plan b: we next searched for, and found, the freight elevator. this time we were ready. susan, who is by far the best bullshitter of the two of us (she works for the u.s. government, after all), told the attendant quite convincingly that she worked in the building and had forgotten her badge, that we just had to run back to her office and grab something, so sorry for the inconvenience but we just couldn't wait for the main lobby elevators. and presto, we were on our way up.

next challenge: 30 rock is a very big building. and we had no idea what floor saturday night live was on. it was a real hit and miss kind of deal, in which we spent the better part of the next hour picking floors at random, wandering around, and getting back on. by this point, we could ride the regular elevator. we kept listening for applause, looking for signs (shouldn't there be signs, for god's sake?), searching for clues. and then, we found some offices. some big, important, unlocked, VP of NBC kind of offices. and we got a name, and a card, off one of the desks. and then we heard the show, only it was coming through a monitor, in a very big office, where sat a very important looking man. and in we marched. and down we sat. and up he looked.

and susan, my girl, plopped the card down on his desk, spewing forth her story that "frank" was our uncle and had invited us to come see a live taping of SNL, only there had been some misunderstanding and we had lost our tickets. or some such massive bs. and the guy is looking at us like, you have got to be kidding me. and he picks up his phone for what is surely a call to security, and tells someone that he has two stowaways in his office and can they please come get us. uh-oh. and take us into the show. what? he laughed and gave us credit for chutzpah. because let me tell you - YOU try to find a show in what is a 70-something story building. yeah. good luck with THAT.

and so we were taken into more elevators, and walked down many hallways, into a darkened LIVE FROM NEW YORK studio, and were left to watch what precious little was left of the show. because it took damn near an hour and a half to find it. and i still to this day can't tell you what floor it is on.

and when the theater was emptying, we went not in the direction of the exiting crowd, no. we had worked too hard to get there. next we were going to find the cast party and crash it too. and it took awhile, but not as long as you might think. and in we walked, and there was al franken eating a sandwich, and everyone kind of looked at us like, who the hell are you? and we smiled, and they stared, and we left. because really, isn't there a limit to how much adventure you can have in one night?

and off they go

it's his first campout without me. who will watch out for snakes? who will make sure he sleeps warm enough? who will know where he is at all times? oh yeah, his dad will be with him. but a dad is not a mom.

and he has a pocketknife now. how did that happen? what could he possibly need that for?

and his dad bought a new tent for this occasion. one that truly only sleeps two. and all his little buddies are going. and there's no siblings this time, or girls, or moms. it's like a bar mitzvah, only not jewish and it's not a party. but it seems like a rite of passage because it's a first. right now i don't really like firsts. and i certainly don't like lasts. i really, really like all the stuff in between that goes by so fast you don't realize it until that door has closed and another has opened.

when we said goodbye i reminded him to use good judgment but i think i was too vague. i said, really be careful and think if some other kid might have a not so good idea.

and he said, mooom. we are going to play football, ok?

so i quickly added, no, i meant like going to look for snakes or something. don't do that, k?

at which time he may or may not have rolled his eyes and headed out the door. but i had to say it. when you're a mother there are certain things you have to say even if no one is listening. it's in the rule book.

today when i went to exchange a pair of scout pants because a size 8 swallows up my skinny 9-year-old, i left the scout shop with a norman rockwell tapestry of the scout oath. i love it.



this is the scout oath:

on my honor i will do my best to do my duty to god and my country and to obey the scout law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.

they've all memorized it. let's hope they live it.

update: they have not yet been gone an hour and already they've called. i know the exact longitudinal/latitudinal coordinates of where they are. what they are eating. drinking. at this rate i will not have the chance to miss them.

the busy contest: am i winning?

i know i just posted about the art of busyness, but it is still such an issue that i must go again.

one thing that has never had any charm or appeal to me whatsoever are these words: i'm so busy. i mean, i know people compete about a lot of things but this is just about the dumbest one i can think of. i do not care how busy you are. please, do not tell me. it's like asking someone how they're doing, and instead of saying "fine," they actually start to tell you. no, stop, i didn't really mean it. and one person in my life, who would go into excruciating detail about how they really were, i finally trained myself away from ever letting that question leave my mouth. instead i now say, hi (person), good to see you.

and here is a confession: i am not that busy. i am not competing in the busy contest. to me, it's like saying you have a bunion on your foot and a wart on your hand when i have to listen to someone's daily itinerary. I DON'T CARE. you are a lovely person, i'm sure, but just do not bore me with your daily planner. i have my own. do you want to know that we're going to the vet at 11:00? no? i didn't think so. it bores me sometimes and i LIVE it.

so in this quest to find someone to lead a den, we have received a santa's bag full of excuses about why this person cannot. and because it was so entertaining, i will share.

this person is very busy. very, very busy. they do swim team. so do we from MAY TO JULY. it is october, people. welcome to fall.

this person does basketball. so do we from DECEMBER TO FEBRUARY.

this person does baseball. the season ends next week, and pretty much anyone i know with a boy does baseball. so that is not above and beyond, dude - that is equal.

this person does many other things, including pray. when asked to do something, this person will pray to see whether god wills it or not. and do you know, that ten times out of ten, god does not will this person to do anything?

i believe in god, and i pray too. my answers usually come in the form of a gut feeling that i should kick my butt into gear and get involved. because that is how the world gets changed. that is how kids learn to ride a bike. that is how leaves get raked. that is how messes get cleaned up.

and i have time to do these things because i use my time wisely. that's another thing. people that are so, so busy seem like poor planners to me. like the jack of all trades, master of none. pick a couple things you really like, and do them well. and please, for the love of god, quit complaining. when we first joined scouts, the pack leader's motto was: he who complains shall inherit the problem. meaning, if you don't like it, volunteer for it and change it. the people with all the ideas for action are "too busy" to implement them. the idea is their contribution. they want you to make it happen.

so this busy contest...my lord, it is boring. if it was an olympic event, no one would tune in. but before long, i'm sure it could be a reality show. well, i'm off to run errands. and i won't bore you with all the details. good to see you, though!

halloween buyout

a couple days ago i took the kids to look at overpriced, ridiculous halloween costumes that were all black and involved gore or blood of some kind. they were made of something similar to dryer lint and were priced around $24.99 each. and we have a dozen costumes at home that look just like them.

and $24.99 x 2 = $50. for something that will get sweaty and fall apart and be worn less than two hours.

hey, i said, how about we do a buyout for halloween. i'll give you each $10 cash and you wear something we already have at home.

deal! deal! and i have never saved $30+ so quickly and easily as that.

isn't it time for a post about elvis?

i was not blessed with a great singing voice. and i am reminded of this whenever i sing in the car because one of my kids will inadvertently say, mom. stop.

and the great irony of this is that i come from people who love to sing. perhaps you've seen my video of my cousins singing and playing guitar. or read about my uncle, who was singing to the nurses at the end of his life. or my cousin sue, who once jumped onstage in downtown boston to join a band singing "how sweet it is to be loved by you." and, you know, we were just walking by.

and then there's my aunt. her status is legend among us nieces and nephews. for she, my friends, sang with elvis. she dated elvis. and i knew you would not believe me so i brought pictures.

she and my mom lived in shreveport, and were privy to something called the louisiana hayride. they knew people named hank williams, jim reeves, johnny horton, elvis presley. these guys were on the cusp of becoming very, very famous. my mother never liked elvis. and as entertaining as it always was to hear our aunt carolyn recount stories of elvis, it was equally so to see my mother's roll of the eyes and retort: "he was always just so full of himself."

carolyn would open up for jim reeves, and her big song was "the marriage of mexican joe." it placed in the billboard charts. she never told us this. it was only with the advent of the internet that my cousins and i discovered it.

here is her publicity photo:



here she is with a very young elvis, who even then had the snarl that irritated my mother so:



and here is a book she was in (a whole chapter about her!):



and lo, these many years later, carolyn too is still singing. all she really needs to get going is a glass of wine and a dark, smoky room. she outlasted all those guys on the hayride. rock on, aunt carolyn. rock on.

busy cancels busy out: so now what is your excuse?

dear den of complainers:

it has come to my attention that your den does not have a leader. and while many of you do not work but still are so, so busy, i have graciously offered what precious little time i do have to step in and take on this role. even though my sons are not in your den. and even though this will take time away from them.

but now i see that the time i have selected will not work for some of you. and you are mad. you want to meet at a time that does not conflict with any of your other activities. wow, what a perfect world that would be! is there room for me on your planet? i'd like a reservation for four!

and each of you are telling me why the other won't commit. how the other doesn't want to volunteer for anything. you seem to have a lot of insight here. how it is so maddening that no one will step up. no one else, that is. i understand that you yourself are busy.

what is it like to be so busy? i can't imagine. you poor thing. i'm too busy trying to catch bon-bons in my mouth.

and now i want to tell you a little secret. but you mustn't tell anyone else. i learned this on my own many years ago just by observing the people i knew. people make time for what matters to them. and do you know that nothing in the world can stop them from it? it's true. they will say one thing, but watch what they do. therein lies the secret. do they have time to watch tv? or get manicures? or talk on the phone? or play golf? or go to baseball games? or shop? or exercise?

whatever they make time for is important to them. the secret is in watching. not listening.

so when i hear you say you do not have time to lead your son, i see what you are really saying. and it breaks my heart for him just a little bit. but don't worry, i won't tell him. he will see soon enough, on his own, what matters to you.

oh, and one more thing. we all have the same amount of hours in our day. really! i'm not kidding! and while some people complain, others just do it. just do what needs to be done. and while we smile to your face, please note that you are not fooling anyone.

the only difference between us is how we choose to spend our time. me, with your children. and you, go back to your bonbons.

with deepest sympathy on your choice,
your leader

teaching sunday school: the tower of babel

my older son's class was four teachers short for today, so i volunteered myself and david to help out. what could be so hard, right? one hour. six teachers for 30 kids. so roughly five 9-year-olds per adult, right? uh. yeah.

and yet again i am reminded why i am not a teacher. and it is because of this: when i see a bad kid, i want to smack them in the face. of course i have never done this, it is a desire i repress. but my second instinct - to tell them in no uncertain terms to cut it out - that i do not repress. ever. much to the great embarrassment of my husband and, yes, sometimes my own children. i reckon i am doing my civic duty to step in where their own mothers have not.

so the kids were divided up into informal groups of three or four to build the tower of babel with small styrofoam bits and toothpicks. they could not talk. and each group had to try to build the tallest tower.

so my sweet son ended up in a group with the most rotten egg i have seen in quite a while. this boy, we'll call him cain for biblical purposes, refused to let anyone touch the materials. meanwhile, everyone else's tower was beginning to rise up. our boys had nothing. i look at my husband like, are you seeing this? and he looks at me like, remember, we are at church.

so cain is acting like whatever marbles he ever did have in his head have all rolled out, and he is just sitting there guarding the styrofoam and toothpicks, while they all were supposed to be building. competing. following directions. so finally i can take it no longer, and i walk over and bend down, staring intently at him, and say, guys, let's get going, you all need to share and get to work. and then i smile, because i am at church.

and i go sit back down with my husband who looks at me like, hello, we are at church, and i begin my whispering commentary: can you believe that kid?

and so they slowly start to build. at which point cain smashes everything that the other two boys make. i begin to fume and emit smoke from my ears. i narrow my eyes and will that boy to look right at me, so that i may bore a silent but holy hole right through him. i begin to wonder where his mother went wrong. because he is nine, for heaven's sake, and acting like he is two.

i lean to my husband and say: it is taking every ounce of patience i have not to say anything. he looks at me like, church.

after what seems an eternity, but is really probably 15 minutes, this activity is over. i make a mental note never to teach sunday school, because while i am permitted to be as strict as i want to be at elementary school, i don't think you can do that at church as my husband's look keeps reminding me.

so then the teachers move on to the story of the tower of babel, and ask the students if anyone knows what the bible verse "pride goeth before a fall" means. one boy quickly raises his hand and says, it means, it just means, .... i have no idea what it means. and that was my favorite part of the whole hour. because his mouth spoke quicker than his brain.

much like myself, when i volunteered for this gig.

my personal sliding scale

so here is what the bathroom looked like yesterday, after clearing it out so the plumber could make a nice hole in the ceiling:



we put a temporary patch on it while we wait in line for a contractor to come and do some sheetrock work, some tile work, and various assorted other work. and while i was myself trying to put the patch on it last night, i climbed the ladder and saw what i thought was a dead mouse up in the ceiling. i screamed, almost fainted, turned white, and had to sit down and try not to throw up. at which point my mother rolled her eyes, said, "oh for heaven's sake," and climbed the ladder herself. the "mouse" was a piece of pink and gray insulation.

but unfortunately it was a two-person job, and i could not help. we closed the door, put a towel at the bottom so no creatures - dead or alive - could come out. and so lucky david, after putting in a full day at the office and trekking off to a two-hour scout leader meeting, got to do it all by himself at 11:00 last night. yay for david.

and as i look around at our cardboard fixes in an otherwise pretty house, it reminds me of a couple of things. one is how my friend kathy's dad used to duct-tape his slippers whenever they started to rip. and over the years, we watched as his slippers went from black to silver. and the last time i saw him, he had basically just duct-taped his feet. because why buy new slippers if there was still a couple of threads left?

and two is, my aunt's description of how her three sons approach things. i have never forgotten it and i use it to this day. she basically said, that if something were to break,

1. roger would fix it himself

2. ronny would pay to have it fixed

3. michael would leave it broken

and doesn't this just sum most of us up? i am totally a ronny, but when a lot of stuff starts breaking at once, i slide between a #2 and a #3. especially if it's not hurting anything to just stay broken.

so i put everything back in:



so now the only problem is this:



and i think i know the answer. i'll just invite roger to come visit.

plumber saying "bad news" = not a good thing

so remember how i went to ikea to buy curtains that were 98 inches long? they were actually to be used as shower curtains, because i am stealing this idea straight out of a model home village we saw. i hung them really, really high, hung some artwork, pulled a plant in there and it was so very pretty. for two days. and then, a leak appeared. right next to my new curtain. so out comes everything, and now it is as bare in there as a baby's bottom.

my plumber, wayne, seemed to think the leak was coming from our balcony. but no, it turns out it was coming from the tub directly above, so now i have two not-pretty holes: one in the ceiling and one in a wall.

and so i stayed home today while wayne and his partner drilled and cursed and said things like, uh-oh. and, whoops. and, oh wow. do they not think i can hear them? and then he comes down and says, do you want to see the bad news? um, no i do not. nor do i want to hear about it or pay for it.

so i take a look-see and it's not as bad as all that drilling sounded. until i remember that we have squirrels in the attic, who now have a deluxe open-door right into our bright, air-conditioned home. i immediately let rosie the bloodhound in from outside. and i tell her to bark. get 'em, rosie, get 'em.

then i close both bathroom doors and realize how enormous the space suddenly seems to me between the bottom of the door and the floor.

wayne, i say, could a squirrel come under that door?

he looks. a squirrel? no. not a squirrel.

i don't like the way he says that. implying that it may be the only thing that could not come in. kind of like, well a circus car and a clown show could come in there but a squirrel? no. that's how he said it.

so now i'm thinking i may need to quickly go buy some fox urine. that is a thought i have never had before, and a sentence i never thought i'd type. because kyle called and left a morbid message the other day on my answering machine that said: fox urine. that's all i'm gonna say. fox urine. and i'm all, what? what did he say? what is he talking about? and when i called him for clarification, he said he read my blog and that squirrels hate that smell. (yeah, well, it doesn't sound like something i would like either.)

so i'm off to home depot. to say that sentence out loud: yes, excuse me, where is your fox urine?

god help me.

it takes a lot of patience to be alive

first i would just like to say i have never, in my life, been late with a bill. i would not even really know how to do that. it's not in my dna.

so you can imagine my great thrill at spending 17 minutes on hold today with comcast, for the second time, to correct a "late notice" i received in the mail. i spoke with someone in mexico who spoke very little english. so i'm all, what? what did you say? the whole time like i'm 89 years old. it seems that, during our move, i did not switch my account number on my online bill pay to reflect the new number. and yet, the money had been sent out. to bill pay limbo, purgatory, the great beyond. i was also charged for service during hurricane ike week, when our electricity was dead. and, there was a $7 late fee, as a final slap in the face.

all to which i say, i don't think so. because i am the person who goes over every single line of a bill. i will complain if i am overcharged even 53 cents. you hold up your end of the bargain, and i will pay my fair due. but i'm not gonna fatten anybody's coffers. i requested (and got) credits for every bit of it. you've got to watch these companies like a hawk. i mean, come on. they farm out all of our jobs to mexico, and you still have to wait 17 minutes to get a real person? what the heck is that?

patience.

today i did guided reading with some fourth graders who need a little extra help. we were reading "skinnybones" by barbara park, which i hear is quite hilarious. so i have five kids in my group, only two of them "don't speak." so i'm not real sure how oral reading is going to help, but i'm not there to ask questions. they can speak, they just don't. i'm familiar with the problem, although i am 100 percent sure it did not exist when i was a kid, in the pleistocene era. lord knows i could not be a teacher. i just could not put up with all of it. and i had no idea what they go through until i started doing hands-on volunteering, where i "play" teacher for an hour at a time. sometimes i leave there with a splitting headache. after only one hour.

patience.

and so yesterday i drove out to my beloved ikea. because although i am a bit past the flat-box furniture stage, they do make curtains that are 98" long and that's what i needed. so i am driving the freeway i've driven so many times before and where is my exit? have they changed the exits on this thing in the past two years? because my exit is gone. and also, ikea is gone, in my rearview mirror. so then i must go through a spaghetti bowl of freeways intersecting, turn around, and this time i pass ikea going south. (so two more times and i will have made a complete ribbon around it.) and i know how old-timers feel when they are being driven past something that used to be fields, and now it is stores or parking lots. because i have the sudden urge to defend myself that the freeway didn't used to do this.

patience. that is not in my dna either.

why, oh why, did noah need TWO of every animal?

what does it say about me that animal control is now on my speed dial? that my dog and i have gotten attacked more than once during a walk? that i have stalker squirrels living in my attic? that this new house is, i am discovering, somewhat of a wild kingdom?

and in our last house, what does it say that i had the non-emergency police number on speed dial? these are questions i ask myself. but i will tell you that, in our last house, our next-door neighbors were pulled from the bowels of hell. they were ring one of dante's inferno. if you were to look up the words "stupid jackass," plural, in a new slang dictionary, it would hold their family portrait. but i digress.

so here is the thing i am most excited about:



it is two, count them two live animal cage traps. one is already set, the other was brought to me moments ago by my friends at animal control. because now my son has convinced himself that these squirrels are going to enter his room while he sleeps through the a/c vent. i had never thought of that possibility - i told him that was impossible while making a mental note to check how tightly these vents are screwed on.

i used to like animals. but now i am seeing how much trouble they cause. during our week without electricity, my brother-in-law's fish tanks bit the dust. dead, smelly fish. my kids beg me weekly for a gerbil. no, never, when pigs fly. which reminds me, i even had a pig once. granted, it was not mine, it was my roommates. and poor delta, she did not last for very long - she was loud and grunty and stupid and stinky.

and half the time, i don't even like the dog we do have. but then i see something like this:



or this:



and i remember why we got her. because it is certainly not for her howling waking me up during the night and on saturday mornings. or the way she is always licking things. or her constant, incessant need to tromp through mud even though i threaten her daily.

so, okay, i like rosie. i'm not gonna kick her out. but all these other rodents, and ants on my kitchen counter, and spiderwebs that appear in spades in our backyard? no. weird looking albino lizards that send me up on a chair to scream for someone, anyone, to come quickly? no. and certainly nothing that you have to set a trap in your own house to catch, dear god no. please, little creatures, you go live in your world and i'll live in mine, and never the twain shall meet. please. or i will have to send you to another world. amen.

my kid is cool. and i am sad.

this morning as we're heading out the door to walk to school, the wind is whipping around and it's starting to rain. so i herd my flock back in to get raincoats, only they don't want raincoats. they want to get wet. it'll be fun, they say. i tell them: what will not be fun is being wet in class all day. so we finally compromise on umbrellas. that way they can still get a little wet, and stay a little dry. everyone is happy.

only they tricked me and never opened them up. we're just walking fast, as fast as we can, and waiting while the crossing guard's chair gets blown over, and squinting our eyes against the wind and rain. and falling leaves are slapping us in the face and we're almost running.

go in the front door, i tell them. that way you won't get so wet. but they run into their friends at the bike rack and my 9-yr-old wants to go with them. the long way. the wet way. and right then i see it, it is almost invisible to the naked eye. but i'm a mother and i see it so clearly: he is beginning the drift away from me. he is choosing his friends. he never turns back to say goodbye and my heart starts to feel like it has cracked a little.

but my little guy, the young one, he is all about the front door. he doesn't care about going with the flock. he wants to stay dry. he wants to make me happy. he wants the path of least resistance, the path of the fewest steps.

and i look once more at my big guy, at his back walking away from me, laughing with his friends who are all, by now, wet. he doesn't turn back to wave. i just watch him walking, walking away.

crazy with a k

so all this squirrel drama got me thinking about kathy, my childhood friend. our dads worked together, our moms lunch together still, and oh what a history we have. we met in kindergarten. i was told to say: my dad works with your dad, do you want to be friends? she said she knew right away i was a dork.

our dads hunted together. and one time, at their cabin, her brother went off to shoot squirrels while we stayed behind to do girly stuff. like play with sticks in the sand. so he comes back and we look up, horrified by what we might see, and ask if he shot any squirrels. because at THAT time, i thought squirrels were all cute and nice. he said no, then he turned around and hanging out of his back pocket was a furry squirrel tail. we were completely mortified. but now as i recall the memory, what mortifies me most is the person who had to wash those pants.

anyway, i hardly think one post can sum up my many, many years of adventures with this girl. so i'll jump around. one time i came home from college for the weekend and she picked me up in a very fancy convertible. i asked whose it was and she said, i married a chicken farmer from bolivia. and it was true.

another time, in high school, her mom found a bottle of vodka we had planned to take to some high school function and emptied it and replaced it with water. we had no clue. we thought we were getting drunk.

we used to roller skate down parking garage ramps. we were both roller queens, with very fancy skates. when we moved four months ago, i finally threw out my red-wheeled white booted skates. i have skated many miles with that girl.

one time in the fifth grade, she double-dared me to put a thumbtack in mary's desk, so she'd sit on it. mary was the teacher's pet. we did not like mary. we liked writing in cursive upside-down and bugging a boy named brian, "no brain brian." so i did. and mary sat on it, and started to cry, and it was so sweet, that few moments of domination. and then the teacher saw mary's face, and the fun ended right then. i would say it came to a crashing halt.

and then there was dodgeball. i could stay alive longer than anyone in dodgeball. but the bad news about that is it meant i was the sole survivor of my team, competing with the best ball-thrower on the other team, which may or may not have been kathy. and there was only one way for that to end: badly for me.

and we loved judy blume. and i remember when i read "blubber" it had the word bitch on page 30. yes, i can remember it that well. and i ran to call kathy and was all, ohmygosh, look on page 30 right now! and we just stared at it in disbelief that you could publish a bad word like that.

and so wow, my little stalker squirrel triggered all these memories of my many years of adventures with the one and only nancy kathleen. oh, and just one more. her brother took us horseback riding one time and we prided ourselves on the fact that yes, we had rode before and knew what we were doing. well, kathy got a wild one that hated her. and it took off straight into tree branches and into a creek, eventually falling on top of her. yes, a horse fell on top of her.

and i was all, help! help her! and then my horse decided to have a little fun and took off, with me, in a different direction. and i'm kicking and heeling the thing, pulling its reins and finally, what seemed YEARS later, we all met back up. and then her brother totally insulted us by saying, you know these horses can tell you don't know what you're doing.

what?? we knew how to ride a horse! and just as we said that, i swear if both our horses did not take off running straight toward a glass building. this was at texas a&m in case you're wondering. and we're screaming bloody murder and her brother is laughing! and you can bet i have not touched a horse since that day.

kathy is still alive and well, divorced from the bolivian chicken farmer, and the guy after that, and she lives near the alamo with her little boy, who likes to wreak havoc and raise hell, just like his mother before him.

a shout-out to my celebrity reader

a couple days ago i got a very cool email from jeff kinney. jeff is the author of the "diary of a wimpy kid" book series, which is going to be made into a movie. he came across my blog and said many nice things, making my head swell to the size of my great state of texas.

we love jeff's books at our house. and might i just say: they have been "#1 on the new york times bestseller list." number one! he was in the same slot as all the harry potter books! (and HE likes MY blog!)

i first saw his books at target, where you can't not notice the title and cover. it just makes you laugh. i bought it and read the whole thing before i gave it to ben. he read it with his dad and they laughed out loud. his friends at school are reading them. they love to do the 'intelligence test' on unsuspecting victims. (sorry, you have to read the book to find out.)



but the doubly cool thing about these books is this:

one: they made both my kids want to keep a diary. they want to write! although matthew's first entry started out: today was a very bad day because mom got mad. i reminded him that that particular day had been a blast because he and his brother had taken a big box and made it into a sled, which they rode down the stairs all day long. oh yeah! he said. so he erased and started over.

two: these books are easy and fun to read. and while both my kids already love to read, i realize there's a lot of kids who don't. and it just seems to me that anyone would love to read with the right book.

so let me digress and get on a soapbox for a minute. i do volunteer reading at school with kids from kindergarten to fourth grade. and i see fourth graders who struggle over "charlotte's web." and it just breaks my heart a little bit to realize that these particular children do not have parents at home who help them find the right book. many of these kids never see their parents read. it is not made a priority, as it should be. and then it becomes the school's problem, the teacher's problem, the other student's problem who have to wait for these kids to keep up, it becomes our problem. and how do you instill in someone else a love of reading?

we are lucky at our school to have a great librarian. she has read most every one of the thousands of books she stocks, and takes time to help a struggling kid find the one that will interest them. because everyone has interests. even if their interests are baseball or gaming, there are books about that that can open up this world further for them. and a book can be such a companion when you're alone, or depressed, or ahem, without electricity for many days.

when we moved four months ago, i got rid of many boxes of books that i didn't love. and all that i kept i feel strongly about. i will not loan them out. for example, there's the only western epic novel i've ever read, "lonesome dove." i couldn't believe i liked it, made sweeter still by the fact that larry mcmurtry was one of my dad's favorite writers, so that was something we could share. i treasure that book. our harry potter collection - brilliant. an uncorrected proof of larry king's book. "the picture of dorian gray" - swiped from a special someone during college. so this is what's left:



and it's not that many books considering how long i've been on the planet. and i love my dinky little paperbacks just as much as my hardbacks. it's not for show, anyway. i detest a study filled with hardbacks you can tell have never been opened.

so anyway, i love a good book. and being able to write a good book, that is loved by children and makes them want to read? that is priceless.

this is a recording: the top 10 things i say to my kids every day

i was awoken today - my one day of the week to sleep late - at 8 a.m. with a face in my face whispering: mattthew put too much toilet paper in the toilet again. oh joy.

starting today, i want to make recordings. because so much of what i say is a repeat of what i said the day, or hour before. and i repeat because it always seems as though no one hears me. because normally in a civil conversation, when one says something you expect an "ok" or an "alright" or something in response. here is what i get 95% of the time: dead silence. so i start to wonder: did they hear me? have they gone deaf? am i invisible and just imagining this life?

so recording #1 will be: wipe, then flush. wipe, then flush. do not fill the potty up with paper before you flush or you will be the one with the plunger, face mask and sterile slippers.

and recording #2 might be: all clothes go in the hamper. (pause.) yes, everything. please do not rewear your underwear. please pick out a clean pair.

#3: go brush your teeth, pee and get your bed ready. (minutes pass.) Go Brush Your Teeth, Pee and Get Your Bed Ready. (more minutes.) GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH, PEE AND GET YOUR BED READY. (this one will get a lot of play. it's too bad i can't collect royalties.)

#4: finish your breakfast and go get dressed for school. go. now.

#5: what is for breakfast? well since this house has not magically morphed into denny's it's pretty much the same thing as yesterday, and the day before: toast. cereal. eggo. oatmeal. fruit.

#6: it's time to start homework. (prepare for complaints of tiredness, confusion, loss of speech, or even perhaps an oscar-worthy dramatic performance with tears and big drama.)

#7: quit fighting. quit or you will both go to your rooms and take a nap. and lose screen privileges. for an hour. (or the day.) (or week.) QUIT NOW.

#8: can someone please fill up rosie's water bowl? can no one else hear her pushing it clear across the floor? hello? where did everyone go? (this one would play approx. 8 times a day. dog drinks a lot.)

#9: guys, calm down. Calm Down. it's very exciting to be alive, yes, but please quit trying to run down the stairs backwards or high jump the coffee table. Calm. Down. shhhhhhh.

#10: time to pick up. (pause for complaints of who did not get what out.) i am not a maid, pick it up. or it will disappear. and i know some kids who would love new toys. PICK UP. NOW. (wait for complaints to continue, during which time they could have picked it all up five times and be watching spongebob with a snack. marvel at the loss of time spent repeating, on my part and theirs.) (ask if perhaps they'd like to next pick up my mess, since life is not fair. no? ok, then.)

this is a recording. goodbye.

animal kingdom

this is a fat dog's lucky day. i spilled animal crackers all over the floor and like a true blogger, reached for my camera instead of a broom. tonight rosie had a beauty treatment at the groomer. she got so excited when i went to pick her up, i heard a very worrisome crash when they went to get her. i mean, it sounded like she fell out of her cage. turns out she stepped in her water bowl and turned the whole thing over, so she got all wet. i love her but she will never win the poise contest in any beauty pageant.



then tonight when we got home, i turned on the porch light and sitting above the door on the outside was THE SQUIRREL, staring in at us. the squirrel, that lives with us under our roof. the squirrel that i would shoot in a new york minute if there weren't laws here about hunting. and handguns. and insanity.

he mocks me. when i walk outside to get the mail, he makes sure i see him on the ledge before he darts into our house through THE HOLE. when i throw things at him, like rocks and branches, he looks at me like: is that the best you got? but i have to say it just takes the cake when he comes to one of our windows and just looks in at us. like, hey, wassup peeps, i'm just chillin in my crib. and i scream and make the dog bark and he doesn't budge. that is maddening. he is a tiny predator. and he will go down. i say, bring it on little furball.

just. you. wait.

"sarah palin scares me"

yesterday i was trolling through my celebrity blogs (and there's a lot of 'em) and i came across a political message from diddy that's on youtube. he is whispering "sarah palin scares me," in the dark, with a flashlight shining up on his face, like some weird political version of blair witch project. i kept waiting for the punch line, but i got so freaked out i finally clicked out of there.

why oh why do my beloved celebrities feel the need to open their mouth on politics? do they have a background in poli-sci? do they put their money where their mouth is? do they really know anything about anything? aren't many dozens of them high school dropouts?

and matt damon, he had a funny one about sarah palin, saying she was like some bad disney movie where the soccer mom becomes president. and let me tell you, matt damon is scared too.

and then i see others, like this heidi and spencer clownshow. i cannot for the life of me figure out how or why they are so famous. they are like wax caricatures of the michael jackson variety. they are endorsing mccain. but who cares? do you care? i don't care. and then kid rock said that he is not voting for obama, but only because oprah is and he doesn't like her. well if that's the case, i need to find out who that fat-ass dr. phil is voting for, and i will vote the polar opposite of him.

i'm courtenay and i approve this message.

a good time not had by all

tonight when i went to put my 6'er to sleep, he was writing in his journal. he decided it would be cool to keep a journal because he started to read 'diary of a wimpy kid.' (and that book, my friends, is hilarious.)

this is what the 6'er wrote: "today was a good day. i went to carter's house and captured tanner (little brother) in carter's closet with his pet hoho."

it seems that matthew and carter had been planning this capture for two days. originally the plan was to have teams and take tanner as a hostage. but there were no teams, so they simply captured the little guy and put him in the closet. in the dark. with his stuffed pet, hoho.

i said, was tanner having fun too?

matthew said, well, he was screaming.

i said, uh, in a good way?

no? i didn't think so.

and the sad part of this story is, i remember how fun it was to be young and mean. when i was about his age, some of us started a "pierced ears club" and only one little girl didn't have pierced ears so she was shut out. and in the fourth grade, another little girl and i used to kick the boys before school. and there's more. trust me, there's more.

but i was also on the receiving end. one time playing cowboys and indians, i got tied up while a boy bounced a ball on my head. my mother chased him all the way down the street. and in elementary school when all the girls were wearing yo-yo shoes, with a hole in the heel, a girl (and yes, i still remember her name) said to me, you think you're so hot in those shoes, don't you?

turns out no, i didn't feel so hot after that. and i don't think i ever wore them again.

kids are mean, it is true. but maybe all that toughens us up for what's to come later. no matter how nice and good you are, or how tough and mean you are, sooner or later some little flat-footed fish punk (ben's term) is gonna come along and just pop the air right out of your balloon. and as a mother, you're gonna want to punch that kid in the face. but you don't, because you can't, because jail would be no fun. even if you had some really nice gold-rimmed yo-yo's to wear there.

facebook: i don't get it

so i joined facebook. jana is speechless. steven is drinking coffee. anne is wondering when her kids will ever get tired.

i got sucked in easily enough. i got an email from a college friend. an old, very glamorous friend who i haven't seen in years. she invited me to join facebook, and she told me how she is in new york all the time and is planning some two-day party there with drag queens in bikinis. so, you know, i was tempted...i wanted to see pictures of her and her life and these drag queens. because she is also the mother of two boys and married one of my old buddies from back in the day. they married on halloween. that should tell you everything you need to know about them.

all i really knew about facebook is that everybody does it, which normally would have turned me off by that fact alone. and that naima, my muslim friend, could never figure it out. but naima could also never figure out driving or how to read a blog, so i just kind of figured it was one more normal thing that was il comprehendo.

and now i am a member of this vast wasteland. now i get constant emails asking me, 'do you know this person?' 'do you want to be their friend?' and my answer is no. i have enough friends. or 'perhaps you know this person, because your friend does?' and my answer would be, i know enough people now. i don't feel the need to add more onto my wagon. go away. leave me alone.

facebook also tells you who are now friends. like, 'kyle is now friends with steven.' this is posted as breaking news. it's like a permanent slow news night at this thing. people can 'write on your wall.' so it's like a yearbook for the world to see. and the 'do you wanna be my friend' aspect is kinda like a sorority. oh boy, all the things i loooove. high school and sororities, but you're all grown up now and people can literally count your friends.

i am getting emails that say stuff like: 'anne wants to be your friend.' or, 'portland has not confirmed you as a friend yet.' really, i need this? when i have school fundraisers to opt out of? team pennants to (get my husband to) string? my dvr'ed shows to watch? so uh, to all of those who love this facebook thing, well, good luck with all that.

but i want out. i am going to delete myself out of this funhouse but i can tell it's not going to be easy. my facebook just asked me, 'what are you doing right now?'

i wrote: 'i am wondering why the hell i joined facebook.' and with any luck, that will be posted as front page, breaking news.