a fly on the wall

i am eavesdropping on some 10-year-old's. i hear them burp the abc's. i hear them debate using my younger son's room -- who is not here to speak up for it -- as a newspaper lab. i see them stealing small sausages from the kitchen counter to lure the dog up to her latest trap. it must be a good one, too. i haven't see her for awhile.

one just said, your house is hot and so is your mom. not only do i know that he does not even know what this means, i glance in the mirror and see that i have chocolate brownie batter smeared on my forehead. that is about the furthest thing from hot you can get. more like, fat mom.

my younger son is at a friend's house. he hurled his backpack my way after school and said, see ya! oh, okay, i see my place. make the brownies and catch things that come flying my way.

now i just overheard my son tell his friends: oh, before i forget, my grandmother's sister dated elvis, and then he died on a toilet. this leads to a muffled conversation i can hardly hear, except for elvis' name and some other stuff that someone heard about him. but what? didn't elvis die like a hundred years ago?

i mean, hello, what can be more entertaining than just listening to all this?

it is funny and sweet and oh-so-cosmic that i end up in a house full of boys. boys, in general, freak me out. they touch things that i run from. they have way more energy than i knew existed. my sons are very calm, in comparison to most. but when you bring a third or fourth party in, the dynamic changes and implodes upon itself. they yell. they don't talk to each other, they yell as if they are all 98 years old and completely deaf. why? for the love of god, why?

and where is the dog?

one day at baseball practice, i heard one mom tell another that her older son, who had just learned to drive, went to a drive-through bank. and do you want to even guess what he put in the tube? the tube that goes to the teller? a gerbil. a live gerbil. i don't know who i feel more sorry for, the teller who probably wasn't paying much attention when she opened the tube, or the gerbil who basically got put into a spaceship and plunged into the atmosphere.

now they've gone outside. with cap guns, and a camera. they are working on a video for youtube, and are creating special effects. would girls ever in their life do this? i don't think so. i know why the girls laugh. the little girls, the college girls, the women.....they laugh and whisper because men are somewhat ridiculous. so easily entertained. so unaware of how they come off.

....two hours have passed....

...and that is because i am no longer the world's fastest blogger. that is because i had several 10-year-old boys here. and because then some 10-year-old girls started calling. and hanging up. and then, showing up. like, at the door. they came in, and they all stared at each other for less than 60 seconds -- so the boys decided to play basketball, and the girls left. it was very surreal. did that just happen?

they've all gone home now. i need to go stare at my son's face and see how it is possible for him to have grown up so fast since last night.

slow down, father time. slow down.

a sign i saw

"unattended children will be given expresso and a free puppy."

i love that.

the hidden dangers of elementary school essays

ok, well the title alone is probably longer than this post will be. but it is what is on my mind. you know you can live your life all fine and dandy, not really too worried if big brother is watching every move you make.....until your child is assigned to write a composition paper at school.

being inquisitive, i love to read what other children write. teachers post some of the more creative assignments in the hall, and us volunteers get to read, for example, their wish lists. some wish for a new game. some wish for a dog. others wish for a home. and one wished their parents would quit fighting. wow. i do not know the child who wrote that, but you can be sure these teachers know way more about us than we might like.

i always felt really good about how i parent. sure i get mad sometimes but, overall, i think it's all good. and then i read a paper that my older son wrote last year, which was out for the world to see at last year's open house.

it was about "the scariest day of my life." so i start reading and see that it is about our then-recent trip to disneyworld. and a roller coaster ride that his mother "tricked him into riding." and how he was so scared that he "almost passed out." and afterwards he was "nauseous, dizzy and ill." of course my first impulse was to shove the paper into my purse before anyone else read it. i was shocked, and mortified, and guilty. because it was all true. but i didn't think he would write about it.

let me defend myself. we spent a lot of money to take these kids to disney. and i was tired of riding things that just went around in a big circle. if i want to get dizzy, i can just turn a few somersaults at home. no, we were at disney and we were going to ride the rides. so every time we'd get in line for something, where people got off looking startled or unstable, my kids would look at me and ask, mom, is this fast? is it scary? and i would say, no, not THIS one. it's just a little bit fast. you'll be fine.

but this particular ride (expedition everest in animal kingdom, if you must know), was fast. scary. in the dark. backwards. jerky. and once the ride took off, and i looked at ben's face, he was completely pale and lifeless looking. unfortunately, at this time, we were hurling through the atmosphere in a tiny car at 50 mph. he was, for real, about to pass out.

this is probably the worst feeling you can have as a parent. that you have done something to harm your own child. of course i did not know he would react like this. i thought he'd just be pissed. this was way, far worse than pissed. and i start trying to console him and talk him through it while we are being hurled hither and yon. upside down in the dark. and i am about to spill my own cookies by this time, if you know what i mean.

when the ride was over, neither of us had much to say. we sat down for a long, long time. nausea and guilt are a terrible combination. i apologized the rest of the trip. we rode nothing else but rides that just went in circles. and i didn't complain. i thought we had left this in orlando. but it came back to haunt me in an elementary school essay.

i'm not the only one. my girlfriend told me that she was having the worst day ever. it seems the kids had to write about what they thought about the inauguration, and about our new president. then they had to read them aloud. her daughter wrote something along the lines of, my parents think obama is a socialist. they told us that we will have to pray very hard for our country every day, and for god to help this man.

wow. i do not agree with her politics, but i could certainly sympathize.

i thought i was home free. i had suffered my embarassment, we had talked about things better left unsaid, what should be kept private knowledge.

and then today comes. i open my same son's backpack and see an outline for a new composition paper he is writing. guess who it is about? me. why? why on earth?

and i start to read the notes. i see that i will have to sit down. my first characteristic is that i am "giving." but then it goes on to say, "she wastes her time to help me with homework" and "gives our toys and money away."

okay, wait. i do not consider it a waste of time to help my child with his homework. and i only give toys away when they are no longer used. and i somewhat infrequently donate money when there is a need. none of THAT is in the notes.

another characteristic is this: "she plays games with us even if she is on facebook." oh my lord. and all i can say to this is, not a word of truth in it.

i can see that i will need to email the teacher. again. to explain. and she will laugh and tell me it's fine, she wouldn't have thought anything of it. that she sees much worse. and i will sigh and feel better and get on with my day. and hope that nothing else that scary comes home in the backpack for a very long time.

the pinewood derby: a photo essay

every year at this time, the scouts host their annual pinewood derby. it's a race of small cars, on a computerized track, and if you have any testosterone at all, it is very, very exciting. if, however, you are like me, and of a more feminine persuasion, you do things like bring the donuts or catch up with your girlfriends for three hours. and you clap at the right times.

before the races start, the cars are laid out upside down so they won't roll away. they are weighed and inspected, given names, and kept out of the little children's hands.



this is our new track. it's fancy. it cost close to $1,800....the dads were very excited. it is all computerized now, complete with sound effects, slow motion playback, digitized mph, and all the bells and whistles.



this is our pack, waiting through countless trial runs. they are good sports, and this year no one got hurt. just a lot of drink spillage, at which time i would swoop in with a pile of napkins and let the spiller clean up the mess. because that is just how i roll.



this is what you are given -- a block of wood. i would have no idea where to even start. i would just spray-paint it and put some stickers on it. but that's me.



my 7-year-old decided that he wanted a patrick car. patrick, from spongebob. patrick, the biggest idiot working in cartoon land. so this is how it starts to take shape:



many, many days later, it is painted. eyes and a tooth appear, as requested by the short stack.



the day of the race, it gets its wheels. all the other kids love it.



matthew's car is fast. very fast. it beats all the others...his daddy saw to that. it came in at 132 mph. i felt bad for the kids whose cars stalled out on the track, didn't even make it across the finish line. that would have been my car. because i haven't a clue how to make these things go. you have to know about stuff like weights, and top heaviness, and other things that make my eyes glaze over.



this is how ben's block started out. he wanted a formula 1 racecar.



it is drying.



it is on the track in slot #4.



no surprise here -- it wins. we win every year. we are the ones to beat. although there was one kid who had a car faster than both ben and matthew's. he has a single mom, so david was immediately suspicious of how her car was able to beat ours. most all the kids get trophies for one thing or another, which is nice. because i guarantee, the kids whose cars stall out are not too happy with their dads at this time.



this is me and my girl claire. she braids my hair in the summer while we wait at swim team. she follows me around the playground when i have lunch duty. and today she sat on my lap and explained the i-phone to me. i love her. she thinks we are like movie stars. and i have to agree with her.



there's only one thing about claire and me. we have to keep our relationship on the down-low. because she wants to marry my older son, and wants to beat up my younger one. they are mean to her. they torture her. and let me tell you, this chic is no shrinking wallflower. she thinks we could be famous if we were to go to hollywood together. i tell her that ship has sailed.

and now she wants to sail on a ship with me. i love the pinewood derby.

karate is now a part of my life

my young son, who is 7, does not like to do things. unless it is at his leisure, his choosing, his whim. he does not like to have to be anyplace. he likes wide, open air. he likes unstructured time. he hates swim team. is not thrilled about baseball. he tolerated basketball. he does not understand why he can't just stay home and eat chicken nuggets 24 hours a day.

which is why i was shocked when he came home last week with a flier from school about karate...and wanted to do it. i was confused.

you want to do karate? i asked.

yes.

it's a course, for 11 weeks, you'd have to leave the house and go every wednesday, i tell him.

yes, i want to do that, he tells me.

i had nothing else to say. i was speechless. i kept thinking he'd change his mind. then the day arrived and he was deep into a wii game with his brother.

matthew? i called up. if you still want to do karate, we have to leave soon.

this is where i'm fully expecting a change of heart. but i hear the controller hit the ground and feet on the stairs.

i'm coming! he calls breathlessly.

this one never ceases to amaze me. he is completely unpredictable. and it's nice, this time when i am able to be alone in the car with one child at a time, and they are really excited about whatever we are going to do. they don't have to share me. i don't have to share them. we are just driving and talking. and even better, my favorite song comes on.

matthew says, mom? do you want to rock out?

i say, yeah. do you?

let's rock out, he says.

so we blast the song. and drive. and rock out. he says it is now his favorite song, too. i couldn't possibly love him any more than i do at that moment.

so, karate. we get there and it's not a karate school -- it's the community center. the main guy is not chinese, which is a big disappointment to matthew. he is thinking he has signed to train with jackie chan. it's an old white guy with silver hair, who doesn't seem particularly fond of children. he puts up with no foolishness. he cracks bad jokes. no one laughs.

i sit for an hour and a half, trying not to fall asleep. i search my child's face for clues that it's not what he bargained for. he glances at me occasionally, to make sure i am watching him. i can see how he would like everything about karate: the discipline. the precision. the art of self-defense.

finally, it is over. he comes to put his shoes on to leave. i remind him that if he doesn't like it, he can still change his mind.

no, he says. i like it. i want to do karate.

and just like that, a new door has opened.

and a little child shall lead them

just as i was set to post about how my fourth-grade son constantly leads me back to the light, i see the dog cowered in the corner, shaking. he is in front of her with the greatly feared Darth Vader bank, that plays the Star Wars song loudly and ominously. he cannot help himself.

then i see a trail of no less than dozens of animal crackers, leading from beyond Darth Vader, up the stairs to where a trap is set for her. this is my dog's life. luckily she gets to sleep all day before the reign of terror begins. also, she gets to eat the animal crackers.

i am surprised at this child. he normally swoops in to save, and defend, and console. but he is just a boy, after all.....9 years old. and these things will happen.

this is a typical conversation between myself and the 9-year-old:

we are riding bikes to the dirt hill ramps in the park, but some big guys with remote-controlled cars have beat us there. they are jumping their cars off the ramps, creating quite the dust storm. we are all disappointed. i put my hands on my hips and look meanly at these big guys, hoping to scare them off. again, i realize i am not that scary looking.

so my first grader turns to me and says, i wish these dork-asses would just leave.

the 9-year-old is shocked. MOM, he says. did you HEAR what he said?

i am laughing. yes, i heard. and i totally agree with him. i remind the young one not to say dork ass in front of other people, but i rather enjoy his observations. my 9-year-old is disgusted with my lack of parenting, and his brother's lack of decorum. again.

there are times, many times, when i get completely disgusted or impatient with people we know. we are involved in lots of stuff -- we know lots of people, we have lots of interactions, on a daily basis. when one person does not hold up their end of a job, it can make all the other dominoes in the line fall down. i see this in scouts. i see this at school. i see this in our family. i see it in everything we are involved in.

and i speak up about it. and many times my son, the 9-year-old, will come to me and say, mom. just forgive them.

where did he learn this from? i would be lying to say that he learned it from me. i have taught him a great many good habits, all of which he takes to like a fish to water, but this undying kindness is not one of them. he has learned it, i dare say, in spite of me.

other times, i am worn out by bedtime. just exhausted and hoping for a quick story, so that i may return to whatever is so pressing at hand. and at these times, do you know what this child will pick for us to do together? read the children's bible. he will pull it carefully off of his shelf and turn to me and say, i want us to read the bible tonight.

and i will say, okay, which story do you want to hear? but i know the answer.

let's start at the beginning. always. we always start at the beginning. in fact, i think we've read the first few stories of the bible probably 50 times, never making it too far past noah.

and the other thing he does that just kills me softly is defend his brother. even when his brother has sold him out. there is frequent fighting in a house with boys: yelling, shoving, punching, tackling. sometimes for no reason at all. sometimes just because you look so happy sitting there, the little one will decide you need to be punched in the gut. hard.

this will result in a scream of pain and surprise, ends with scuffling, running, crying. mother yelling. GO TO YOUR ROOMS. WHO STARTED THIS? if the younger one started it, there is always just silence. the older one is loyal, like a soldier to his troop, and will not sell you out. this may explain his popularity at school. why at least seven boys all consider him their very best friend. he will take the hit for you. and frequently does.

here is another great irony: he was a very difficult baby. so much so that the crying made me wonder if i would make it through in one piece. the crying lasted nine months. nine months. and that was both of us crying, in case you're wondering.

he forgave me for being a clueless mother. he will tell me things like, you're the best mom i ever had. you look pretty, mom. this is a delicious meal, mom. well, thank god he has nothing to compare me to.

he is the reason we go to church. he is the reason we all get up on time. he is a leader to many, in a very small little body. when the kids at school were told to write about someone who they think is a hero, one indian boy chose to write about ben. so he ranks right up there with presidents and visionaries, at least to those of us who know him.

it's a dog's life, and i'm jealous

8:30 a.m. the kids left for school but not before building rosie a teepee tent to sleep in so that she'd be cozy.



11 a.m. the sun is pouring in now so she dismantles the tent, climbs on the roof of it, and lets out a big sigh.



2:00 p.m. we're just letting it all hang out at this point. life is meant to be lived. and you should be comfortable doing so. at least, that's what rosie says.

the cheap mom goes bowling

i know it's not my imagination that everyone is cutting back spending. i know this for a fact. and i know it because my most spendy friend told me on the phone this morning that she is now buying kroger brand rolls (which are horrible). with a coupon. i gasped.

but they're so horrible, i said.

you get used to it, she said.

and then she had to drive over and pick me up off the floor.

well, not really. but still. she had a pink limo and spa party for her daughter's birthday party last year. this year she hosted a money-saving sleepover. meanwhile my older son didn't even get a birthday party this year, which i am reminded of frequently. i like to bring up my own childhood, where i got ONE birthday party that i recall, at a roller rink. i was wearing a tennis dress and i had buck teeth. and going out to eat was luby's, two or three times a year. no desserts.

these kids do not have it hard.

i am honest with them. i tell them when we need to save money, or postpone a trip. or eat at home. i tell them that people who spend money they do not have are dumb. then my youngest will say something like, borrowing money is crap!

and i am shocked, and somewhat proud, and say, where did you hear that?!

and he'll say, dave ramsey.

we love dave ramsey. i won't bore you with his bio, but let's just say he's the most in-your-face, "any moron can do this" guide to getting forever out of debt and accumulating wealth. and my kids sigh loudly when i listen to his radio show in the car, but they do love it when he starts yelling at callers that they're being stoo-pid, stoo-pid, stoo-pid! let's be honest: they like the yelling and the name-calling.

so. they begged me over christmas vacation to go bowling. daily. hourly. pleaaaase, they would plead. we need to bowl. need to bowl? really? huh. in that case, i really need a massage and a pedicure and a host of other beauty treatments to not scare others away.

i put them off as long as i could and then finally, this weekend, we went bowling. and let me tell you, bowling is not cheap. let's just say the family-pack deal was $76. that is for four people and does not include a gourmet meal. it is the price of four balls, some ugly shoes, and a bucket of popcorn. which, of course, i refused to pay. because i am cheap mom.

we will bowl one game, i said. not two. much tsk-ing and sighing commenced. so then i added the zinger: and you can buy your own drinks and popcorn.

let me defend my position. (while my husband is, no doubt, rolling his eyes for a second time reading this, after having already lived through it.) we had just eaten lunch at home, complete with drinks. drinks at the bowling alley are $3 each. popcorn is more. you do the math. so these little people i lead around, who will one day be making their own money decisions without me, can see and feel the pinch when they pull their own dollars out to buy an overpriced drink. better now than later, i say. learn while the safety net is there.

these are the pricey balls:



you will note that we have stolen pretty much every ball from every other lane. that way we have lots to choose from.



nice form, ben. it's not fast, but it gets there. and usually takes a lot of pins down with it.



this form? he plays by his own rules. you can't tell him anything. half the time he runs down the lane and just chucks the ball as hard as he can with both hands. it lands with a thud, and rolls very slowly. we clap and nod.



like i implied, the form needs work.



and it's off and rolling....



the happy jump once said ball is on its way.



believe me when i say, it's worth the price of admission just to watch this little side show.

earning their keep

sunday at our house is not a day of rest. there are mounds of dirty laundry. groceries to be bought for the week. jackets, toys, magazines strewn around on benches and sofas. and if one person tries to do it, it is about as successful as pushing a giant ball up a mountain, only to have it keep rolling back down again.

so i rally the troops. tell them, we're doing laundry, people.

the first part is really fun. they get to DROP (not throw, not chunk, not hurl) it over the balcony. and that is only because i do not need two kids walking blindly down stairs with arms full of laundry. i do not need accidents waiting to happen.

so here you can see airborne clothes.



in fact, they like it so much that they want to do it again. so they haul dirty clothes back up the stairs and drop it again.

the smell alone would turn me off.



then it's time to sort. this is not nearly so much fun as making clothes fly. in fact, ben does all the work while matthew just experiments with how many clothes he can balance on his head. this does not go over well with ben. but sadly, he's used to it. sadly, we all are.



we have cracked matthew's philosophy. and it is this: if i work really, really slow, or pretend like i don't know what to do, the work will get done by someone else. you can see that ben is actually reading tags to see which pile to put the laundry in. matthew is not even pretending to do so.



but here's something the little guy is good at: cleaning counters. he will scrub them 'til they squeak. see the shine? never mind that he goes through half a bottle of fantastik on one square of countertop.



it's nice to have helpers. ben even made his bed to my standards this morning. and that's not easy! (matthew did not try. which is fine, since it would double my work time in unmaking and remaking. best to look at it that way.)

now i have 17 (or so) loads of clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away. any takers?

the cruel construction of a canine slip-and-slide

hello little pup. we know you just want to sleep. but we've got big plans for you today....




um, human lady? what's going on? can you help me?




human lady? i feel like i'm in jail. why do they bother me so?




how many days til they're back in school, lady? huh? i'm not going to play. i'm going back to sleep.



little dog, i'm right there with you.

an early bird i am not

it is late. i have somehow morphed back into a night owl. this, i fear, is not good news.

i take that back. it is only good news for the dog, because it means she has a 95% chance of getting walked after the kids go to bed. if she comes and stares at me long enough. and sighs.

my older son is an early bird. this was a problem until he learned to tell time because he'd wake up at 5-something a.m. and be ready to start the day. and i would say, why on god's green earth does anyone need to be up this early? why? but it all worked out, see.

because now he is the first one up. he takes a shower in our room, so he won't wake his brother up. this starts the ball rolling for the parents to wake up, seeing as how there is the muffled sound of running water filtering into our dreams. it beats the hell out of an alarm clock. then the dad gets up, and the stragglers are mom and the 7-year-old. and we do not enjoy being talked to, looked at, or walking upright until we're good and ready.

the 7-yr-old (or possibly the mom) will say: why are you talking so loud to me? quit talking so loud. just quit talking. and the others will be like, what? we weren't talking loud. we were just asking you something. and thus begins the snowball's roll into hell.

and i know how this happened, how we got off track. it was the christmas vacation. fourteen days is a lot of days not to have to get up, or be somewhere. (well, except for dear old dad who shuffles off to work so that we may stay home and gripe at each other.) (in truth, i think dad is happy to leave 78% of the time.)

and even as i began staying up later, and later, i'd ask myself, what are you doing? are you nuts? don't you know it's 2009 now and you have kids who will wake you up and need stuff, starting at 7:01 a.m.? but i shut these voices out, and lapsed back into my days of old being the last one to bed. the last one to turn the light off. even the dog retires around 10 p.m.

i noticed something funny the other night. we were driving home around 8 p.m., and my younger son -- the one who likes to sleep in -- is all chatty and talky and my older son says, WHY are you talking so LOUD and so much? and really, he was just talking normal. it dawned on me that once your clock kicks on or off, whether it's morning or night, you start to literally clock out.

so i need to reset my inner clock. i need to be an early bird. but it's not gonna happen tonight. so if you get up and get the early bird's worm, just dive right in. i'd rather sleep.

the bottom of my list

i am a list-maker, a task-master. a doer of things. if i write it down, it will become.

i have a four page "wish list" for our house. and every few weeks, more stuff gets crossed off. it has simple things on it, like porch flowers, and a towel rack for the guest bath. all the way up to a new a/c unit, and a new kitchen. but the thing is, i like to cross things off. and my four-page wish list is really more like two solid pages now, if i were to redo it. but i don't because i like to see how far we've come.

my daily planner, however, tells another story. it holds the black hole list, things that keep falling through the cracks. things like, buy your own camera. because my son has been so very nice to share his with me, and so very patient in explaining for the umpteenth time, how to turn the flash on and off. (and in my defense, it's not just one button. it's many clicks and a couple of scrolls.) whatever happened to point-and-shoot?

then there's the garage. yeah, i thought we were done with it when i heard the angels sing that day, but turns out, we still can't get two cars in there. we could before, at our other house, and we had more stuff and a smaller garage! so why not here? and things are sticking out in weird places, like a lawnmower, making it a very dicey few seconds when i pull in and out of the garage. and i really, really want a red and white bobber to hang down and tap my windshield when i'm perfectly parked. so i will know when to stop. how long would that take? 5 minutes? well, it's been on my list for 8 months.

there is also: watch harry potter and the goblet of fire. we've read all the books, and seen all the movies, but for some reason i cannot remember what happens in this film. so we bought it and it's been collecting dust, except when people watch it without me. maybe this is why i always lose at harry potter scene-it. even my 7-yr-old son beats me, and he couldn't care less about mr. potter.

practice dance dance revolution. if you don't know ddr, go to youtube immediately and type it in. it was actually a mother's day gift to me, requested by me, and once i made an "a" on a dance (which is VERY hard to do), i never got on the dancepad again. and truly, you don't know funny until you've seen a 6-yr-old dance to "blue monday" (by new order? the 1980s?). priceless.

of course, it would help greatly if i knew how to turn the wii on by myself. but i haven't a clue. i will add that to my black hole list.

pacman has staying power

it was popular then, it's popular now. in fact, i think it was the ONLY video game i ever played...besides tempest, where i could whoop anybody's butt. but my kids have no idea what tempest is.

this is what my younger son did while the older son and i were doing homework. we told him to go be quiet. and not play anything with a screen.



he said he plans to make many, many more. that the fridge won't be big enough to contain them all.

oh, joy.

it goes without saying, but...

the difference in birth order, illustrated with penguins

my two sons like to play an online game called club penguin. it's educational, it's cheap, they even let them play it at school. their real-life friends can meet them online in their penguin houses. they can shop, eat, solve mysteries. it's a good life, for a penguin and all.

and i know my sons are different. my older son is very compassionate and friendly. this is his penguin's house. it's a cozy little igloo with a fireplace and a stove, an outdoor grill, and some furry little puffle pets.



this, i fear, is my younger son's house. he designed it, he bought everything in it with penguin bucks. he lives in a discotheque. for food, he has only a popcorn machine -- very true to what he eats daily at home. he has a dance floor, a disco ball, a "party" sign, boomboxes galore, and a treadmill (his new love, see previous post.) he has a red carpet entry.



so when ben wants to party, he can just go to his brother's house. and when matthew gets a raging headache from the lights and the music and the colors, he can go to ben's.

new year's resolutions

who says my treadmill doesn't see much action? this little guy walked for 20 minutes today, at 2.4 mph.



i attached the safety clip to his shirt, since he had a question for me every two minutes. i didn't want him to turn around to look for me, and forget he was on a piece of equipment.



he loved it. he asked, what is c-a-l-o-r-i-e-s?

i said, calories. how much fat you're burning.

minutes pass.

he calls out: mom, i want to burn a lot of categories so that i'll be as skinny as ben.



i explained that ben is built different. he doesn't need to be that skinny. he doesn't care. he is now fascinated with categories.

facebook: here's your shovel. start digging

i have written about facebook before. it's like a worldwide yearbook that you sign with one or two sentences at a time. i don't totally get it. i don't pretend to. but when you join up, they give you a shovel so that you can dig up people from your past. and the whole thing is so very seussical to me.

you have brains in your head
you have feet in your shoes
you can steer yourself
any direction you choose

yes, you can choose people you went to high school with. or college. people you worked with. people that you maybe said hello to in an elevator who now, years later, want to be your friend.

you'll look up and down streets
look 'em over with care
about some you will say,
"i don't choose to go there."

yes, you certainly will say that. for example, i was doing searches on people i loved from college, people i liked from college, and then -- for the fun of it -- people who gave me the heebie-jeebies. and i kept finding them. but, you see, it's like you are peeking in through a keyhole. they don't know you're there. you can knock, or you can run away. and a few minutes ago, i very quietly crept backwards away from someone i had long forgotten about but who still gave me the willies. but why did i try? it's the ultimate crank call, with no caller ID. with something even better: pictures.

you'll be on your way up!
you'll be seeing great sights!
you'll join the high fliers
who soar to high heights.

yes, i found some high fliers today. people i used to work with at a big newspaper, that i adored, and had given up all hope of ever seeing again. but guess what? they're on facebook! i found one who had gone from the paper to sports illustrated, and is now practicing international law. and another who has designed his own award-winning, magazine-featured house. and one who cannot open her mouth without something hilarious coming out. and more. a very good bunch of eggs.

do you dare to stay out?
do you dare to go in?
how much can you lose?
how much can you win?

my friend carla's mom calls facebook "my face." we think she is confusing it with myspace. but it could also be called backspace. or, perhaps, slippery slope. because really, what are you looking for? aren't there some people that need to be left in the past? yes, of course there are. but also, i'm so glad to see these others who i thought were gone forever before we meet again in either heaven or hell.

of course, some people who register never check their facebook messages. so you write them and you just wait. and wait.

waiting, perhaps, for their uncle jake
or a pot to boil, or a better break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or another chance.

i don't know if i'll stay on facebook. sometimes it's nice to just check in with those you miss and think about from time to time, and then disappear for another 10 years. i've got mixed feelings.

you'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
you'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.

but now as always, it's the strange birds that make the whole trip worthwhile.

overheard

the 9-year-old (talking to his younger brother): blake and grant and jack and me made a movie and we're gonna put it on youtube.

the 7-year-old (yelling): mom, can we get rich if we make a movie and put it on youtube? like, can we get $1,000?

the 9-year-old: no, dummy. you have to be a rock star to get $1,000 on youtube.

oh, january, how i love thee

so today and for the coming weeks i will, i must, i will ......

walk more

eat better

drink less diet coke

be kinder

love more

hate less

and then i can get back to my regular self.

happy new year!