Sphinxian Dreams

Imagination

2011-12-30T06:22:00.000-08:00

Hi All! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! It was my dream to get Christmas letters out this year, but the kids have been keeping me busy. In some ways, I think it was easier to blog when the kids were younger; weird to think that when they required constant supervision I actually had more free time.

Anyway, the State of Virginia has mandated that this week be a vacation week (not a "free" vacation -- more like a furlough where I can offset the loss of income by using banked vacation time), but Adam's employer has not been similarly generous, so I have been spending the time trying to keep the kids occupied. This can be a challenge, as you can well imagine. Things we have been doing:

o Playing Scalliwags. If you are not familiar with this game, you can check it out here. The gist of it is that you use different body part cards to create pirates, and when you have enough pirates, you can "set sail"; the only problem is that the other players use event cards to make sure that doesn't happen.

After the second game, the kids got tired of losing, so they cast the game framework aside and just started using the body parts to make funny pirates. The natural extension of this was to start plotting adventures for their funny pirates. This was a good use of time (allowed me to clean up after lunch, to fix dinner, clean up the mess the cat made, etc.), although it has led to rather stilted conversations at dinner ...

Adam: So I got my bonus check today, and --

Xavier: Hey, remember that time when she hit him with the oar, and he fell in and almost drowned?

Gwen: Ha! Ha! And remember how she ended up with a green head after that and how none of them want to go out with her?

Adam: What, was this from Tintin?

Gwen (dismissively): No, Dad, this was from playing Scalliwags today. (Back to Xavier) And remember the time ...

I guess you had to be there.

o Working on the Pinewood Derby cars ... except this was an aborted project when we realized that we won't be able to attend the actual pinewood derby. After massive disappointment, Xavier announced to me today, "Since we can't do the Pinewood Derby, I've decided to use that block of wood to make a sculpture."

Me: Um, okay.

Xavier: Since I've never done this before, I decided to do either Emperor C. C. Caesar or the Korean Empire.

I'll let you know how that goes.

o Going hiking ... except Xavier caught a cold over Christmas and his asthma has been an issue. We did try walking through the neighborhood yesterday, and everything was going fine until a dog behind an invisible fence stalked, lunged for, and growled at Xavier, making him cry, and exacerbating his asthma even more ...

Luckily, we went to Tintin in the afternoon, and Xavier was reassured that while most dogs might go to hell, a few fictional ones might go to heaven.

As with most vacations, I'm sure this one will end with me being happy to get back to work so I can take a break (KIDDING! But software is less likely to fall down the stairs while clowning around.) I hope you all have a wonderful 2012, that it is better than 2011, and that I have more time to blog next year. In the meantime, there are bedrooms to clean (sigh).

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

Uh-oh, it looks like this is about to turn into a Holiday-only blog -- I guess I'll have to work on that.

We just got back from Thanksgiving with my parents in Reedville. In addition to getting to see my parents, we also got to see my niece, Chloe, which was nice. My parents have a little house, though, and having three kids in it can get pretty rough, so we spent a lot of time keeping them occupied. Among the things we did:

1. Play Croquet. I have never played croquet (in my memory), but my mother has a set and Xavier seems pretty keen, so one of the first things he did when we got there on Wednesday was to set up the wickets. Every morning after breakfast, Adam would go out with Gwen and Xavier (Chloe was less than keen) and play a game.

One day, Adam came in after a vigorous game and gave us the highlights. "... and it was really close, and Gwen lost, but she is coping really well." This was stated with his back to the window; meanwhile, my mom and I are looking past him to where Gwen is sitting on the ground, venting her fury on the grass.

My mother said drily, "Not anymore."

2. Go to the Playground. This activity was also pursued every day, although sometimes the scent of burning leaves or the "Smell of Money" (as odors from the Menhadden plant are euphimistically called) kept active play to a minimum. The kids like to play a game called "Evil Zorg", where the supervising grownup chases them around the playground and, after catching them, puts them on a swing to "catapult them into Outer Space."

One of the complications of this game is that Chloe and Xavier tend to get jealous of each other during play (perhaps because they are the same age), so when I am Evil Zorg, if I try to catch Gwen or Chloe, Xavier keeps placing himself in my way, saying, "Here I am!" (and usually ends up switching sides, becoming "Evil Mini Zorg.") If Adam is Evil Zorg, then Chloe is the one who keeps getting in his way. Given that the playground is built for kids (read: low hanging bars), the combination of equipment and children throwing themselves in your path makes for quite an obstacle course.

On Wednesday, after we played for awhile, Chloe asked if we could return to the house, because she was pretty cold. "Okay," I replied, "although I was thinking of walking to the end of Main Street to see if the ice cream store is open."

"All right, let's do that," she replied.

3. Going to the Movies. We saw "The Muppets", and aside from a tussle over popcorn and our disappointment that Pepe did not play a larger role, a good time was had by all. Evidently its failure to satisfy our "Pepe" craving was a bigger deal than I thought, because Xavier (and, to a lesser extent, Chloe) spent the rest of the weekend trying to imitate him ("I'm going to the bathroom now, okay?" in a very poor imitation of a Spanish accent.)

4. Teaching the Kids to Play Spades. The kids had a lot of fun with this, but the nuances of some of the strategies escaped them. "Chloe, you can't go nil with the Ace of Spades."

5. Riding Scooters. Actually, only Gwen and Chloe had scooters, so Xavier and I were often left WAY behind. One time when we were on our way home and the girls were out of sight, I suddenly heard a distant, "Mandy! Mandy!" Chloe zipped into view. "Mandy! Come quick! Gwen fell and hurt herself!" Message delivered, she whipped around and started zipping off, Xavier racing behind her, and me (carrying all the coats and not the fastest runner in the best of times) running a distant third. We ran a little less than half a mile to where Gwen waited crying on the side of the road ... in front of the house next door to my parents house.

"You know, Chloe, you could have gotten Gwen's dad in less time than it took you to come get me," I pointed out.

"Well, I asked her what she wanted me to do," Chloe conceded, "and she told me to come get you."

Despite the risk of boredom, we actually did not allow the kids to play video games very much -- we tried to keep them occupied in other ways. Still, no matter what the day was, even on Friday, when we went to the playground AND the movies AND the model trains exhibit at the museum, when Chloe's mom would call and ask what Chloe had been doing that day, her response was always, "Playing on my Nintendo DS." I shudder when I think of what a great impression we must have made on her mom.

Last but not least ... I got Gwen and Chloe matching Christmas outfits at Target. Chloe thought this "twinning" was pretty cool. As I was braiding her hair the day they wore the outfits, Chloe remarked, "Mandy, just think, if Xavier were a girl, and we were all wearing the same outfit, you would have to braid Gwen's hair into three braids, mine into two, and Xavier's into one just so you could tell us apart!" Never mind that they are different heights, have different hair colors, etc. ... sometimes I shudder when I think of what a great impression I must have made on Chloe.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving and safe trips!

Happy Halloween!

2011-10-31T15:25:00.001-07:00

Sigh ... it doesn't feel like Halloween this year. I didn't throw a party because my contract didn't get renewed until the last minute (October 24th), and it is hard to get in the mood to party when you are wondering if you need to be in the mood to work on your resume ... but it looks like my job is safe until next October!

Also, the kids opted to go to their weekly drama class instead of Trick or Treating. I know -- I KNOW! They must be sick! (Or, in the case of Xavier, putting his future career ahead of transitory pleasure ... no, no, must be illness.)

All the same, we have had some good times ... just last night, Xavier was talking about comic books he wants to write, including the "Wonder Willie and the Barnyard Catastrophe!" (Hopefully with maturity he will rethink the wisdom of that name.)

(Sorry, I was just held up at gunpoint for my Halloween candy. It might have been kind of cute, but there is something threatening about a trick or treater with a gun who is taller than I am.)

Today Xavier was looking at a picture of Gwen when she was younger and remarked, "Wow, she used to be so blond!"

"She's still blond!" I replied before Gwen could get upset.

"Yeah, but she used to be the Blondest of the Blond! Now she's getting Cherry!"

"Cherry? Don't you mean 'Strawberry Blond?'"

"Nah. I like cherries better."

For Halloween, Gwen was a Redcoat from the Revolutionary War. Needless to say, not many people got it right off. At the party they attended yesterday, Gwen was barraged with questions on what she was: Pirate? Marching Band Member?

Finally, Gwen told them, "British soldier from the Revolutionary War." Under her breath, she added, "I guess no one ELSE here is in the fifth grade!"

Well, I better wrap this up; more treats to hand out, got to go get the kids (now that will make for scary driving -- through our dark neighborhood with children running hither and thither). But you'll hear me explain as I drive out of sight: "Happy Halloween to all, and to all a Good -- HEY! Get away from my bushes with that toilet paper!" Gotta go.

Sunday School Facts

2011-09-11T16:45:00.001-07:00

Xavier's Sunday School teacher approached me today. "Wow," he said, "Xavier is just bursting with facts."

"Really," I replied. "Any of them accurate?"

He gave a careless shrug. "Most of them. He raises his hand, but he ends up blurting stuff out anyway because he is just so excited. Which is great, because it means he is interested!"

Poor guy. He has been teaching the third and fourth graders for years and I have never seen him quite like this about a student. Sure, he liked Gwen and commented on how she liked to read, but he also found her shy and hard to bring out. I guess he deserves an enthusiastic student after all this time.

He continued, "And Xavier always asks to be the one to read -- that's really unusual for a third grader, especially a boy."

"Well, Xavier is a pretty good reader for his age. And he wants to be an actor."

"I can tell! Just from the way he reads!"

OK, I am a Christian, but a third grader reading the Bible enthusiatically? I'd love to be a fly on the wall in that classroom.

Instead, I simply asked him, "So, have you covered the lesson on the High Priests yet?"

"No, why?"

I think he'll figure it out.

Religious Wrong

2011-09-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

Hopefully I won't get into too much trouble for this; after all, I am a Sunday School teacher. Of course, if I get fired, I won't be missing much, because the pay is lousy.

Anyway, I was reviewing my Sunday School lesson for tomorrow, which is about the high priests quizzing Jesus. As soon as I saw the title, I said jokingly, "I wonder if I should play the High Priests' song from Jesus Christ Superstar to put the kids in the mood." (The song is technically called "This Jesus Must Die" for the sticklers out there.)

Adam said, "Why not?"

Of course, I happened to say this in front of the kids. My show-tune loving young man yelled, "Why don't we listen to it now?!?"

So, for the next half hour, the kids and I boogied around and sang that song (and the song after, "Hosanna") over and over and over again. Then it was time to take Xavier to a birthday party, and THAT'S when the trouble started.

Xav: I can't get that song out of my head. "Must die! Must die! That Jesus must die!"

Gwen: Me either!

Me: Well, you better not sing it at the birthday party -- someone is liable to be offended.

Xav: But it is so hard!

Me: Let's sing something else, then.

Xav: Doe, a deer -- no, wait! Who can take a rainbow ...

Gwen (thoroughly sick of the Willy Wonka play): No!

Me: Who can take a rainbow ...

Finally, in self defense, Gwen joined in. I figured by the end of the trip that Xavier was safe.

No such luck. When I picked Xav up from the party, he told me, "Darn! I had to sing 'Hosanna' at the party, and I thought I was by myself, so I sang, 'Jesus, I am on your side, Kiss me, kiss me Jesus!' And suddenly Ian was there, and he was like. 'What?!?'"

"Oh well," I replied. "It could have been worse ..."

"Yeah," Xav replied. "I tried to explain to him about Jesus Christ Superstar, but he didn't really understand it. I expect he'll tell everyone about it, and by the time Monday rolls around, who KNOWS what they'll be saying about it? But I really don't care."

A good attitude to have, I guess, but I don't look forward to the phone calls ...

Budding Novelists

2011-09-07T04:42:00.000-07:00

I was combing Gwen's hair this morning while she and Xavier were eating breakfast. Out of the blue, she said, "My relationship with Bethany is ... interesting."

Given the abruptness of the comment, Xavier and I laughed. Then I said, "You know, that sounds like the first sentence in the first chapter of a novel ..."

Gwen said, "Yeah, a novel called My Relationship With Bethany."

"No, that would be too obvious ... it would need to be more complicated than that ..."

"Yeah," commented Xavier. "It should be something like How to Kill a Blue Jay."

(I should note that Gwen does not have a bad relationship with Bethany, just, evidently, an interesting one.)

School Daze

2011-09-02T18:51:00.000-07:00

I was looking at one of Xavier's school notebooks. The teacher had put a form on the inside to identify the student, and Xav filled it out as follows ...

NAME: Xavier Barnes

WHAT DO I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP? An Actor

WHAT SHOULD I DO TO DO WELL IN THIS CLASS? Pay attention to my posture, listen and learn.

Now, for some subjects this might be appropriate. Science? Not so much. "So, Xavier, how would you conduct this experiment?" "Well, first I better check my posture ..."

While Xav was doing his homework the other day, he commented, "You know what, Mom? It's easy to spell 'pieces' because it has 'pie' in it. Get it? A 'piece' of 'pie.'"

I agreed that it was clever, until I took a look at his math homework. At the top, I read, "Name: Pieces". What could I do? I added, "(aka Xavier)."

The kids are having sleepovers at our house tonight. I peeked in at Gwen and her friend. "Good night, girls!"

Almost without looking up from their books: "Good night, Mom." "Good night, Gwen's Mom."

Looking in at the boys, who were sitting huddled on the bed looking at Xav's Nintendo DS, I stepped in and put my hand on Xav's shoulder, playing it cool. "Good night, boys."

Xav's friend: "Good night, Xavier's Mom."

Xav: "Aa-aa-aa!"

Looking back, I saw his gesturing with his hand in a "get back over here" kind of way. "You don't think you can get away without a hug?"

I went back and hugged him. "I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your friend."

"Yeah, well, I've seen Dan here 'embarrassed' a few times. It's okay."

Sigh ... better enjoy it while I can.

Timely Message

2011-08-26T14:04:00.000-07:00

When I arrived to pick up the kids yesterday, there was a storm sweeping up. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Lightning split the horizon. Wind whipped up the raindrops that were spitting at me and turned my hair into a tangled mess (even more so than usual.)

Once inside the school, the safety patrol were donning their school-issued yellow panchos. Emboldened by the excitement of the pending storm, they were running up and down the halls at each other, yelling, "I can fly!" and "I'm Batman!" Needless to say, this undercut their air of authority somewhat.

By the time my kids had been released from their classrooms, the rain was coming down in curtains, spun into dervishes by the driving wind. In light of the fact that I had forgotten my umbrella (not that it looked like it would have done me much good even if I hadn't forgotten it), the kids and I decided to exit the school by the door that was closest to our car (which was still some distance away.) Once outside, we raced for the car, but even so, were thoroughly soaked by the time we got there.

As I started the car, Xavier shouted brightly, "WOW! They weren't kidding when they said that Irene was going to be INCREDIBLE!"

The problem? We aren't on Irene's projected path. For that matter, at the time of this event, Irene hadn't even made it to the US yet. "Um, Xav, this isn't Irene."

"It's not?"

"No, it's just a garden variety thunderstorm, kicked up by a cold front moving in."

Clearly disappointed, Xavier sighed. "What's a cold front?"

Gwen, our budding young meteorologist, was happy to tell Xavier all about cold fronts, and how thunderstorms can form when they move into warmer areas. Xavier was not, perhaps, the most attentive of listeners, because when Adam got home, Xavier greeted him with, "Hi Dad! Did you see that INCREDIBLE cold front that went through today?"

On that note, if you are in Irene's path, stay safe! And Gwen and Xav both say hi.

When Play Becomes a Chore

2011-08-06T07:08:00.000-07:00

Gwen is going through an age where some of the activities that entertained her even a few months ago are now "boring". For example, a little while ago Adam suggested that they go to the playground "now" (9:00am) so they could avoid being lathered in Sunblock (something they HATE.) The only way we could get Gwen to go was to promise her that I would call them in half an hour, when I would go with her on a walk.

Fifteen minutes later, I saw them returning to the house. I went out on the deck to see what was up.

Xavier: Gwen was afraid it would storm.

Me: But the sun is shining!

But the best part was when they came in, and Gwen said, "Xavier? Legos?" This amazed me, because Gwen NEVER asks to play Legos -- Xavier is the one always begging HER to play. But before I could ask, she followed it up with, "We might as well get it over with."

The funny thing is, at the same time Gwen is pursuing more mature pasttimes (like playing on the Wii), she is in a deep depression because she is starting to show signs of growing up. We were going through her fall clothes to see how much of her wardrobe we were going to have to replace (quite a lot, as it turns out.) To her great disappointment, one of her favorite sweaters is a bit too small.

Gwen: But I still love it!

Me: But it doesn't fit!

Gwen: It feels comfortable to me.

(Adam and I confer.)

Me: All right, Gwen, you may keep the sweater, but only if you wear it with a training bra.

The sweater is now sitting in the Good Will pile.

Babies and the Cinema

2011-07-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

We were looking at the pictures my friends Vicky and Ryan had posted of their brand-new baby boy.

Gwen: "Awwwwww ..."

Adam: "So little!"

Me: "He looks like Ryan in this picture ..."

Xavier: "My precious ... gives us the ring, my precious!"

Congratulations, Vicky and Ryan! And, no, your son does not look like Golom ...

In another esoteric cinematic reference, we were watching the Star Trek "Naked Time" episode. Sulu was running around with his shirt off and his sword drawn (a REAL sword, no sexual allusions -- this is a family blog). Suddenly he hears someone coming down the hall, so he ducks around the corner and waits ... waits ...

Suddenly, Xavier pipes up in an exaggerated French accent, "Ka-a-ato ... !?!"

Someone has been spending WAY too much time watching old Pink Panther movies.

By the way, congratulations are also in order for my friends Joel and Lorree, who ALSO just had a baby boy (evidently Xavier was wrong about the gender -- see earlier blog on that.)

Beanbag Chair

2011-06-23T03:36:00.000-07:00

The kids like to sit in the beanbag chair and play video games with Adam before bedtime sometimes. Caliban likes sleeping on the beanbag chair all the time. The past few times the kids have played with Adam, the cat has refused to be uprooted from the spot, so the three of them have shared the chair, with Gwen and Xavier jumping and thumping and working the joystick while Caliban dozes (since no one has offered him a joystick.)

All the same, the kids are getting bigger, so that chair is really getting small to hold all three of them. The kids won't take it out on the cat or make him move (although Adam thinks they should), but they do snap at each other. Last night after playing games, Xavier was sullen afterwards. "Gwen mashed my foot -- it was under the bean bag chair and she pressed down on it with all her weight."

"Xavier, will you give it a rest?" Adam groaned. "It was an accident!"

"No, it wasn't," Gwen replied coolly.

Misnomers

2011-06-22T16:39:00.000-07:00

Sigh. You know you've been an inactive blogger when you log into blogger and find that your profile picture is gone. That is just sad.

A bunch of my friends are having babies (and soon you, too, can flood the Information Superhighway with funny stories -- well, once you start sleeping again.) I noticed on Facebook that my friend Joel is expecting his first with his wife Lorree who has a five-year-old son named Ian from a previous marriage. Ian has made a lot of funny observations about the pregnancy, such as "I plan to be a daddy someday, so I think I should get presents now," and "I'm glad I'm not a girl so I can't catch pregnancy." Yep, Joel, there's a lot of bloggable material right there!

I read these posts to Adam the other morning and had a good chortle while Xavier was choking down an early breakfast before going to Cub Scout Daycamp. The Daycamp is over half an hour from town, so we have a car-pooling arrangement with the parents of three of the other boys from the pack -- Ben, Nick, and Ian.

The morning in question was our turn to drive, so after finally getting Xavier into the car, we arrived at the rendevous point a couple minutes early. Ian was there even earlier because his mother needed to take his teenaged brother somewhere and she was in a hurry. Ian, clearly drowsy, plopped down in the seat next to Xavier.

Xavier turned to Ian, and said casually, "So ... I hear your mom is having a girl."

Ian (not Lorree's Ian) started bolt upright and cried, "WHAAAAAAT?!?" Fear of another sibling is clearly more invigorating than a double expresso.

I wonder if hinting at the arrival of another child would help wake my husband up in the morning.

PS Joel, I have no idea where Xavier got the idea that you guys are having a girl (of course, he has a 50% chance of being right.) Still, I wanted to make that observation before rumors get started ...

Perspectives

2011-06-15T16:58:00.000-07:00

Xavier seems very mature for an eight-year-old sometimes ... then again, sometimes not so much.

He has taken to reading Adam's cast-off "Funny Times" magazines (against his mother's somewhat Victorian better judgment -- nothing like having your son ask you to explain a cartoon about a woman who ends up causing all her lovers to have heart attacks), and it turns out that this has proven educational in ways I hadn't expected.

"Those Gawps are hysterical!" he laughed one night. "How stupid do they think we are?"

"Who?" we asked.

"The Gawps!"

"Who?!?"

Impatiently now. "The GAWPS!"

"How do you spell it?"

"G-O-P."

We explained that G.O.P. stood for the Republican party. He pondered this for a minute. "Then why are the cartoonists all Democrats?"

Today I took him to the endocrinologist (everyone there gushed about how cute he was. I told them that was why we were there.) Afterwards, rather than take him to the babysitter's, which was a little out of our way, I took him with me back to the office. While we were there, one of my coworkers, Brad, stopped in to answer some questions I'd emailed him.

When we picked Gwen up today, we were talking about scheduling because both kids have camp but at different times. "Do you want to go to the babysitter's, Gwen, or would you rather come to work with me while you aren't in camp?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Aw, Gwen, you should go to work with Mom!" Xavier said. "You get to drink all the soda you want, you can draw on the white board, and talk on the phone to Dad. Also, this guy came while I was there, his name was Brad, and he has a nose earring that was so little that at first I thought it was a little silver pimple ..." Yeah, silver pimple -- just the look Brad was going for, I'm sure.

And -- for the record -- I only bought him one can of soda.

Shutdown

2011-04-07T16:53:00.001-07:00

Since the House and Senate can't come to an agreement on a budget, this blog will be shutdown as of 12:01 Saturday morning. Just kidding! Although, now that I think about it, given my level of inactivity, you may have already thought it was shut down.

On the flip side, upon hearing that national parks will close on Saturday morning, Gwen started to panic. "Does that mean the Cascades will close?"

"Yes."

"The Blue Ridge Parkway?!?"

"Well, it seems to be closed a lot of the time anyway, but yes."

"SURF AND SOUND REALTY?!?!?!"

"Uh, no, Surf and Sound is a commercial entity."

Gwen visibly relaxed. Our trip to the beach is safe.

Sibling rivalry takes many forms. Gwen is approaching the ripe old age of ten, and, as a result of things that are mostly happening to other people (her friends), we've had to spend a lot of time doing "Girl Talk." You know what I mean -- discussing various facets of growing up.

The other day, I went to the health food store; Gwen stayed home, but Xav tagged along. As we were buckling up, Xavier asked, "Mommy, since Gwen isn't here, can we do some 'Boy Talk'?"

Since I'm technically a female, at least last I checked, I felt a little awkward in the role of 'adult educator' for my eight-year-old son. "Well, um, wouldn't you rather talk to Daddy about 'Boy Talk'?"

Wounded look. "No, I want to talk 'Boy Talk' with you. Now."

"Ummm, okay. So, uh, did you want to talk about puberty?"

"Naah, I'm not as anxious about that as Gwen is. How 'bout we talk about soccer? Or maybe about making cupcakes?"

Whew! What a relief ... as long as we are not playing soccer with cupcakes.

My Job Is So Hard ...

2011-02-28T16:10:00.000-08:00

While I was researching Gene Prediction for my Journal Club meeting tomorrow, Xavier plopped down next to me to see what I was reading (I think he was hoping for YouTubes.

After a second, Xavier gave a long sigh. "Poor Mommy, your job must be really hard. Heck, this isn't even written in English!"

The sad part is -- it was written in English. And I'm still not sure I understand it any better than he did.

Minimalistic Conversation

2011-02-27T08:54:00.000-08:00

Gwen and Xavier's teachers say that they have advanced vocabularies. What I wonder is, how can they tell?

Xavier: Gwen? Soccer?

Gwen: Homework.

Xavier: Mom, play?

Me: What play?

Xavier: Legos?

Xavier: Mom? Milk?

Me: In a minute, Xav.

Xavier (ten seconds later): Mom? Milk? Remember?

Me: Gwen, how was school today?

Gwen: Good.

Me: What did you do?

Gwen: Work.

Gwen: I'm worried.

Me: Why?

Gwen: Because.

Me: Because why?

Gwen: Dunno.

Xavier (reading the blog): Mommy? Down?

Me: Do you mean you want me to scroll down, or put you down?

Xavier: Scroll down.

Gwen: What?

Advanced vocubularies, eh? Just sayin' ...

The Sins of the Parents

2011-02-26T05:07:00.000-08:00

I hope everyone is well! Xavier is mostly recovered from the flu, and the rest of us are holding our breaths, hoping we don't catch it. But so far, so good!

We're going over the finer points of language at our house these days, as well as keeping promises, and being aware of other people's feelings. We have this conversation almost every day:

Xavier: Gwen, when?

Me: When what?

Xavier: When is she going to play Legos with me?

Me: Xav, your sister does not want to play Legos all the time -- you need to learn to like playing Legos on your own.

Xavier: But she said she would do it after she finished (insert whatever activity here).

Me: Gwen, did you say that?

Gwen: Well, yes, but ...

Me: Well, then, you should have told him you didn't want to play with him in the first place -- go play Legos with him.

Gwen: Grrr! (Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!)

And a good time is not had by all. Sometimes I wonder, "When the heck will Gwen learn to say 'no' instead of putting her brother off? Why do we do this again and again?"

But then I remember THIS conversation that Adam and I have over and over again (this week, in fact) ...

Xavier: Cough! Cough! Cough!

Me: (Sniff! Sniff!) Are you cooking (insert aromatic food like onions or bacon)?

Adam: Yes.

Me: Adam, you can't cook that when Xavier is sick -- you know it sets off his asthma!

Adam: Grrr! (Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!) Well, I guess I should just forget about cooking entirely when Xavier is sick!

... so evidently the kids come by it naturally.

The indoor soccer season is winding down. The indoor soccer program did not include practices, but Xavier's "regular season" coach offered to coach practices on Fridays, and I think Xav enjoyed the practices more than the games.

Gwen was also allowed to participate in the practices. She was always really psyched about going, but the practices also always ended in tears because almost all the other players were aggressive little boys, and Gwen is not aggressive. Since she wasn't willing to break into the fray and steal the ball, and eight-year-old boys aren't big on passing the ball at all, let alone to girls, she got very little "ball" time and she'd take it personally.

At one of the recent practices, Xavier noticed that Gwen was upset. He tried to pass her the ball a couple of times, but she usually didn't notice in time and someone else would get the ball. Finally Xavier screamed (so loudly that EVERYONE in the soccer gym could hear it), "PASS GWEN THE BALL! WHAT THE HECK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU GUYS?!?!"

Xavier may be small, but he has presence. After that, the other kids ALL passed the ball to Gwen, and one of the boys even gave her a high-five after she made a goal.

He's such a good little brother -- even if he is always bugging her to play Legos.

Happy Holidays!

2010-12-16T16:52:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm sorry to have to report some very sad news this holiday season: the kids are no longer funny.

Kidding! But it sounded better than the usual: too busy, too tired, blahblahblah, so I thought I would spare you. It is after all the Holidays!

No, the kids and I have been plenty busy. Our New Year's Resolution (well, mine, anyway) is not to sign up for as much next semester. One exciting thing the kids did this semester was to participate in a weekly drama group for kids which culminated in a production of the Christmas Carol last weekend. The kids had a great time, although one of the high points was the night they got their parts.

Gwen, with a level of excitement that can only be achieved by a child (or a grown man who has discovered that his junky old car is really a spaceship in disguise), announced, "I have one of the best parts, Mom! I get to play SCROOGE'S MAID!"

"Scrooge's maid?" I replied, searching my memory trying to remember if Scrooge even had a maid. It seemed like an expenditure Scrooge would have bypassed if he could.

"Yes! And guess what? I get to SELL HIS BED CURTAINS WHEN HE DIES!" she chuckled sinisterly.

"Wow," I said appreciatively, realizing what character she was talking about. "Pretty creepy! The maid took the curtains off his bed while his dead body was still lying in it." (I remember the creepy parts.)

"She did?" Gwen asked, surprised. Then, "They didn't mention that. Ick."

"And guess who I get to play?" Xavier chimed in. "I have TWO parts."

"Who?"

"I get to play FEZZIWIG!" (Scrooge's boss from the Past, in case you don't have the Christmas Carol memorized, as I certainly didn't.)

"Okay, cool. And who else?"

"MYSELF!" It turns out that in the production they were in, the Christmas Carol was a play within the a play, and in an outer "shell" play, a group of kids were walking home from school and discussing the book.

Anyway, the director stressed over and over that the kids (all of them, not just mine) needed to be LOUD and exuberant on stage, because there was a tendency to be quiet and a little wooden onstage. Apparently, no one took this to heart like Xavier did. In the beginning shell play, the dialogue went something like this (note punctuation -- it is accurate):

One girl: What are you talking about.

Another girl: We're talking about the Christmas Carol.

Xavier (set volume to 10): I LOVE CHRISTMAS CAROLS!!!!!! (entire audience, as well as the kids onstage, flinch) CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE!!!!!!

Evidently Xavier got the impression that he went overboard on the loud, because the first thing he asked when we met him after the play was, "Was I good loud, or TOO loud?"

Two nights later, we went to the post-production Cast Party, which was about as you would imagine a post-production Cast Party to be, except with more children's games and no alcohol (so, really, not much like an authentic cast party at all.) One game the kids played was called Bus Stop, where the kids took turns sitting at the bus stop in pairs and each kid picked a character from a story to play (ie, Cinderella, Austin Powers, etc.)

When it was Xavier's turn, the dialogue went something like this:

Cinderella: Hi, my name is Cinderella. What is your name?

Xavier: MY NAME IS XAVIER!

Cinderella: I like going to balls and dancing. What do you like to do?

Xavier: I LOVE CHRISTMAS CAROLS!!!!!

I hope the director is more careful what she wishes for in the future -- Xavier signed up to be in Dramatic Mondays again NEXT semester.

Adult Education

2010-09-22T20:01:00.000-07:00

I may have used this title before, but oh well.

The move is behind us (though we still have boxes), it took us a mere THREE WEEKS to get Internet access to the house, and now is the first time I've gotten to blog in over a month. Sigh. But we do love the new place -- the kids like it so much that no one has asked about the Wii we promised them if we managed to sell the old house. Playing outside (and getting eaten alive by mosquitos) has become an important part of our daily routine.

Anyway ...

The kids also started school. Gwen is in the fourth grade now (hard to believe she was four when I started this blog, eh?) If you've been following along in the news, you may have heard the report that the average age for girls to enter puberty has been falling. One of Gwen's classmates fell into that category, and needless to say, Gwen had a LOT of questions that I won't go into here. Suffice it to say that I was fairly thorough in what she can expect, because, Lord knows, I want her to be informed and not afraid, not to mention not pregnant (although she still thinks guys are icky -- yay!)

If you have been following my life outside of the blog, you also know that I have been going through a lot of stress lately that I again won't go into here (although I will solicit tips on how to unstress an old cat in a new house, if that lets you in on part of it.) Yesterday was an especially stressful day, and I was sitting at the table, venting to Adam (no, he is not part of the problem) and Gwen reached out her little hand and placed it on mine.

"Poor Mommy," she said soothingly. "I'm sorry you have so much stress."

"Well, thank you, Gwen," I said. "I'm sure it will get better soon."

She patted my hand gently and said knowingly. "It will. Is it your time of the month?"

(Insert needle scratching off the record here).

"What?!? NO! No, honey, not even close!" I wasn't angry, mind, just stunned.

Adam, who was a little more articulate than I was, said, "No, honey, Mommy just has a lot to worry about right now."

"Like what?" Gwen asked.

"Like the cat," Adam replied.

"What?!? NO!" I exclaimed again. For the record, I am just a little worried about the cat, but I worry more about Gwen worrying about the cat.

I know, I said it was my last post before the move, but ...

2010-08-13T04:01:00.000-07:00

I had a couple of miscellaneous one-liners to share.

We went to a child's birthday party at the local roller rink a couple of weeks ago. The kids had a great time, but the music was REALLY loud.

A couple days later, we were listening to Adam's iPod while eating dinner and Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" came on. A look of confusion crossed Xavier's face, and he said, "Dad, this is on your iPod?"

Adam said, "Yep."

Xavier said, "But they played this at the roller rink -- this is YOUNG music."

(This one is a little esoteric, so if you have not heard "Bad Romance," you may not get this.) My kids have not seen any Lady Gaga videos, but they have heard "Bad Romance" on Adam's iPod and the roller rink. The other day they came in and said, "Look, Mom, we're Baby Gaga!" They started dancing as they began chanting, "Gaga -Wa! Wa! Wa-ah! Gaga - Wa! Wa! Wa-ah!"

I picked Xavier up and gave him a hug a couple days ago, and said, "Sorry, son, but I have to enjoy this while I still can!"

"Yeah, because, before you know it, I will be a hulking teenager," he replied.

Last night, Xavier called me into the bathroom where he was having his bath. His head was covered with soap bubbles (bubble bath), and he had made a lego spider that he had perched on his nose. "Get it off! Get it off!" he begged while making a funny face.

"Oh, Xav," I replied, "You are a hoot. If you weren't in the tub, I would take your picture."

"Why don't you?"

"Because I still want you to be speaking to me when you are a hulking teenager."

OK, that's it! Signing off for a few days! Wish us luck (especially having our walk-through on Friday the 13th!)

Let's Drive Into the Brave New World

2010-08-12T03:59:00.000-07:00

We'll be moving from the current "House of Wind and Sky" this Saturday. We don't know yet if the new house will also be a "House of Wind and Sky" -- we kind of liked the idea of coming up with a new name, but we have a sign, and we have been trying to sell the more sentimental among us (Gwen) on the idea that a house is just a house, and it is the family that makes it a home.

Convincing her is another story. Even though Gwen is an enthusiastic advocate for the move (she's packed more boxes than I have -- it'll be interesting to see what the mortality rate is in those boxes, since a lot of her packing has been done without supervision), she occasionally comes up with observations seemingly out of left field:

o "I can't pack that cabinet -- there are pictures of Grendel in there."

o "We may be together, but all my dead pets will be here."

o "What if I get tired of the woods behind the new house? Will we move to find new ones?"

o "I can't say I know this house like the back of my hand because I don't know the back of my hand very well. I'll have to know it like the front of my head."

Xavier, on the other hand is revelling in found treasures, like "The Tick Omnibus." All the same, he has his own ambivalance about the move.

Xavier: I'm going to Deniz's house on the day after tomorrow, right?

Me: Right. Going to Deniz's house while the truck is packed.

Xavier: That means it is Thursday, right?

Me: Right.

Xavier: Who is our babysitter today? And do we have a swimming lesson?

Me: No babysitter -- Daddy is staying home to pack. And the swimming teacher is on vacation, so no swimming lesson.

Xavier: (sighing) I want my life back.

As for Caliban (the Cat) he took to hiding right after his beloved papazon chair and green sofa went the way of the garage sale, so I was a little concerned about him. But last night he had emerged and was napping on a stack of yet-to-be-packed boxes, so I think he will be just fine.

I won't wax nostalgic about our "old" house -- we've had good times here, but we've had some bad times here, and if it were perfect (for us) we wouldn't be moving. But we'll be happy in the new place, as we were here, because we will all be together.

So long! Next time I log in, it will be from the new house!

Oh, and Gwen wanted me to post her new poem before I sign off. She wrote it during the thunderstorm last night:

Thunderstorm

Lightning creates a fireworks
display we won't wait for
every year,

Thunder rumbles and roars
as if a kind of cheer

I stare just out my window
wondering how and why,

People don't like thunderstorms
a wonder in the sky.

She's definitely a better poet than I was at her age.

The Buzz About the Green Hornet

2010-07-22T04:12:00.001-07:00

When Uncle Matt was here, he downloaded the Green Hornet theme onto Adam's iPod. Now, if you aren't familiar with the Green Hornet theme, it sounds kind of like Flight of the Bumblebee if it were played by a hyperactive trumpet player after a gallon of expresso.

Anyway, yesterday Adam and the kids were listening to the song, and Xavier said, "You know, this does not sound like a superhero theme."

"Oh, this is the music for the chase scenes," Adam replied.

Xavier started bopping to the music (he may not be a trumpet player, but he has hyperactive down pat), when the music suddenly slowed into something slightly more mellow.

Xavier made a face. "This doesn't sound like a chase scene -- this sounds like the Green Hornet is waiting on the side of the road for a mechanic to fix his tire."

Adam replied, "No, this is the love theme, you know, where the hero is romancing the lady."

Gwen chimed in, "Or maybe he is romancing the car mechanic."

(This post was proofread by Editor Xavier.)

Topsy-Turvy

2010-07-20T04:04:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was an emotional day. As some of you know, we have been trying to sell our house since early March in an attempt to move into a smaller home in a neighborhood with more amenities. No, we're not retiring; on the contrary, we're busier than ever, which makes the time we can spend with our kids that much more precious, so less home maintenance plus convenient playground, soccer field, and walking trails seemed a natural progression.

June 30th we received a viable offer on our house; through negotiations, we were able to come to agreement on a contract by the end of July 1st. June 30th was also the day we said goodbye to our dear 17-year-old cat Grendel; she had been declining for a couple of months, and although our veterinarian and the Vet school had been unable to find a definitive reason for her decline, it was clear that the testing was taking its toll, she was hiding most of the time, and she had stopped eating. Needless to say, the coincidence of the two events robbed the first event of some of the excitement it might have had.

Well, our "viable offer" turned out to be a Pandora's box. The dialogue that went on over the past three weeks could be summarized as follows:

Us: Where is the home inspection report?

Them: We're working on it.

Us: Where is the home inspection report? You're late!

Them: We're working on it.

Them: OK, we've reviewed the report, and we want a new roof, a new water heater, and new floors in the attic.

Us: What the -- No! The home inspection report doesn't say anything about replacing these items. We'll repair the safety items.

Them: OK, then fix the safety items, plus give us (Dr. Evil finger by the corner of the mouth) ONE MILLION DOLLARS! (Slight exaggeration).

Us: No. You've had our final offer -- take it or leave it.

Them: OK, then we want FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS and a home warranty?

Us: No. You've had our final offer -- take it or leave it.

Them: OK, we really want the money. Give us the money for the repairs instead of doing them.

Us: OK, fine.

Them: And fix these additional items.

Us: NO!

We probably would have walked away except then we would have to pay their expenses so far, and we didn't really want to do that. So, we've been trying to prepare the kids for the possibility that we were not moving:

Us: Well, if don't move, maybe we can go to Great Wolf Lodge before the end of the summer.

Xav: Yay! Oh, wait -- that means I need to learn to swim.

Gwen: If we DO move, how long will it be before we can afford to go to Great Wolf Lodge?

Yesterday morning, I went to pick up Grendel's ashes at the Veterinary Clinic where we said goodbye to her three weeks ago. I went without the kids, but they knew what it was when I got home and started tearing up. Massive oversimplification:

Kids: Grendel!

Me: Great Wolf Lodge!

Kids: Yay!

Then, last night, while the kids were in the tub, we got the call from our real estate agent -- our buyer had finally agreed to remove the home inspection contingency so we could continue with the sale of our home. I was pondering how I was going to tell the kids, when the phone rang. It was my brother.

Ez: Hey, what's happening with the house?

Me: We just got word -- they've signed off on the home inspection.

Ez: So you're moving?

Me: Yep, we're moving.

Kids (just out of the tub): We're moving?!? HOORAY!

Gwen (bursting into tears): Grendel would have loved the new house!

Yes, I can see that we're in for quite a ride over the next month, but hopefully things will only get better from here. I think when all is said and done, we'll be happy in our new home. I think a conversation we had at dinner summed things up pretty well ...

Gwen (tearfully): Dad, I'm worried we'll forget something when we move.

Adam: Oh, it'll be okay, honey. It's much easier to spot things you might have overlooked when the house is empty. Just before we'll move, we'll go through the house for a final look, and say, "Oh, right, there's something we missed -- come on, Caliban, let's go."

Kids: Giggle-giggle!

(For the less-informed, Caliban is our 14-year-old cat. We've been asked how Caliban is dealing with Grendel's death, and, sadly, we think he is enjoying his status as spoiled, only cat. Grendel and Caliban never warmed to each other, and by midday July 1st Caliban was well on his way to reclaiming the prime sleeping places he had been forced to vacate by the more aggressive Grendel.)

The Real Hero of the Story

2010-07-12T18:34:00.000-07:00

Spoiler alert: If you are reading the Percy Jackson series (starts with the Lightning Thief and ends with the Last Olympian) and don't want to know how it all ends, stop reading now.

The kids and I have been reading the Percy Jackson series (read the spoiler alert above if you want to know what books are in it) as part of our bedtime ritual. This chronicles the adventures of Percy Jackson who, as the son of Poseidon, is one of a group of children called "Half Bloods" or "Demigods" who are the offspring of the mythological gods with mortals. I know, it sounds a little racy, but if you read the Greek myths (as many children do), they didn't exactly take place in a convent.

Anyway, Percy Jackson is kind of like a modern-day Hercules, and we are about two-thirds of the way through the fifth and final book. Like the last Harry Potter book (oops! another spoiler alert!), people -- and half-bloods and mythological creatures -- are dropping like flies, and the kids were getting a little apprehensive about how this is all going to end.

When we called bedtime, I caught Gwen trying to smuggle the book to her room. I took it back and said, "No reading ahead! It's not fair!"

"I wasn't, Mommy!" she replied, but it didn't escape my notice that she didn't tell me what she planned to do.

"Besides, Daddy is reading the book," I added. "I don't want him to have to go looking for it."

"I've already finished it," Adam replied.

"You have?" Xavier asked. "Does it have a happy ending?"

"You want me to spoil the ending?" Adam asked jokingly. "Yes, it has a happy ending."

"Does anyone die?" Gwen asked anxiously.

"Well, sure," Adam replied.

"Who?!?" the kids asked.

"Monsters, titans, Kronos ... you know, bad guys."

"But do any more good guys die?"

Trying to get Adam off the hook a little, I said, "Well, Percy Jackson is the narrator -- you know he can't die."

"What about Grover?" Xavier pressed.

"Yeah, what about Grover?"

Adam hesitated. "Grover makes it to the end."

"What about Annabeth?" Xavier asked.

Adam hesitated again. "Well, okay, Annabeth lives, too."

"What about --"

Exasperated, Adam said, "All of the 'good' major characters make it to the end of the book. See? Now I've gone and spoiled the ending."

This was followed by a momentary silence, then the kids started applauding. "Yay! Yay for Daddy!"

I don't think they could have been more excited had Adam announced he was Poseidon himself.

Slacking

2010-07-11T09:05:00.000-07:00

Actually, it has been a pretty busy summer. But I always say that.

We went to go visit my parents over July 4th weekend, and my brother Ez and niece Chloe were also there. We haven't gotten to see Chloe very much lately -- Ez and his wife are separated and they are going through a custody dispute, so it was nice to have the opportunity to see her again.

Since I don't get to see her very much, I write her postcards, and it occurred to me that she might like to be able to write to her father, cousins, grandparents, or even Adam and me, just to keep in touch. I bought her a book of postcards, postcard stamps, and a small address book so she had the flexibility of being able to write to friends or relatives whenever she wanted.

On Friday, Gwen received a postcard from Chloe, and I include the text of it here because I found it endearing:

Dear Gwen,

how are you? I am doing fine. How are your hermen crabs? How old are the hermen crabs. I Really miss you! What did you eat for supper? Happy fourth of July! I Say That beacase I Am Going home for fourth of July

Love Chloe

She also wrote "Go Gwen Go b***** famly" on the front of the card. It was very sweet, and a little bittersweet, since we don't know when the cousins will see each other again. We hope it is soon, Chloe!

We got to see the other cousins this weekend (the ones on Adam's side of the family.) It was great to see Riley and Piper again. Riley really took to the piano, by which I don't mean he is a prodigy, but that he LOVED to play with it. Our piano is an electric piano, so he played one of the demo tunes with adventure sounds (like sirens, etc., to show off the special effects capability of the piano) over and over again -- I began to feel like we were experiencing a major crime wave!) He also liked using the thunderclap effects to play the bum-bum-BUM percussion of the "Go Bulls" theme that he'd heard at Durham Bulls ballgames (for those who don't know this theme, it sounds just like Queen's "We Will Rock You" that seems to be the hallmark of all sporting events.) It was cute and funny, but after awhile that bum-bum-BUM seemed to be pulsing through my head -- a little too repetitive, if you know what I mean.

This morning, Riley was up before everyone else, but his parents put the kibosh on piano playing until after breakfast. Riley finished his breakfast in record time (to be honest, I'm not sure he really ate more than a bite or two), and he approached the adult table and said, kind of like a maitre de at a fancy restaurant, "May I impress you as you eat your breakfast?"

His father replied with a laugh, "I'm not sure I think you rate 'impressive' just yet, but let's wait until everyone else is done eating."

Xavier Improvs

2010-05-01T18:29:00.000-07:00

Xavier is going to play a spider in the first grade play, Goin' Buggy. He was kind of proud of that at first, until he saw his costume -- evidently the spider's big abdomen makes him feel like he has a big behind.

Anyway, Adam was trying to take him through his lines today, but Xavier was distracted and kept playing around on the sofa, saying his lines into the sofa cushion, and playing with Bionicle toys. Adam was getting frustrated with him, and was trying to keep him on target.

Finally, Adam got to this point in the script:

Adam (as Miss Muffet):
Get Away! Get Away! Get away from my tuffet!
I don't want your friendship! Just keep it and stuff it!
Just looking at you makes me want to shriek!
The perfect word for you is
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

Xavier (as Spider):
Can anyone tell me what I did wrong?
Was I rude or pushy when I came along?

Adam (as ALL BUGS):
No! No! No! No!

Xavier was supposed to say, "Did I have a single word to say? Did I even hint for a taste of whey?" but instead ...

Xavier (as Spider, rapping to the tune of "Baby got Back"):
It's 'cause I have a big butt and I cannot lie
And you other little bugs can't deny
It's 'cause my butt's so big when I fall down
It cracks the ground all around ...

Adam was struggling so hard not to laugh, because he knew that would encourage Xavier when he was trying to rein him in, but he couldn't do it. (I should add that, as far as I know, Xavier has never heard Sir Mix-a-lot's "Baby Got Back" except for a couple lines from the post-production Dance Party on the movie Shrek. Of course, if you are completely unfamiliar with this song, then you might not find this as amusing.)

Ironically, Xav's been tagged for the Gifted and Talented program at his school, and we are supposed to find two projects that demonstrate his talent (no small feat when everything is in storage because your house is for sale, and you are not supposed to pick work done at school.) Somehow, though, although this shows creativity and pretty good, um, rapping (or rhyming) skills, I think this one is going to be kind of hard to turn in.

Public Service Announcement

2010-05-01T04:32:00.000-07:00

Another recall, this time for Children's Tylenol, Motrin, and Zyrtec, oh my: http://www.mcneilproductrecall.com/page.jhtml?id=/include/new_recall.inc

Back to the Future

2010-05-01T04:02:00.000-07:00

Wow, I haven't posted in over a month. We've been pretty busy, I guess -- Gwen had a tonsilectomy and adenoidectomy, our house has been for sale (and still is), work has been demanding (but it is better to be busy than idle), and Xavier is obsessed with Legos (so no change there.)

We watched "Back to the Future" last night with the kids. We thought it was perhaps a little advanced for the kids (at least, some of the boy-girl relationship undertones), but Christopher Lloyd (Dr. Brown) is usually funny at any age, and there were some cool special effects (but it is amazing how cheesy some of them look now.) If you need a reminder of the plot synopsis, teenager Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) ends up taking his friend Dr. Brown's time machine back to 1955 when his parents were teenagers, and his arrival threatens his own future because his mother falls in love with him instead of with his geeky, loser father. He has to get things back on track before it is TOO LATE.

Well, it didn't take too long for Gwen to decide the movie was too scary, so she pretended to do origamy while still secretly watching. Xavier was laughing almost nonstop, and both kids want to watch the next two movies.

As Xavier was tidying his room close to bedtime, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, so that movie was about Tom Peeper?"

"Who?" (My mind races trying to remember a character named Tom -- there was a Marty, a George, a Lorraine, a Biff ...)

"You know, Tom Peeper? The guy who was up in the tree looking in windows with binoculars?"

"Ohhh ..." Shortly after Marty gets back, he catches his teenage father up in a tree watching a woman through a window. "You mean Peeping Tom, not Tom Peeper, and that was a description of George McFly was doing, not his name. What about him?"

Xavier's brow furrowed a little. "One thing I didn't understand ... why was he doing that?"

Why doesn't he ever ask his father these kinds of questions? "Well, he was hoping to see a naked girl."

Xavier's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Well, it may be hard for you to believe right now, but teenaged boys like to look at naked girls. I'd better not ever catch you being a peeping Tom, though, or you'll be in big trouble," I added quickly.

His eyebrows rose even higher on his forehead, and he looked somewhat disgusted.

Feeling like something else was indicated, but not sure what he was waiting for, I said, "Unless you are a gay teenaged boy, and then you might like to look at naked men."

Now Xavier looked thoroughly disgusted, and I thought his eyebrows were about to pop off his forehead. Finally, he shook his head unbelievingly and said in a tone of awe-struck disdain, "Teenagers are really wacky!"

I don't think I could say it better myself.

Weird Science

2010-03-18T19:47:00.000-07:00

My college roommate (from 20 years ago) came to town for a few days to attend the Engineering Expo, and I got to spend the day with her eight-year-old daughter Hannah. After lunch, I decided to take her hiking at a local pond where I often take my kids to hike.

The pond is full of wildlife -- ducks, fish, turtles ... and Canada geese. You may recall me posting about said geese before ... these geese, though wild, can be fairly chummy with people if they think you have food to share. As a result, if they see people coming toward the pond, they will approach and honk for a handout, usually keeping a safe distance. In the blog entry, I mentioned that Gwen was afraid of the "goose mafia," but we've probably been to this pond hundreds of times, and never had a close encounter with a goose --

Until today. Actually, we did not have a close encounter with a goose, it was more of a "close enough" encounter. As Hannah and I walked down the path that passes over the dam between the pond and the swamp, we encountered a number of geese, but one pair approached us with considerable alacrity. Hannah, who had grown accustomed to the familiarity of the geese, asked if it would be okay to give them gum, but as I refused (and these geese closed with us) I saw that they were not honking but hissing at us. I figured this was a bad sign, and suggested we take a convenient fork in the path.

The geese continued to follow us, but now they seemed satisfied to keep pace with us, continuing to hiss at us but not closing. I guess my continual glancing over my shoulder tipped Hannah off that all was not well, and we picked up the pace a little, the geese speeding up to match our speed. Still, they seemed to be calming down a little, and so was I, when suddenly, out of the brush to our right emerged ... two more Canada geese.

Hannah instinctively threw her arm out to wave these newcomers away, but while this new pair did not seem to notice (or fright) at this movement, one of the geese behind us REALLY started booking down the path toward us. I was moving toward Hannah, prepared to yank her into the air, when the goose whipped past us, hissing and flapping its wings, and launched itself at one of the geese that had just joined us. It turned into a battle in the air as the two geese flew out, squawking, over the water.

Hannah and I were a lot less casual about Canada geese for the rest of the trip. It figures that it is only when I am bringing someone else's kid out here that something bizarre like this happens. I still have no idea what excited those two Canada geese so -- the only thing I can think is that they had a nest nearby. Any ideas?

We attended the science fair with Gwen (and Hannah and my college roommate in tow) this evening. Gwen did a great job -- probably her best presentation ever (it was a study comparing Solar and Wind energy. She definitely attracted the attention of the judges, and was one of the last kids to pack up their trifold display and leave.

As we headed to the car, I relayed to Adam that Gwen had been so overrun with viewers that at one point, when I told her the judges has been delayed, she said, "Thank goodness -- I need time to catch my breath!" just as another judge (not one of hers) came and talked to her for a quite awhile ... until her judges came.

Gwen commented upon hearing this, "I didn't mind -- I liked talking to the judges. Especially the guys!" Uh-oh.

When we got home, though, Gwen starting playing psychological games that I didn't know she knew. Somewhere she had picked up on the fact that the principal would be calling the parents of the winners. I was not surprised when we got the call -- I was kind of expecting it -- but the principal stressed that this was supposed to be a secret. Oh boy.

As Gwen finished her shower, she said, "I bet the principal calls at midnight and you guys will be like, 'Ack! Why are you calling so late?'"

I just shrugged and smiled. But then I foresaw a problem -- she would definitely ask in the morning if we had gotten the call. If we said, "No," she would have an (unwarrented) meltdown. If we said, "Yes," then she would probably reveal that she knew the secret because she would be so jubilant.

Trying to head this off at the pass, I said, "You know, Gwen, if we do get the call, we're not supposed to tell you. It's supposed to be a secret."

"A secret?" she replied. "Well, at least you can tell me if you do NOT get a call."

"Um, no, I don't think I can."

"I don't care if it is a secret if I win ... but if I lose, I want to know at home so I don't get upset in front of my friends."

Well, it is hard to argue with logic like that. Strangely enough, if I had not gotten a call, I would have prepared her in advance. But having gotten a call, I didn't want to spoil the beginning of her day by telling her she lost (even though it wasn't true), but to tell her she won would spoil the secret.

Too complicated! Only eight years old, and already a master of mind games.

This is not about the kids, but it is kind of funny. We sold our old car a week ago, but our new car is not in yet. We were told it MIGHT be in by the 22nd.

Anyway, I expected the principal to call last night, so when the phone rang, I hurried to answer it before the kids noticed.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mandy? This is Julie, from the Honda dealership. Your car is in!"

"Oh --"

Beep! (Call waiting -- another call!)

" -- great." How can I get this woman off the phone?

"Yes, I was really happy to get the car in a few days."

Beep!

"Um, yeah, Julie, it is great! Can you hold on for just a sec?"

"Uh, yeah, okay."

(Click the receiver to switch lines.)

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is the principal from your daughter's school. I'm calling to let you know she won one of the science fair awards for the third grade!"

"Oh, great!"

"Anyway, you need to keep it a secret, blahblahblah ..." Oh, gosh, I don't want Julie to hang up on me -- how can I get this woman off the phone?

"blahblahblah ... but it would be nice if her parents could attend."

"Uh, yeah, sure, what time?"

"Well, we'll start at 8:55 ..."

"Okay, great! Thanks!"

"Uh, you're welcome ..."

"Goodbye!"

"Goodbye ..."

Click the receiver, switch back to Julie.

"Julie, hello. So, about the car ..."

I bet both women ending up hanging up the phone thinking, "What the hell is WRONG with that woman? Here I called her with good news, and ..."

Child Labor

2010-03-14T10:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Xavier had a friend over. We'll call him Mark.

Whereas Xavier is obsessed with Legos, Mark likes to play outside. As a result, it was not uncommon for Mark to come ask to help me muck out the flowerbeds, and when I'd ask Mark where Xavier was, he's say, "Playing with legos someplace."

Finally Xavier came outside to play with Mark. They rode their bikes in the driveway (and the lawn, when they thought they could get away with it), they ran around throwing legos at each other, all while I was clearing the ancient mulch out of the flowerbed.

At some point, I was dimly aware that they'd gone into the backyard. I didn't think much about it at first, but then I noticed that whenever I could hear their voices, I could also hear a mechanized ch-ch-ch sound. "I wonder what that is," I thought. After awhile, I became more curious. "Xavier doesn't have a remote controlled toy that could weather the yard," I thought. "It's not like either boy has an automated car or an ATV ..."

Finally, my curiosity got the better of me and I went to look. The two boys were pushing my reel mower back and forth across the yard. The reel mower is probably too much for either one of the boys, but while Matthew -- the taller -- pushed on the regular handle, Xavier -- the shorter -- pushed on the support brace halfway down from the handle. They looked pretty funny doing it.

When they spotted me, Xavier cried, "Look, Mom! We're mowing the grass so you don't have to!"

Never mind that it is March and the grass looks like it should be in intensive care; it's the thought that counts.

The Importance of Gooder English

2010-02-25T17:06:00.000-08:00

Xavier has a cold. Today when he came home from school, I asked him, "How is your cold? Is it better?"

"Yes!" he said, taking off his shoes. "And when I say that, I mean I am better, not my cold, which is badder. Which is to say, that my cold is getting better, but it is not doing good."

Did you catch that?

I gave Gwen a hug the other day, and said, "Gwen, I think about you all the time."

"Really?" she asked. "Even when I'm asleep and you are watching TV with Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Even when you are riding your bike to work?"

"Yes."

"Even when you are working on a hard problem at work?"

"Yes."

"Even when you are messing around with that Jackie Chan guy?"

(Insert needle being pulled off the record here.)

"What?! Who?!"

"You know, that Jackie Chan guy. The guy Xavier said looked like Jackie Chan."

"You mean, Mr. Jian? The guy I work with?"

"Yeah. Do you think about me when you are messing around with him?"

"You mean 'working', right? There's a big difference between 'working' and 'messing around.' I don't 'mess around' with Mr. Jian."

"Do you think about me then?"

"Yes."

Gwen had me download Google Earth. The free version has images from February 1st, 2007. We looked at Grammy and Grandpa's house. I don't know where Grandpa was going on February 1, 2007, but he's going somewhere because we see his van heading out of the driveway. Hope he had a nice time!

Three people can keep a secret if two of them are dead

2010-02-07T19:39:00.000-08:00

Spoiler Alert! If you have not read the Harry Potter series, there are some plot points revealed below that you may not want revealed if you plan to read the books. Of course, if you have not read the books, you may not understand this post a lot anyway.

The kids have been working their ways through the Harry Potter books. The first three went by quickly enough -- Gwen reading to herself, Xavier asking Adam or me to read them out loud. When we told them that someone dies in the fourth book, Gwen held back, but seeing that Xavier was listening, she persevered and finished "Goblet of Fire" anyway.

Then we started on "Order of the Phoenix." I warned the kids in advance that someone closer to Harry dies in this book, but after ascertaining that it was not Ron or Hermione, Xavier was keen to read it anyway. Now, so far I have made a point of not telling the kids in advance who dies, I just let them find out when we get to that point. Gwen initially said she would abstain, but after listening in to a few of my sessions reading to Xavier, I noticed that she started hanging about when we were doing our reading. As we approached the end, every time a character appeared to get into trouble -- or sometimes just appeared -- Xavier would ask, "Is he going to die?" or "Is she going to die?" I was a little surprised that when it was Sirius, he seemed unable to believe it.

Anyway, we finished the the book tonight. Xav wanted to start reading "The Half-blood Prince" right away, but I deferred, pointing out that I need to get over a cough and we should wait a few days anyway. Xavier wandered off, and Gwen said, "I'm not sure I want to read 'The Half-blood Prince.' These books seem to be getting darker and darker, and I'm not sure I want to see anyone else die."

I glanced around to make sure Xavier wasn't listening, then said, "If it won't ruin it for you, Gwen, I can tell you who dies in this book and you can decide if it is worth it."

She looked up at me and said, "Dumbledore." It was not a question, it was a statement of fact.

"How do you know?"

"My friend Violet told me."

A little while later, while the kids were getting ready for bed, Xav asked me again to read "The Half-blood Prince." I said, "Maybe in a couple of days, Xav, but I have to warn you, someone even closer to Harry than Sirius Black dies in this book."

I expected him to ask if it was Ron or Hermione, but instead he said, "Dumbledore." A statement, not a question.

"How did you --?"

"It wasn't me!" Gwen cried out. "I didn't tell him!"

I turned back to Xav. "How did you know?" I asked, thinking he may have been listening earlier.

"I told him," Gwen replied, despite what she said just a few seconds before. "I told him last night."

Silly kids, they can't even keep a secret to back up their own secret.

Lego Harry Potter Monopoly

2010-02-06T12:47:00.001-08:00

If you are a fan of Harry Potter, then you've surely heard of Wizarding Chess. This is almost completely different from that.

It all started out as a normal game of Monopoly, I think, but once Gwen had laid out the board, I waited for the inevitable battle over who got to play the wheelbarrow.

"Actually, I don't want any of those," Xavier said. "How about I get some Lego guys to use instead?"

A few minutes later he reappeared with Harry Potter and Snape lego figures. "Here, Gwen, you can be Snape and I can be Harry Potter!"

"What will Mom be, then?" Gwen asked.

"Hold on!" He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a Lego pirate and a Bionicle mask that looked kind of like a skull. "Which one do you want?"

"I'll take the pirate guy," I replied.

"Well, actually, your character is actually a Ani- Ani- Ani- a shapeshifter! You can go back and forth between being a pirate and skull, see, so you have to take this skull with you whereever you go!"

"Fine." After a couple of rounds, evidently play got too mundane for Xavier. "Guess what! You see this here in jail?" He referred to another Bionicle piece that looks kind of like a jellyfish (I don't remember what actual purpose it serves.) "That's a disease! If you go to jail, you get a disease, and it follows you everywhere!" It sounds like Xavier is more familier with the rougher league of prison than I ever wanted him to be.

Unfortunately (or maybe quite fortunately, depending on your perspective), no one went to jail for a long time. I had to go cook dinner, then deal with a work emergency, so Adam took over for me. As he sat down, Xavier piped up, "Hi Dad! Would you like to buy a troll?"

I've been away from the game for awhile, but last time I checked in, "Snape" was having a meltdown because she is losing, and "Harry" was threatening to chop up Daddy's houses with his wand/sword.

Clearly, standard Monopoly is WAY too tame a game for Xavier.

Better to be busy than idle

2010-02-04T16:04:00.000-08:00

Someone pointed out to me today that I have not blogged since the new year (yes, Mom, I'm talking about you :) ). I'm afraid I have been busy, but I can't complain -- better to be busy at work than idle.

Other things that have been keeping us busy:

1. More snow days than I have ever seen before in our town. By sundown tomorrow, my kids will have spent all of five hours in school this week (heck, who am I kidding? They'd met that goal by 3:30 today. School is already canceled for tomorrow.)

2. Our house hunt. This is is supposed to be a buyer's market -- too bad we have a house to sell as well. We found a house we liked, but the kids were resistant. Finally, after lots of meltdowns, we were able to persuade them that the new house would be better.

We made an offer, and are playing the waiting game. We've been waiting about two weeks, actually, and the real estate agent called last night and gave us the dope: the seller was already selling the house at a loss, and since we asked less than his asking price, he doesn't know where he can come up with the additional money. At the same time, he is so desperate to sell this house, he's afraid to negotiate for fear we will walk away. Now the kids are having meltdowns because they are afraid we WON'T get the house.

3. Gwen's sleep apnea. We noticed she was gasping a lot in her sleep last fall, and finally got her in to see her doctor in November, who said, "I'm sending you to an ear, nose, and throat specialist." After waiting a month to see him, he said, "I'm sending you for X-rays and an appointment with the sleep therapist." A month after that (after the X-rays and sleep study were done) we finally got back together with the ENT specialist. Her nasal passages are almost completely blocked by her adenoids, and her oxygen levels are dropping significantly at night (not low enough that they tried to schedule us in earlier, though.) Looking in her mouth, he said, "I was going to recommend just the adenoidectomy, but seeing that she has an active case of tonsillitis today, I think we should take those, too." So, if you were wondering what we will be doing for spring break, well ... now you know.

The funny part is, after we left the ENT's office, Gwen started flipping out. "I have to get my tonsils and adenoids taken out! It isn't fair!" she cried.

Xavier -- the kid who has been violently opposed to having some skin tags removed around his ears -- also flipped out. "Gwen gets to eat all the ice cream she wants! It isn't fair!"

The grass is always greener, I guess. On the flip side, if I ever decide we really do need to take action on those skin tags, well, I'll know how to motivate him. In the meantime, I think Gwen has taken solace in the fact that her friends think it is cool that she'll be going under the knife.

Kids are weird.

Young Art Critic

2009-12-31T11:57:00.001-08:00

My friend Vicky sent me a book for Christmas called "Skulls" that is full of pictures of, well, skulls that are artistically created from non-bone media (for example, organic eggs, watermelons, seagulls, etc.)*

Anyway, Xavier happened on this book today and started leafing through it. It did not take very long for him to get excited. "Look at this, Mom!" he crowed. "It's a Skull-O-Lantern!" and "Look! A coconut skull!" Soon he gave up all pretence of being selective and was calling things out consecutively:

"A spilled milk skull!"

"A cocoa skull!"

"Oooo, Mom, look at these skull pancakes!"

Finally he set the book aside with a sigh. "Wow, I love this artist!" he murmured in tones of awe. "She's AMAZING!" (The artist's name is Noah Scalin, but gender issues aside, he's clearly won Xavier over.)

Now inspired, Xavier is creating his own skull out of the more mundane medium of Model Magic clay.

*If this seems like an odd gift for Christmas, well, you probably don't know me very well. And, Vicky, I will make time to send you a more traditional thank-you card :).

Piper Sees All

2009-12-30T16:26:00.000-08:00

This Christmas, we spent the holiday with Adam's family, which was a nice opportunity for me to see my niece Piper and my nephew Riley. Ann (their mother) and I agreed to share stocking stuffers between the four kids. My contribution to the effort was a box of chocolate-covered gummy bears for each child from the local candy store.

Adam's brother Matt posted the following dialogue on Facebook today:

A transcript of a conversation with Piper this evening:

Piper (eating Chocolate covered Gummy Bears): Um, it was nice of Aunt Mandy to give me these gummy bears.

Matt: Yes, it was. You know what? I think she loves you.

Piper: Yeah, but sometimes she is silly too.

I'd say it isn't bragging if it's true, but ... well, this would be a pretty silly thing to brag about.

Well, the sands of 2009 have almost run out, but that's okay, because early in 2010 we can expect to get --

A NEW CAR! No, we didn't win it, and, no, the Honda Fit would probably not be my first choice, but it is on the top of our list because the money we have spent in home improvements over the past couple of years has pretty much limited our options. The one question was, did we want the manual or the automatic transmission?

Well, we were pretty sure we wanted the manual, but for some reason our local Honda Dealership could not seem to keep them on the lot long enough for us to test-drive one (and by "us," I really mean "me" -- Adam has pretty much left me in charge of car-vetting.) Finally, today I managed to catch them when they had one on the lot ... but they could not guarantee that it would still be there at the end of the day.

You know what that means ... Backseat drivers.

I have never taken the kids with me on a test-drive before (of course, last time we bought a car, we only had one kid). It was about what I expected.

First ... I had to stop the car, climb in the backseat and take Xavier's shoes off so he would not leave muddy footprints on the back of the driver's seat.

Second, I thought the gear shift was kind of noisy, in a clicky sort of way, but it wasn't too irritating because I could hardly hear it over the kids screaming at each other in the back seat:

Gwen: Get out of my face, Xavier!

Xavier: Gwe-en! But you start--

Me: Do you guys want me to drop you off at Daddy's work?

Gwen & Xavier: Waaaaaah! We don't want to go to Daddy's work!

Xavier: ... but she started it!

Finally, when the kids quieted down from that little spat, Gwen went on to more traditional backseat driving: "Are you going to crash? I'm worried you are going to crash. Are we almost done yet, because I am really afraid you are going to crash."

The good news is, I think the Honda Fit Manual will work out for us (clearly there will be more than enough noise in the car to block out the clicking of the gear shift.) The bad news is, that particular Honda Fit will not work out for us, because it is orange, and that is a color Adam is not willing to live with. Oh, well, at least we creep forward another step ...

On that note, Happy New Year! I know 2009 was good for some of us, not so good for the rest of us, but, nevertheless, I hope that 2010 is better for ALL of us!

Gwen's Christmas Poem

2009-12-22T19:43:00.000-08:00

Adam found this written on a sheet of paper today (it was written by Gwen.) My usual disclaimer, I kept spelling and punctuation intact.

Reindeer Near Christmas

When Christmastime is near
Much thought is given
To reindeer
But Ol' Dancer and Prancer
Go upon the roof
They ruin tiles with
Each little hoof
And naughty Rudoulph
Makes some rude coughs.
All of the reindeer
Are out of control!
But then Santa must pull
A box without tips
Santa pulls out
The reindeer whips!!!
But if they're too bad
He pulls out the cables
Then the reindeer run
To their stables

There's a cute picture that goes along with this, but I don't have a scanner, unfortunately. Maybe I should put Gwen in charge of this year's Christmas letter -- if I had done it already, maybe it would have gone out on time.

Tales of Babysitter Woe (subtitle: Why it is bad to teach your kids your cell number)

2009-12-22T04:04:00.000-08:00

Last night Adam and I went to his office Christmas Party. This is an annual event that Adam's employers graciously sponsor, and every year we have to scramble to find a babysitter. This year, we asked my coworker's teenaged son to babysit. He had never babysit for us before, but he's taken care of the cats -- how much harder could the kids be?

Admittedly, I did have a moment's pause because he is a boy, although I'm not sure why. I had occasional "boy" babysitters when I was a kid, and nothing bad happened -- usually boy babysitters were actually more fun than girl babysitters -- but I guess being suspicious of boy babysitters is the "in" thing for overcautious parents these days. I was a little concerned that Xavier would be more than he could handle, but it turns out that Xavier was not the problem ... but I get ahead of myself.

At first, it looked like this "boy babysitting experience" was going to be much the same as the ones I remembered from my childhood. My coworker dropped his son off, and the boy -- we'll call him "Edmund" -- immediately started jousting with Xavier while Gwen watched and laughed.

Chinese takeout was distributed, and we were just about to head for the door when Edmund suddenly erupted in a volley of sneezes, the like of which I have never seen before.

"Are you allergic to cats?" I asked. Of course, what I was actually thinking was, "Are you sick?" but I was trying to be diplomatic. Still, thanks to Xav, I have become somewhat of an expert on cold symptoms, and this seemed excessive for that.

"Yeah," Edmund snuffled. "On top of that, my sister just got a puppy."

"Do you need to go home?" I asked, concerned.

"Oh, no, I'll be fine," he said. So, with some trepidation (on my part -- Adam never worries), we headed out.

The party was wonderful -- the food was good, the company good, and we were in the middle of a game when my cellphone started ringing. "Uh oh," I thought, and I excused myself to take the call. I ended up having to step out into the freezing rain to hear anything, because the caller was talking softly.

"Mom," Gwen whispered, "I just used the potty, and it won't flush. I think it is backed up."

I stifled a laugh. "That's okay, Gwen, just put a garbage can on it and ask the boys to use the bathroom upstairs."

"Mom, I think you need to come home now."

"Why, is it running over onto the floor?"

"No."

"I think it will wait until we get home, then."

There was a pause. Suddenly I heard Xavier's voice on the line, whispering. "Mom, I think you need to come home now."

"Why?"

"Because the potty is backed up."

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Well, the babysitter has a headache, and he doesn't want to play. I think he might be lazy."

"Where is he now?"

"Sitting on the sofa, playing with Legos."

Only the cats' favorite piece of furniture. "Does he know you are calling?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't know what about."

Deciding it was probably best that we end the babysitter's misery, we came home, which is probably a good thing because he was still machine-gun sneezing. I felt bad, because it was clear he had been trying -- he'd been playing cards with the kids, there were other games out, he'd washed the dinner dishes, and even as he was waiting to leave he was trying to make the kids laugh. Clearly my kids have a higher expectation from their sitters than is probably realistic.

Still, in the interest of keeping him alive until he can graduate from high school, we'll probably not invite him to babysit again.

I've been really busy since before Thanksgiving, so I have been a little slack on the blog, and I apologize. Over Thanksgiving, we went to see my parents, and we took my niece Chloe with us. My parents' house is a little small to contain three active kids, so Adam took them to the playground down the street for a couple hours a day. In order to make the walk interesting, Adam suggested that they take turns playing Simon Says.

Xavier went first. "Simon Says -- run!" So the kids ran like crazy. When they slowed, my niece breathless, Gwen took a turn, then Chloe.

Then it was Xavier's turn again: "Simon Says -- run!"

Adam, noting that Chloe was already out of breath, said, "Xav, you picked that last time. Why don't you pick something else?"

"Oh, okay." Xavier thought for a second, then said, "Simon Says -- run as fast as you can!"

Well, I guess it was different, sort of.

We are late on our Christmas letter, but we do plan to work on it today. I'll be posting it here as well this year as the number of "electronic letter" requests has increased, but we will continue to send out paper copies, at least this year. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Welcome to the New World

2009-12-03T15:33:00.000-08:00

When the kids got home from school today, Xavier darted into the bathroom to wash his hands as he usually does (Mom's rule.) As he emerged, he said, "I didn't wash my hands in the bathroom, Mom -- I washed them in the 'flue'."

"What?" I asked, wondering if he meant "flue" or "flu". Neither made sense.

"The 'flue', Mom. I washed my hands in the 'flue'."

Seeing I still didn't get it, he said, exasperated, "You know, Mom -- like they say in New England. You know, the place where they call policemen 'bobbies.'"

"They call it a 'loo', Xav, not a 'flue'." I didn't tell him this was slang in OLD England -- I figured it was enough upheaval of his world order in one day.

Of course, at supper he was telling his dad how they call cake sprinkles "dozens of thousands" in New England. Maybe I would be doing him a favor to let him know ... and maybe to google that term to see if he had it right.

Xavier's Recipe for Thanksgiving Turkey

2009-11-16T13:36:00.000-08:00

If you aren't sure how to cook your turkey this Thanksgiving, you might take a tip from Xav. Heck, if Xavier can cook a turkey, anyone can!

How to Cook a Turkey
By
Xavier

I will get the turkey at Kroger. It will weigh 15 pounds. I will cook the turkey in the oven at 15 degrees and cook it for two hours. When it is brown it will be done.

Now we will make the gravy.

We take the turkey's juice and add onion.

Now add garlic.

Now pour the gravy on the turkey.

The turkey is ready.

We have a great Thanksgiving.

The End

Of course, it takes a very special oven to cook a turkey a la Freezer Burn. Or, as Adam put it, "Turkey Tartare."

Another way a cat can kill you

2009-11-09T19:16:00.000-08:00

You know how some people are deathly allergic to cats? Well, we aren't deathly allergic ... we aren't even a little allergic. And yet, a cat nearly killed my son tonight. How, might you ask? Stay tuned, gentle reader ...

A few years ago, I bought Adam an anthology of Get Fuzzy cartoons (I believe for one of those romantic holidays, like our anniversary or Valentine's Day.) In case you are not familiar with the strip, it catalogs the day-to-day life of Robert Wilco, a single guy who can't get a date, his hopelessly dumb but affectionate dog Satchel, and his sociopathic cat (I know, is there any other kind?) Bucky.

Anyway, last night I started reading the Get Fuzzy anthology to Xavier and Gwen. They found it fairly amusing, although it was not amusing enough to lure Gwen back to the sofa tonight. Xavier was ready and willing, however. Again, most of them he found at least somewhat amusing, but one of them really set him off.

In this particular "episode", Bucky the Cat is singing the "I Say Potato, You Say Po-taw-to" song:

(First frame):
Bucky, singing: "I say potato; you say potato. I say tomato and you say tomato."

(Second frame):
Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Tomato! Tomato!"

(Third frame):
Robert (the human): "Um, Bucky, you're not supposed to say it the same way both times."

Bucky: "Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato! Potato!"

Now, being familiar with the song, I read it the "right" way, and it was not until the third frame that I realized I was reading it incorrectly. It didn't matter -- Xavier thought it was hysterical.

"Read it again!" he gasped between laughs. I read it again and he laughed so hard and long that at first I thought his head was going to explode, but it didn't. Instead, he started coughing -- yup, Bucky the Cat had set off his asthma.

But that still didn't stop him. "Again! Again!" he croaked, and we probably read that silly strip ten times before, in the interest of saving his life, I moved on to something else.

But the moral of this story is: "Never trust a cat," even a comic strip cat. Or, at least, never trust a six-year-old boy with an anthology of comic strips.

Halloween Party Postponed to November 8, 1:30 to 3:30

2009-10-23T05:52:00.000-07:00

Gwen is sick, and when the doctor announced it was probably H1N1, we decided to postpone the party until we could be relatively sure the flu had run its course through our family. After notifying about half of the kids of the party delay, however, the doctor said the test results came back negative, so it is NOT the flu.

Anyway, we hope to see you rain or shine on November 8th! If it ends up being "rain," we'll find someway to bring the party indoors, but otherwise count on an outdoor party.

Fame

2009-10-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

Of course, you've heard about the "Balloon Boy" hoax. You've probably heard of that survey that found that one third of kids responded with "Famous!" when asked what they wanted to be when they grow up.

In Gwen's defense, I think she likes reading this blog more than she likes the thought that others are reading it. The other day she asked me when I would write in the BLOG again.

"I don't know, honey. When I have time. Or when one of you does something remarkably funny."

A few minutes later, a song came on the radio and she started jamming to it. I tried to keep a straight face, but I couldn't. Gwen looked over and said, "What, you think I'm funny?"

"I'm afraid so," I laughed, more than a little afraid of hurting her pride.

"Good!" she responded. "Put it on the BLOG!"

It took us awhile to explain to her that describing her dancing was not the same as seeing it. All the same, it was still pretty funny.

Now for news of my niece Chloe ...

Have you ever been on the phone with someone and felt powerless to control what was going on at the other end of the phone?

Well, the other day I was talking to my niece Chloe on the phone. Chloe has days when she is kind of chatty, but she also has days when she is distracted. This was clearly a distracted kind of day, so I finally asked, "Chloe, are you watching TV?"

"No, I'm playing with my Mom's Nintendo DS. I figured out her password on this game, and I'm changing it."

"Oh ..." I said. "I'm not so sure that's such a good idea Chloe."

"I'm changing it to 'RREEQQEEABCEERIJ..." and she rambled on a few letters.

"Um, Chloe, I sure hope you're writing this down."

"No," she replied glibly.

"How are you going to remember it, then, when your Mom wants to log back in?"

"I'll just remember."

Great. "Um, Chloe, maybe this would be a good time to turn me back over to your mother."

There was a pause, and at first I thought maybe she was doing what I suggested. Then, "I just changed her language options to Chinese!"

Groan ... well, I hope her mom doesn't need to play that game for awhile ... or that Chloe was pulling my leg.

The other day, the kids and I went to the local bookstore to buy some Christmas presents and pick up some books that had just come in. We could not have been in the store for twenty minutes, and I did not leave the lights on, but after loading the kids into the car, I turned the ignition and got nothing but the tick-tick-tick of the flywheel.

I looked in the backseat, where the kids were comfortably reading. Outside it was cold and rainy, and we really were parked right in front of the bookstore, so I said, "Kids, the car won't start. Do you want to come in with me or stay out here?"

"Stay out here," they chorused without looking up.

"I'm going to lock you guys in, okay?"

"Okay," they replied, still not looking up.

So I locked the kids in the van, stepped into the bookstore and tried to call Adam on his cell. Nothing. Then I borrowed a phone book and called the nearby automotive repair shop to ask for a jump. Fine, they'd be there in ten minutes. I went out and climbed back into the van to wait.

Ten minutes later, I saw the repair shop van pull up behind me. As I opened the door, Xavier shifted in his seat and said, "Mommy! Why are we still here?"

"I told you, honey. The car won't start, so the guy from the auto shop is here to jump the battery."

"The car won't start?!?" Gwen cried, a look of panic crossing her face. "What are we going to do?"

I reassured her that we would be on our way in a minute, and we were. Whew! I don't know whether to be disappointed at how little they listen to me, or just glad that they love reading so much.

B is for Bad, D is for Disaster

2009-10-06T16:36:00.000-07:00

We were supposed to go to a scouting event last Saturday, but we didn't because I had a cold and did not feel it prudent to go spend all day chasing crazed little boys around. Adam was willing (not "ready and willing", just "willing") to take the kids himself, but he wasn't happy about it, and the kids had a birthday party in town they could attend, so we attended the birthday party.

At the party, I was talking to the mother of another third grader. At our school, kids are not evaluated with the "A-B-C-D-F" scoring system until third grade, and the other mother made the observation, "We're a little apprehensive about the new grading system. I mean, Ned (her son) couldn't care less, and we can yell at him about school until the cows come home, but he doesn't care. We're the ones who worry about his grades."

I nodded with knowing sympathy, but ... I don't really have that problem with OUR third grader. The problem we have can be illustrated more like ... this:

The other night, when I was helping Gwen get ready for bed, she suggested that our new bedtime regimen (of letting them stay up until 8:30 but not allowing them to read in bed anymore) wasn't working for her. She said, "I think my grades are coming down because of it. I used to get As all the time, but NOW I've gotten a few --" (voice drops to horrified whisper) "B's!"

You know, this is going to shock some people, but I don't worry about my kids' grades so much. Their health? Sure -- that's why we started enforcing this new bedtime regimen. Research has shown that kids who go to bed at set bedtimes are healthier than their "read-in-bed" counterparts. More to the point, when we come to bed at 10:30, we are now finding Gwen asleep -- that wasn't true before. No, the reason Gwen is getting B's instead of A's is because she spends all her time reading and not enough time on her homework. "Gwen, not that I care, but the reason you are getting B's is because you've gotten slack on your homework so you can spend more time reading."

"No, I haven't! I do my homework!"

"Yes," I said patiently, "but you rush through it so you have more time to read. And, anyway, B's are still good. I'm not worried about B's. Now, if you start bringing home D's ..."

So, today Gwen brought home a D. It was just a quiz, not a test or a report card grade, so I looked at it and simply said, "Well, I guess we need to spend more time on our homework."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" she cried, bursting into tears. Me, I just saw a letter, but she saw ... catastrophe. Fifteen minutes later, I managed to distract her with her homework. Then her Dad came home and we had to go through the whole thing again.

Some parents comment that they wish their kids were a little more like Gwen and more diligent about their grades. All I can say is, Be careful what you wish for.

Tonight Gwen told me that she had to teach her Social Studies class tomorrow.

"Oh?" I asked. "What are you going to teach them about?"

"I'm going to teach them about the execute-ive branch." (Yes, she pronounced "executive" as if it were something they do to death penalty convicts.)

"Well, maybe under the Bush administration," my husband replied.

If Life gives you watermelons, make jack-o-lanterns

2009-10-03T14:56:00.000-07:00

So, take a look at the picture above ... notice something strange about the feller in the middle? Yup, he's a watermelon.

This has not been the best year for our garden. Our pumpkins were infected by two kinds of pumpkin-vermin and so the pair flanking the jack-o-lantern above are actually a couple of the large specimens (which is to say, they are slightly larger than a softball.)

We planted several hills of two kinds of watermelons, and only one plant came up. It did not start producing melons until the beginning of September. The first three we harvested sounded hollow, but were far from ripe. This one -- the fourth -- sounded really, really hollow and it was bigger than the other three, so we were optimistic ... but it turned out it was hollow. So we decided that we'd have to make do with the materials at hand. There are six more melons in the garden, but given that it is October and we have already had our first frost, I'd say chances are good that we won't be much luckier with them. Oh well, better luck next year.

We watched Jackie Chan's "Rumble in the Bronx" with the kids the other night. Xavier loved it, but the word "Rumble" seemed beyond him. Several times through the week we had that video, Xavier would wander in and say, "Mom, can we see something in the Bronx?"

By the way, Henry is back from Iraq! His tour was supposed to run until November 9th, but he is back early. As luck would have it, he returned just as the newspaper was running an article about a local businessman (Henry) who was serving in Iraq. If you haven't checked out his blog, see the link on the right -- it is interesting reading.

Dancing in the Dark

2009-09-26T09:15:00.000-07:00

Xavier is under the weather again, so I spent the night on Gwen and Xavier's floor again. It turned out that I probably didn't need to -- it was a pretty quiet night overall except for my pager.

Anyway, at one point in the middle of the night when I was awake, Gwen stirred and said loudly, "Are you ready to dance, Xav?"

After a second, Xavier gave a great groan, as if to say, "Not again!"

The funny part is that they were both asleep. I wonder if they were having the same dream.

Public Service Announcements

2009-09-24T16:27:00.000-07:00

First off, Tylenol is recalling a bunch of their liquid Children's products. If you have liquid Children's Tylenol in your cupboard (all varieties, including Children's Tylenol + Cough, Children's Tylenol + Cold, Plain Old Vanilla Children's Tylenol, and many, many more) you should check out this website and make sure your Tylenol is not covered by this recall.

As I was checking our bottle of Children's Tylenol, Xavier wandered in. "Mom," he began, then spotting the bottle in my hand his face fell. "Oh, no! Is that for me?"

"Why? Do you feel sick?" I asked.

"No."

"Then it's probably not for you," I replied with a laugh. Six-year-old boys think everything is about them.

Eight-year-old girls, on the other hand, seem to be entrenched in a life of drama. As Gwen was getting her jammies on, she gave a great sigh.

"What's the matter, Gwen?"

"I had a bad day."

"Really?" I was surprised. Evidence would have indicated she'd had a good day -- it was warm, she got a good grade on her science pretest, and she clearly has her social studies test in the bag, if our study session is any indication. "What happened?"

"Well," she sighed. "I nearly passed the Shuttle Run in PE."

"You mean, you nearly failed it?"

"No, I nearly passed it."

"You failed it, then?"

"No," she said, exasperated. "I passed it, but just barely."

"Well, at least you passed it," I said. "Why did you have trouble with it?"

"Well, I fell down."

"Did you get hurt?"

"Yes."

"Bad enough to go to the nurse?"

Pause. "No, not that bad."

"Bad enough for a band-aid?"

Pause. "No."

"Well, okay, that doesn't sound so bad. What else went wrong?"

Gwen sighed again. "Well, I forgot my homework sheet because I didn't know we needed to bring it back in, so I had to share with Robert."

I said gently, "Well, it's your own fault for forgetting your homework."

"I didn't know I needed it!" she emphasized. "And I had to share with Robert!"

"What's wrong with Robert? Does he smell?"

"No, but I had to share with him!"

"Gwen." It was my turn to sigh. "Did anything else go wrong today?"

She thought about it. "No."

"You know, Gwen, that really doesn't sound like a very bad day. You weren't seriously hurt, you didn't get in trouble, your house didn't burn down, and you have food to eat. All in all, I think it was a pretty ordinary day, and it could even be a good day if you looked at it in a different way."

Gwen gave me a withering look that left me in no doubt as to what she thought of my intelligence, and wandered off rather than hear about how she could transform her day. Clearly I had missed the point entirely.

Meanwhile, I was left thinking, "Wow, if she thinks this was a bad day, she must lead a charmed life ... why, back when I was a kid --" And then I realized I had reached the point in my life when I was thinking nostalgically about the good old -- or maybe in this case, bad old -- days, and THAT was a depressing thought. Completely ruined my day.

But, if you need a pick-me-up, check this out Anti Depression Video. If this link does not work, go to YouTube and search for Anti Depression Video and choose the video with the woman and four babies. It only lasts a minute, and really will brighten your day.

Scout's Envy

2009-09-14T16:18:00.001-07:00

Xavier's Cub Scout uniform came today, and he looks very handsome in it, but won't pose for pictures. Hopefully he will be able to go to Cub Scout's tomorrow, and then I can sneak a shot in.

I ordered his uniform online because I did not have time to go to Roanoke this past weekend. With his uniform we got the Tiger Cub's Handbook (I paid for that, it wasn't free :) and, of course, a Boy Scouts of America catalog (that I did not pay for.)

Xavier picked up the catalog, examined it briefly, then tossed it aside with disgust. "I don't know why they want me to order Boy's Life magazine, Mom," he said with disgust. "It's really boring."

I reassured him that he was looking at a catalog and that Boy's Life was definitely better than that.

Gwen, in the meantime, was reading the Tiger Cub's Handbook. Finally she put it aside with a sigh and said, "Why can't girls be boy scouts? It sounds like a lot of fun. Do you know, Xavier gets to make a scrapbook?" Yeah, nothing says macho like developing your scrapbooking skills.

I replied, "Well, I don't think they get to do everything in that book."

"All the same, it looks like fun. I wish I could be a boy scout."

"Well, you could always join the Girl Scouts," I suggested.

"Naah," she replied. "Too many girls."

This evening Xavier called me into the living room and asked me to help him put a balloon on his balloon pump. "I want to surprise Daddy!" he said with a smile. "I'm going to make a screechy noise with my balloon!"

Knowing Adam as I do, I said, "Aw, Xav, I wouldn't recommend that. He's really not in a very good mood today."

"Why is that?" Xavier asked.

Rather than answer -- because he had to take Xavier to the doctor today because Xav was hacking up a lung -- I kind of dodged the question. Instead, I said, "Do you know, when Daddy and I got married, he was the happy, easy-go-lucky member of the family?"

"No way!" Xavier scoffed as Gwen was walking in to see what Xav was doing.

"No way what?" she asked.

"Daddy used to be the light-hearted, happy one of the two of us," I answered.

Gwen made a skeptical face. "When was that?" she asked.

"Before we had kids," I replied with a smile to let them know I was joking.

I wasn't, really.

I'm not dead yet -- I'm getting better!

2009-09-12T10:36:00.000-07:00

No, no one here is sick. Well, Xavier is (again) -- it looks like the "no sniffy nose/cough" rule at school is not being enforced like it should -- but in the grand scheme of things, it is not too bad a cough.

No, the other night when Xavier went to feed his fish, I stopped him because I noticed the fish looked strangely ... inactive. I shook the bowl a few times, but it continued to float at the bottom of the bowl.

Xavier started to tear up. "Is my fish dead?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "I think so, but let's give him a few, see if he recovers." Really, what I was trying to do was get Xavier in bed so I could get rid of the fish discreetly. Still, Xavier continued to be tearful, red-eyed, sniffly, and coughy, and I tried to reassure him. Gwen, realizing that there might be a dead fish in the family also dissolved into tears.

"Mom," Xavier said at last. "If my fish is dead, can I get legos instead of a new fish?"

"Ummm, I guess so," I replied. "But he might not be dead yet."

"Can I get space police legos?"

"Uh, sure. If your fish is dead."

"Maybe Harry Potter legos would be better."

"Well you'll have to think about it," I said, as I turned out the light.

I went from the bedroom to the bathroom to dispose of the fish, and found him swimming slowly around the bowl. I'm not one to hasten someone to the great beyond, so I could not bring myself to "flush the fish." Instead, I went back to the kids' room.

"Xavier, your fish isn't dead," I said. "He's swimming around. He might be fine tomorrow."

"Maybe," he replied. "But he'll probably be dead."

I privately agreed, but did not say so. Not wanting the kids to start a school day with the spector of a dead fish, I went into their bathroom the next morning to dispose of the evidence, only to find the fish zipping around the bowl like he was at the Indy 500. I tossed some food in, which he ate voraciously, then breathed a silent sigh of relief that he seemed to be just fine.

When Xavier got up, I said, "Good news, son! The fish is alive and well!"

"Oh," Xavier responded disappointedly. Then, as if realizing that did not sound very good, he added with a little more enthusiasm, "Really?"

Xavier has joined the ranks of the cub scouts. When he announced he wanted to do this, I was surprised at the vehemence of Adam's response against it. He went on a tirade on how much he hated the scouts, and what a waste of time it was, what an ordeal it was, and how only a complete idiot would join the scouts. I was a little stunned in the onslaught of his negative response -- I mean it wasn't like Xavier was lobbying to join the local Satanist church or the Young Republicans.

Xavier, being relatively sharp despite what people think, put the kibosh on the topic, but when I was putting him to bed, he whispered to me, "But, Mom, I really wanted to join the scouts."

"I know, Xav. I'll take care of it."

Saying good night, I immediately went downstairs and said, "You know, Adam, we really ought to let him give the scouts a try."

Adam sighed. "I guess so ... I just wish he could learn from my mistakes."

That cracked me up, on two levels:
1. Xavier has a very different personality from Adam. I pointed this out to Adam, then added, "It may not be a mistake for him."

2. Gwen, on the other hand, has a very similar personality to mine, and despite my best efforts, she refuses to learn from my mistakes.

Anyway, I felt the first mistake coming on when I went to the scouting info session, and along with Xavier's sign up form, they handed me the popcorn fundraiser forms. So ... if you want to order Boy Scout popcorn from Xavier, shoot me an email. If you don't, well, I'm kind of resigned to join the popcorn assault team at Kroger later this month rather than seek out donations door-to-door anyway.

Religion a la Bakugan

2009-09-07T19:32:00.000-07:00

Today was Labor Day, and I had to work, but I'm not complaining -- I still have a job.

Anyway, Adam did not have to work, so he stayed home with the kids. Gwen was rescued from the ennui of playing Legos with Xavier by a playdate, so Adam and Xavier spent some male-bonding time together.

Xavier was showing Adam his Bakugan, which are little magnetic balls that transform into "creatures" when they come in contact with metal (follow the link and you can see what I mean.) They are associated with some kind of card game, but Xavier doesn't care about that -- he just likes the Bakugans.

He told Adam that the blue one was his favorite, then added, "But THIS one is the most powerful. It has 720 Jesus, while that one only has 320 Jesus."

"What?" Adam asked, not sure if he was hearing Xavier correctly.

"720 Jesus, Dad. That's how powerful he is," Xavier repeated patiently.

"Where are the cards that go with these?" Adam asked. On perusing the cards, he saw that the unit of measure involved were called "G-force". So, Xavier's most powerful Bakugon has 720 "G-force," not "Jesus."

Clearly someone needs to work harder on his reading skills. Either that, or I need to take him to church more often.

New Sick Kid Rules

2009-08-24T16:20:00.000-07:00

If you follow the news, you know that University of Kansas resumed classes last Thursday, and by Monday 47 of the kids had the swine flu.

Well, Xavier is playing in their league. School here started last Wednesday, and Xavier woke up with a croupy cough yesterday morning. Luckily (I think), it does not look like the flu. (Mom, before you correct my grammar, the sentence above is correct -- I think I am lucky it is not the flu.) The problem is, Xavier has a runny nose, occasional cough, and no fever. In fact, with the minor inconvenience of his asthma and being nagged about blowing his nose, he feels great! But, because of flu fears, he is not allowed to go to school. According to our county's new "accepted level of wellness" rules, no child with a runny nose, cough, or temperature over 99.7 is allowed in school. Last year, we would have sent him to school like this; this year, I am learning it is nigh impossible to work from home when your child is bouncing off the walls.

Today, I caught Xavier coughing his head off as he jumped on the sofa (as if it were a trampoline), and told him to stop and blow his nose. "Don't you want to get better?" I asked.

"Nope!" he replied.

Not sure I'd heard him correctly, I said, "You don't want to get better?"

"Heck, no!" he replied. "As long as I am sick, I get to stay home with Mom, get snuggled by Mom, make YouTubes, play with Legos, drink root beer and watch videos. I NEVER want to get better!"

Daddy is staying home with him tomorrow.

On that note, here's a plea to friends and family that is not a joke ...

On the one hand, I am thrilled that kids with colds are being asked to stay home from school. When your child has asthma, there is no such thing as "just a cold." On the other hand, as a working mother facing the prospect of staying home with a mildly sick kid (except for the asthma) for possibly as long as the next two weeks, this is totally uncool.

So, please listen: much as we love to see you, we don't want to see you with any sort of respiratory illness. We will happily postpone visits with you (even major holidays) if it means giving you a chance to recover. That way, you will enjoy our company more (because you are feeling better), and we will be able to keep our kids in school.

Thanks for your cooperation on this!

Testing Your Knowledge

2009-08-12T13:54:00.000-07:00

The kids made the following videos (they call them YouTubes, but we aren't posting them there). Can you tell who made which one?

The Manduran Alligators:

I should note that the two stars of The Manduran Alligators are Darth Vader (from Star Wars) and the Penguin (from Batman). Just so you know.

Life and Death:

Penguin also stars in Life and Death (I think), but I'm not sure who the other players are.

And who says girls and boys are creative in different ways?

And here's a blast from the past ... now you know where it all began:

Xavier-wan Kenobi

2009-08-11T19:12:00.000-07:00

In case you can't tell, Xavier is using his light sword (that we got at Busch Gardens last week) to read a comic book in bed when he should be sleeping. Perhaps if Anakin Skywalker had spent more time using his lightsaber to read Archie comic books instead of killing people with it, well ... okay, the Star Wars universe might be a better place, but the movies would have been pretty boring.

We were eating supper the other day, and we were talking about doctors. Adam commented, "Usually people expect doctors to help them get better."

Gwen scoffed. "Better at what? Better at golf?"

Only eight years old and already jaded.

On a child-unrelated note, it seems that some mothers are using their blogs for financial gain by posting product endorsements (see http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/08/10/mommy.bloggers.ethics/index.html?iref=newssearch for more information.) I, for one, will not take this pledge, because this is an anonymous blog for my children's safety (so anonymous even the email address is fake, so I don't get product endorsement opportunities anymore.) Furthermore, as I sit here drinking my Larry's Beans Fair Trade Organic coffee and brushing my teeth with Tom's of Maine toothpaste (at the same time! Sure! Why not?), I realize that my readers deserve better (although reading this might be better yet using the Amazon Kindle.) So sit back, drink your Blue Sky Organic soda, and know that you are logged into the one blog source you can be sure is uncorrupted. And if you are still having trouble sleeping thinking about our capitalistic society, try Rainbow brand Children's Bubble Bath -- the gentle scent of lavender is formulated to help you (and your child) relax at the end of a long day.

Unless, of course, you have a light sword from Busch Gardens.

Good night!

Keep it simple, Elton!

2009-08-02T18:57:00.000-07:00

Tonight while Adam and Xavier were finishing supper (speedeaters Gwen and I were already done), Adam had Elton John's "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" playing on the stereo. Conversation had fallen into a lull, and they were sharing some male bonding time, listening to Elton crooning the last stanza:

What do I gotta do to make you love me?
What do I gotta do to make you care?
What do I do when lightning strikes me --

"You die!" Xavier snapped, exasperated. "That wasn't so hard to figure out!"

What comes around, goes around ...

2009-07-31T18:45:00.000-07:00

Or is it, "What goes around, comes around"? I guess in this case it does not matter.

Some of my friends thought I was a little nit-picky, but you have no idea what that really means until one of your kids gets lice.

Wait a minute! you're thinking. Mandy's kids aren't in school and they aren't in daycare. How the heck could one of them have lice?

Well ... since my kids are not in daycare, I have two babysitters that take turns watching them through the week. My Tuesday-Thursday sitter is a saint, and if I had not hired the other girl first, I would gladly have taken her on for a five-day shift if she wanted it. My Monday-Wednesday-Friday girl? Well, let's just say that she is coasting along.

Anyway, two weeks ago, MWF Sitter called in sick because she had lice. She said, "I think I am cured, but if you want to skip today, I understand." We chose to skip. (As an interesting side note, while we were home that day Adam and the kids saw a skunk in our yard, and the kids and I saw a woodchuck. We live in the middle of town, so either of these events would have been unusual. Still, it made the day kind of neat, even if the sitter's absence was inconvenient.)

A week passed, and our kids showed no symptoms (although our neighbor spotted the skunk). The babysitter came back. Then, at 3:30am Tuesday morning, Gwen bursts into our bedroom and cries, "My head itches! I think I have lice!" I got up and spent half an hour picking through her hair -- nothing. But she went back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that she was clean.

Well, last night as I was getting her out of the tub, I saw something dark in her hair. I plucked it out -- sure enough an insect. And then I spotted another. And another. Soon I had a collection of ten lice drying out in a glob of hand sanitizer on a tissue on the counter. (And, in case you were curious, it turns out that head lice looks nothing like rice. So if you have been living under that delusion, I'll set you straight on that :). )

Let me tell you, the next four hours gave new meaning to the word "nit-picker" (and, for the less informed, a "nit" is an immature louse, so "nit-picking" really does mean "delousing".) First there was the hour of hysterics (all Gwen's), discussing our options (me: "Doctor"; Adam: "Listerene.") Then there was the rush to the pharmacy to pick up Listerene, lice combs, and (as it turns out) a "pesticide-free ten-minute cure" (I got both the Listerene and the pesticide-free, ten-minute cure -- best to be prepared. The worst that could happen is that we'll go around with medicinal-smelling breath for a month.) Then came blow-drying her hair (since the ten-minute cure requires dry hair), then twenty minutes to apply the ten-minute cure. Ten minutes passed and Viola! I got to spend the next two hours with the lice comb. And that doesn't begin to describe the house-cleaning and laundry we have been doing.

Count on Xavier to pick out the silver lining: "If Gwen has lice, the babysitter can't come tomorrow! Woo-hoo!" Sure enough, he was right: MWF sitter didn't want to catch the lice again right before her vacation, so she gave us a miss.

Poetic Justice: when she stopped by to pick up her check for her earlier work this week, she admitted to Adam that after our call, she checked her hair. Sure enough, her lice was back anyway.

Of course, we didn't laugh long. Yesterday was not the best day on so many levels (I had to be at work at 5:00am to patch databases, I almost had to have the van towed because I could not get it out of park when it was time to come home from work, and I discovered that the root problem for that is that the brake lights are out, so it is not legal or safe to drive anyway ...) Then, this morning, we discovered that yesterday we had managed to close the woodchuck up in the garage -- not a mess for the weak of heart.

But, as Gwen so aptly put it to Adam, "Look at the bright side, Dad -- at least it was not the skunk."

Issues

2009-07-20T16:44:00.000-07:00

I was reading an article about how hard it is to diagnose girls with Asberger's Syndrome because outwardly their symptoms may manifest themselves differently than Asberger's in boys. It was kind of an interesting article, although I have to admit that I didn't feel a strong personal tie to it. Oh, sure, my kids have their own issues -- Xav has the attention span of a gnat, and Gwen is so tense she could probably deflect bullets -- but Asberger's is not one of their problems.

Or so I thought ...

The article described one of the puzzles they use to diagnose Asberger's Syndrome. It goes something like this:

1. Sally walks into a room and puts her favorite marble into a basket, then leaves.

2. Anne walks into the room, takes the marble and puts it into a flower pot.

3. Sally returns. Where does she look for the marble?

This puzzle is sometimes done as a mini-role play. The theory is, a child with Asberger's Syndrome is more likely to fail this test (ie, choose the flower pot) than a child without, because a child with Asberger's is unable to see Sally's point of view independently of his/her own (ie, I know the marble is in the flowerpot, Sally should too.)

I was surprised that it could be this cut-and-dry, so I posed the puzzle to Xav (without the role-play). Xavier answered it correctly right away.

Then I posed it to Gwen. She listened to the puzzle, pondered it, then said uncertainly, "In the basket, right?"

"Right." Still, it gave me pause -- Gwen is a very smart kid, a little socially awkward, perhaps, but surely ... "Why did you think about it so long?"

"Well, I thought she would look in the basket right away," Gwen said, "but then I thought, 'This is too easy. It has to be a trick question.' Where did you get this riddle?"

"It comes from an article about girls with Asberger's --"

A panicked look crossed her face. "YOU THINK I HAVE ASBERGER'S SYNDROME????"

I gave a sigh of relief -- this is the Gwen I know. All is right in the world.

We just came back from visiting Adam's relatives in Durham. Our niece Piper is a cute little girl, and, as her parents describe her, "Very three." Most of the time she is very happy, but sometimes she gets upset about minor things (as three-year-olds are wont to do).

When she starts tearing up about something seemingly trivial (ie, like not getting the pink cup), one of her parents will suggest, exasperatedly, "Why don't you cry about it? That always makes things better."

"No, it doesn't!" Piper retorts, always smiling through her tears.

Ah, if only parenthood was always that simple.

More relationship confusion

2009-06-27T15:34:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry if it sounds like I am picking on Chloe, but she is visiting and a new face adds new perspective. Also, if you have not read yesterday's blog, you need to read it first if this entry is to make sense.

That said ...

Since Chloe has been here, she has been dropping the honorific titles one normally uses when addressing Aunts and Uncles. For example, she'll say, "Mandy, can I have this?" instead of "Aunt Mandy, can I have this?" This doesn't bother me, but evidently it began to wear on Adam.

This evening, she remarked, "Adam, what are we having for dinner?"

"You can call me 'Uncle Adam,' you know," he said.

"Yeah," I chimed in. "He's your uncle, you know, not your brother."

(Yeah, no one else got it, either. Then again, they hadn't read yesterday's blog.)

More relationship confusion ... Chloe and Xavier were helping Adam shuck corn on the back porch. Chloe remarked, "The last time I did this was at my Grammy's house in Reedville."

"I think I remember that," Adam remarked, remembering other times when the kids have helped my mother shuck corn when we were visiting.

"Yeah," Chloe said thoughtfully. Then she added, "She's not my real grandmother -- we just call her that."

"She is your real grandmother." Adam insisted.

"Really?" Chloe said, amazed. "I didn't know that."

We went to a roller rink today for a birthday party that Xav was invited to, but the birthday girl's mother welcomed Gwen and Chloe as well. This roller rink is one of those that play loud music and occasionally use disco-style lighting. None of the kids I was accompanying are in danger of being asked to join the US Olympic skating team, but they tried their best. Chloe was more engaged in the music and the mood than the other kids, and even tried to do some "roller-boogie," but was limited somewhat (or quite a bit) by her skating skills.

Evidently I failed to grasp just how into the mood she was. As soon as I removed her second skate as we were preparing to leave, she ran out into onto the skating floor and started rocking. This, needless to say, scared me out of a year's growth, because skaters were whipping past her at great speed, but I guess I didn't really need another year's worth of growth anyway.

On and on and on ... keep on rocking, baby, till the night is done ...

One more Chloe story ... this morning, I was tidying up before one of Adam's friends came over. I called Chloe, who was upstairs, and said, "Chloe, could you please come down and put your sandels and your bag away?"

"I can't right now," she called back. "I'm too busy playing."

You dissin' me?

2009-06-26T12:17:00.000-07:00

I won't bother with my usual excuses ... I'll just try to do better in the future.

June has been pretty eventful so far. End of school ... beach vacation ... promotion at work ... and now my brother's daughter Chloe is staying with us until we have have our annual rendevous at Chez Grandparents Wilson (technically in July, but close enough.)

We had fun at the beach, although it wasn't quite what I expected. I kind of envisioned mornings spent walking along the water, afternoon spent reading the latest mystery novels, and taking it easy. I forgot that "vacationing with kids" is a bit of an oxymoron. The first morning we were there, Gwen drew up a "Calendar of Activities."

"Mom, what are we doing tomorrow?" she asked.

"Going to Ocracoke," I said definitely.

"And how about Monday?"

"Umm, maybe we'll go to the Paint Your Own Pottery Place?"

"And Tuesday?"

"Uhhh, go to the beach, then sit around and read all afternoon?"

She gave me a disparaging look. "Mo-om, that's not good enough," she said. "We have a lot to do, and not very much time to do it. What are we doing on Tuesday?"

I swear, getting back to work was almost a vacation after that.

On the last night of our trip to the beach, as we were eating dinner, we talked about what a clown Xavier was, and then various famous comedians, about their lives, etc.

At one point, I remarked, "I read once that it is very difficult being married to a comedian."

My mom replied, "I can see where that would be."

Gwen said snidely, "Definitely."

With a grin, I said, "Gwen, you aren't married yet ... or is there something you need to tell me?"

Gwen snorted. "I live with Xavier -- it's close enough."

Then there was this morning, when I met with my brother and his wife to pick up Chloe (Xavier came along for company.) As I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced at my brother's car.

"Bye, Aunt Ginger!" I called (for the benefit of the kids, and apparently biased by renaming folks based on their relationships to my kids.) "Bye, Uncle Ezra! Have a good trip, we'll miss you!"

From the backseat, Chloe said in a condescending tone, "He's your brother, you know, not your uncle."

I guess it is clear what she thinks of my intelligence.

In sadder news, yesterday we saw the end of Farrah Fawcett, Michael Jackson, and Gwen's hermit crabs. They started ailing a couple of days after we returned from the beach. Lots of web research uncovered nothing to clue us in as to what was wrong with them and why, but they managed to linger for a little over a week before kicking the bucket. Gwen is devastated, of course -- she managed to convince herself that they were molting until they started to smell -- but she was doing her best to put a positive spin on it. As we were burying them under a little tree in our front yard, she sniffed, "I think it would make Christy and Caramel happy to know that they were feeding the tree and bringing a little more life to the world."

A fine sentiment indeed. Rest in peace, Christy and Caramel.

The House of Flu and Ivy

2009-05-19T17:39:00.000-07:00

The Blog has been quiet this month between me getting the worst case of poison ivy I have ever had in my life (finally subsiding), and now Xavier having what the pediatrician is calling a cold, but I am pretty sure is the flu. Adam asked them point-blank about the possibility of it being the flu and doing testing (there have been no confirmed cases of H1N1 flu in our area), but the doctor's take on it was that the flu has been overblown and they aren't going to test for it. This seemed kind of pig-headed to me, delivering this declaration on the day when they announced the fifth death in the US from the swine flu, but what do I know. On the bright side, at least this should be behind him before our vacation.

Speaking of pigs ...

Xavier's teacher sent home some homework for him to work on. As he worked on it this morning, he looked up and asked Adam, "How much is a pound?"

Adam said, "A bag of frozen vegetables weighs about a pound."

Later, as Adam was reviewing Xavier's homework, he found a worksheet that went as follows (Xavier's answers in blue below):

A baby pig weighs 31 pounds.

What weighs less than a baby pig? A fly.

What weighs more than a baby pig? A building.

What weighs about the same as a baby pig? 31 bags of frozen vegetables.

World Travellers

2009-04-14T17:51:00.000-07:00

Once again, I have to apologize for not posting often enough. We went to see my parents, then I had JBoss un-training (a long story), then last week we went to my in-laws for Spring Break. I probably would have had ample time to post then, except that my in-laws do not have wifi (yet, although I hear my mother-in-law is pushing for it.)

Anyway, the kids are doing fine. Gwen got strep throat right before we left town (I think this is the third time she has come down with strep the day before a trip to see the in-laws -- not sure if there is some kind of connection there, or at least statistical probability.) Xavier is recovering from an allergic reaction to Banana Boat sunblock. But, otherwise, all is well here.

The kids had a good time at my in-laws. We went to Busch Gardens while we were there, and we made the mistake of taking the kids on the Elmo's Spire ride straight off. For the most part, I think the Sesame Street rides were a little "mature" for the preschool crowd one would typically associate with Sesame Street, but that's just my take on it. For example, take the Elmo's Spire ride: it is a lot like the Six Flags ride that gained notoriety a few years ago when a teenaged girl lost her feet on the ride (not that I think that is likely to happen on the Elmo's Spire ride -- I think it was a freak accident in the Six Flags case -- but just to give you an idea of what the ride was like.) Of course, just the fact that the ride is topped with a giant Elmo head made it too scary for me.

Anyway, I admit, I thought the ride looked a little advanced for my kids, and I guess I was right, because afterwards, it looked like Xav's first ride was going to be his last -- screaming, tears, the whole nine yards -- but we did manage to coax him onto a few other rides. Gwen, on the other hand, wanted to ride a bunch of other rides I would have guessed were too scary (Grover's Alpine Express -- a rollar coaster -- and the Battering Ram, among others), but she did draw the line at the Big Bad Wolf. While I was waiting in line with her for a Swing ride, though, she suddenly turned around, put her hand on my stomach, and said, "Now, I'm going on this ride all by myself, okay?" Sigh, my little girl is growing up. All the same, after all the scary rides, only Elmo's Spire was rated "horrible" by her standards.

After a long day of walking, walking, and more walking, we stopped for dinner. I really wanted to find someplace where we could eat indoors because I was freezing my tail off (it was pretty nippy that evening), but I was out-voted and we settled down to eat at a picnic table in the French "subdivision". After a few minutes of not moving, others at the table began to share my discomfort, and Xavier remarked. "It sure is cold out here, but it's kind of neat eating outside like this -- kind of like the way people ate in the old days!"

I sure felt old by the end of the day, but the kids are already making plans for their next trip to Busch Gardens. Ah, to be young and foolish ... and immune to the cold.

Putting Things in Perspective

2009-03-13T16:22:00.000-07:00

The kids love watching stop-animation Lego videos on YouTube. This is, of course, a supervised activity, because some of the stuff on there is highly inappropriate, even if it looks like it's for kids because they are done with Legos. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a large number of the "inappropriate" ones are posted by adolescent boys -- but I digress.

Last night, just after putting the kids to bed, I was heading downstairs with the laptop when I slipped on the second-to-bottom step and fell the rest of the way. The laptop was fine (it bounced off my hand), and, except for my pride, I was also okay. I guess my utter lack of grace is something else I don't have in common with Catwoman.

Anyway, Adam came running up. "Are you okay?"

Upstairs, Xavier cried, "Mommy!" and I heard the pitter-patter of little feet as he ran over to the top of the stairs. I looked up at his little worried face and thought about how much that little guy must love me.

"Mommy, is the laptop okay?" he asked, dispelling any confusion I may have had on that point.

Forest for the Trees

2009-03-12T19:17:00.000-07:00

Today while Gwen and Xavier were playing outside, Gwen tore big hole in the back of her jeans. She was horrified, but I told her not to worry about it. She moaned, "But it's embarrassing!"

Well, it was about time to call it a day anyway, so I brought the kids in. Gwen said, "I can't wait to change my pants!"

I said, "Well, there really is no point, because you'll be taking a bath in a minute anyway."

I set Gwen to work on her science project, then squared Xav away in his bath. I came back to see how Gwen was doing to discover that she was wearing her shirt ... and nothing else.

"Um, Gwen," I asked, "Where are your pants?"

"I had to take them off, Mom," she replied. "It was too embarrassing to leave them on!"

I guess I have a different definition of "embarrassing" than she does.

This morning as I was getting up, Adam asked me if I knew where our comb is. Now, usually in the morning I don't turn on our bedroom light, I just rely on the bathroom light to get me where I need to go (my coworkers are probably thinking, "So that explains her fashion sense!") Anyway, I turned on the bedroom light this morning, and, sure enough, found the comb.

Then I went into the bathroom to get ready for work. Suddenly I heard a pitter-patter-pitter-patter-pitter-patter of bare feet running across the floor. I looked in the doorway of the bathroom, and there stood Xavier with his bear, his eyes squinched shut against the brightness.

"Mommy, are you in there?" he called, even though, if he opened his eyes, he could have seen that I was.

Running with his eyes closed ... thank goodness that it is going to be a long, long time before he can drive the car.

Movie Madness

2009-02-23T15:54:00.001-08:00

This has been a pretty movie-heavy weekend for us (yes, someone is sick again, just a cold.) On Saturday night, we watched, "The Sound of Music." I always thought of that as kind of a family movie, but given Xavier's response, I guess not. His comment (the day after) was, "I liked the Sound of Music except for the sad parts."

One concept that was especially hard for Xavier to grasp was why Maria felt like she could not marry Captain Von Trapp (a match he was keen on from the first time Captain Von Trapp blew his whistle -- "Mommy, is she going to marry him?") We aren't Catholic, and so the concept of "nuns" is a bit alien to him. At one point, when Maria was back at the abbey, he asked again, "Why can't she marry Captain Von Trapp?"

"Because she is a novice, in training to be a nun," I explained patiently.

"And nuns can't get married?"

"No, they're kind of like priests, except they're women -- they don't marry."

"Not anybody?"

"Well, I think they are sort of married to Jesus."

"But no men in real life?"

"Nope."

Xavier pondered this. "Is that why they are called 'Nones'?"

We also watched "Batman: The Movie" this weekend. No, we're not talking about one of the ones with Michael Keaton. Nope, not the one with Val Kilmer, nor the one with George Clooney; not even one of the Christian Bale movies. Yep, we are talking about the 1966 "classic." Needless to say, Xavier loved it: Penguin and Riddler and Joker and Catwoman, oh my!

Lately I have been riding my bicycle to work, and I have succumbed to wearing skin-tight biking outfits (it's not quite as scary as it sounds -- I've toned up quite a lot.) Today I was wearing a black top with black pants when the kids got home from school.

Xavier looked at me appraisingly, and remarked, "You know, Mom, if your butt was less big, you would look quite a lot like Catwoman."

Another one of those moments when I am not sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.

Finally, the kids were talking about "bad fashion choices" in movies over supper tonight. Someone commented that Padme from the "Star Wars" movies had really bad hats, and I remarked, "Still, they were nothing compared to her hair."

"Oh, yeah!" Xavier lit up. "No one has badder hair than Padme!"

"Worse hair?" Adam said, attempting to correct Xavier's grammer.

"Oh, right!" Xavier cried. "Her hair is even worser than the Riddler's!"

Sick Skeletons

2009-02-03T17:15:00.000-08:00

The kids have been cycling illnesses between them this month. I think we may have had 24 fever-free hours between the end of Xavier's ear infection and the beginning of whatever Gwen has now. Oh well, I guess it could have been worse in both cases. I told Gwen in the car the other day that the woman with the octoplets (along with her six other kids) must be pretty easygoing, because someone HAS to be sick at that house all of the time.

One of the illnesses Gwen contracted was Fifth's Disease. The school nurse had mentioned it was going around in the school's weekly news letter. Gwen had gotten worked up about it, but I told her I thought she'd already had it. Evidently I was wrong, because there is no way I could have forgotten that rash if she had had it before.

The doctor, on the other hand, knew what it was as soon as she stepped into the examining room: "Welcome to the Wonders of Fifth Disease!" she said with a laugh.

Gwen started crying, and I said, "Gwen, don't worry! We've talked about this! This is only a big deal if you are pregnant, and you aren't pregnant!"

She looked up at me, her face redder than ever and whispered, "Are you sure?"

Now, this is one of those moments where one has to wonder: have I inadequately explained where babies come from, or is there something I should (but don't want to) know?

In the meantime, Xavier is still fully engaged with his Legos. The problem with Legos (especially the mini-action figures) is that little pieces end up getting lost all over the house (and, in some cases, forever.) Today he presented me with a little Lego skeleton with a black body and white arms (pieced together from two different skeletons) and he asked me what I thought.

I was in the midst of doing something, so I gave the noncommital, "Pretty cute, Xav!" response.

Now, if you know me, you know I like skeletons the way that some people like cats or holstein cows. I have a number of skeleton or skull knickknacks in my office and at home, and I used to have some skeleton pictures, too, although those have mostly been replaced by kid art at this point. Evidently this crossed Xavier's mind as well, because he asked, "Mommy, is there a skeleton you don't like? Do you like all skeletons?"

I thought this over, and replied, "Well, probably not all skeletons. If you were to come to me and say, 'Look, Mommy, I bought you our nextdoor neighbor's skeleton!' I probably wouldn't like that very much. After all, our nextdoor neighbor NEEDS his skeleton."

Xavier looked hurt. "But, Mommy, I bought it for you, though!"

Yep, I can't say either of the kids are doing much to reassure me as to the state of their mental healths.

Likes and dislikes

2009-01-17T16:27:00.001-08:00

The other day the kids were home from school due to the cold weather. As Adam fed them leftover lasagna for lunch, Xavier -- who had announced that he LOVED lasagna the night before and that he was just like Garfield, he loved lasagna so much -- announced that he was tired of lasagna. This is typical Xavier behavior, and we take it as it comes.

Shortly thereafter, Adam told the kids to finish up with lunch so they could go to the store. Xavier threw his head back, and groaned, "But, Da-ad! I wanted to play legos with Gwen after lunch!"

Gwen -- the long-suffering sister -- rolled her eyes and said, "Well, I don't think the break will kill us."

Xavier glared at his sister and said, "You used to love playing legos!"

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little tired, that's all," she muttered, taking a drink of milk.

Mystified, Xavier said, "That doesn't make sense -- how can you love legos one day and not another?"

Adam said, "You can have too much of a good thing, and even if you like something a lot, you can get tired of it ... like lasagna."

Gwen added, "And then there are things you can never get tired of, like coconut ice cream!"

"Well, some people might get tired of coconut ice cream," Adam commented. "Some people don't like coconut, for example."

Gwen looked skeptical. "Well, no one could ever get tired of ice cream, then."

Adam said, "Well, sure, some people might."

"No," Gwen insisted.

Catching on, Xavier said, "Sure they can. They might be lactose intolerant!"

Bat ... who?

2009-01-11T17:28:00.000-08:00

I bought Xavier a C3 Batglider (a cheap Lego knockoff, except I foolishly bought it on eBay) as an incentive to get him to learn his alphabet flash cards. It seems to have worked, because he learned them.

This kit comes with lego-like action figures of Batman and Catwoman. Batman even has an alternative "armored" body. Xavier arranged and rearranged the body parts to build the ultimate Batman hero. I've attached a picture of Batman with some of his friends.

Now, the first time I saw this Batman "configuration," I noticed something ... unusual. In case you have not clued in, Batman has a couple of U-shaped details on his chest.

"Um, Xav," I said. "Does Batman seem a bit ... buxom to you?"

"Mo-om!" he snapped. "Those aren't breasts! Those are his pecs!"

I was willing to let it go at that, but someone (probably Adam) remarked that those "pecs" are, um, remarkably large, given Batman's build. "They aren't breasts!" Xavier insisted. "They're pockets -- for his pencils and stuff."

For the rest of the day, whenever I looked at him playing with the legos, he would reiterate the point: "Don't even think it, Mom! They're POCKETS!"

I guess that everyone knows Batman is kind of a geek -- building the Batmobile, his weapons and all. I guess it makes sense that he wouldn't let a little thing like "streamlining" keep him from being prepared.

Bathtime

2009-01-03T16:49:00.000-08:00

Typically, our evening schedule is:

4:00 - 5:00 Play outside
5:00 - 5:10 Play outside for ten more minutes (because the kids aren't ready to go in)
5:10 - 5:15 Play outside for five more minutes (because the kids aren't ready to go in)
5:15 - 5:16 Play outside for one more minute (you know why)
5:16 - 5:20 Listen to the kids bellyache about having to go in while we go inside.
5:20 - 5:30 Give Xavier a bath.
5:30 - 5:40 Let Xavier play in the tub while Gwen has a shower in the other bathroom.
5:40 - 5:50 Get Xavier out of the tub.

Well, this being holiday break and all, our schedule was thrown off a little, and last night I ended up having to give Xavier his bath before dinner and Gwen her shower after dinner.

As it turns out, this didn't work out so well. Xavier's bath went without a hitch, but this was the schedule of Gwen's shower:

6:40 Gwen gets in the shower. Mom stands by in case help is needed.
6:41 Xavier trots into the bathroom, singing show tunes as he is wont to do
6:42 Xavier trots out
6:43 Xavier trots back in with a stack full of dishes (a long ago gift from Nana) and stacks them beside the sink.
6:44 Announcing that he is "washing dishes," Xavier starts running water in the sink. Gwen screams that the water has gotten hot.
6:45 Mom helps Xavier put the dishes away
6:46 Mom returns to the bathroom to help Gwen wash her hair
6:47 Xavier trots back in with a robotic arm toy that Nana got him for Christmas this year. He proceeds to try to pick up toothbrushes with it. He fails.
6:48 Boring of this sport, Xavier tries to grab the hem of Mom's shirt with the robot arm. He misses, grabbing her behind instead.
6:49 Xavier abandons the robot arm as he flees in terror from the wrath of Mom.

I guess, in the grand scheme of things, the difference was nil, since it still took about ten minutes to get Gwen through her shower. Still, I have to admit, I have learned my lesson that it is best to distract him while I go through that process.

Either that, or I need to be especially wary of gifts from Nana.

Happy New Year and Watch Out for the Goose Mob!

2009-01-02T13:59:00.000-08:00

Hi all! I hope you had a wonderful New Year and that I didn't miss anyone with my letters (except you, Tania and Mike -- I have to find your address, I know it is around here somewhere ...) If your name is not Tania or Mike, blame the postal service.

Anyway ... Adam had to work today. There was a light snow falling, and I decided to take the kids to a local park where we like to hike. There is a big pond there (although last time we went there, it had dried up to a big swamp) and all kinds of opportunity to view wildlife.

Well, when we got there, it was clear that we weren't going to see a lot of wildlife because the kids were singing songs off of my new Beethoven's Wig CD at the tops of their lungs. Oh well, I guess that meant that the bears heard us coming. As we approached the pond (reverted to its usual depths), we did see, halfway across the frozen water, the one form of wildlife that does not flee from noisy children: Canada Geese.

Needless to say, the geese decided that we might have brought them a snack, and they began waddling our way (why they didn't fly, I'm not sure, but maybe they thought they looked more menacing this way.) I positioned the kids so I could take a picture of them with the geese coming up behind, but Xavier kept clowning around. Finally, exasperated, I said, "Xav! We need to pose for this picture and move on, or the geese are going to think that we are here to give them a handout!"

Xavier thought this was funny, so after the picture was taken (not entirely the success I was hoping for), he turned around and yelled, "Come on, geese! We have a handout for you! We have a handout for you!"

"Xavier, come on!" I called. "If they get there and they find out you are teasing them, they might break your arm!" This comes from a story my dad (Grandpa) told me about how, when he was a kid, he was knocked down by a goose and broke his arm.

"No ... they couldn't do that!" Xavier laughed.

"They could -- it happened to Grandpa once." Gwen and I were already heading down the path, and Xavier now reluctantly followed.

"Really?" he asked, so I had to tell him the story as well as I remembered it (not very.)

Meanwhile, we approached a branch in the path, one way leading back to the parking lot, the other onwards around the pond. To my surprise, Gwen headed down the branch toward the parking lot.

"Gwen! Where are you going?" I asked. "Are you going back to the car?"

Without looking back, she replied semi-hysterically, "Yes!"

"But why? We just got here!"

"I know!" she called. "But I'm afraid those geese will catch us and break our arms!"

Watch out for the Goose Mafia -- and never go to the park without bringing a "Protection Fee."

Out of the mouths of babes

2008-12-29T18:43:00.000-08:00

We were at the ice cream store today. It's a new shop, and when I ordered the kids' "small" ice creams, they came in larger cups than they were expecting.

We were the only customers in the shop when we started, but a woman came in and ordered an ice cream. I hardly took notice of her until Gwen remarked, "WOW! She's getting a lot of ice cream -- is that a size LARGE?"

I shushed her and said, "No, couldn't be -- I'm sure it is just a medium-sized cup. She eats more than you because she is bigger than you, that's all."

Xavier chimes in (now, keep in mind, Xavier has no volume control). "No, it's NOT a MEDIUM, Mommy! See, that matches the cup on the end. That means it's a LARGE!"

"That's an awful lot of ice cream!" Gwen concurred. Meanwhile, I tried to melt under the table.

The kids insisted on further examining the size of the "LARGE" ice cream cup, but thankfully they waited until the woman left the shop.

Oh well, at least in this case the woman was a stranger. I was not so lucky during a Christmas Eve incident with Xavier and one of my coworkers ...

I have a new coworker from China. I'll call him "Xin" to protect the innocent. His cube is two down from mine. I will also mention (for those who don't know us so well) that Gwen is blond and blue-eyed, and Xavier is Korean. Nuff said.

The office is pretty dead this week, but I had to run into the office on Christmas Eve to water my plants and drop off a power cord for my boss. I had the kids with me, and I was somewhat surprised to run into Xin at the office. I introduced him to the kids, he made admiring comments, and we headed down the extra ten feet or so to my cube.

As soon as we stepped into my cube, Xavier announces, "Mommy! That man looked like Jackie Chan!"

Now, I personally think Jackie Chan is a nice-looking guy, but I can see where some people might not like to be described as such. Planning to explain it more detail later, I said, "Xav, shhh! No!"

"Yes he does, Mommy! He looks JUST LIKE Jackie Chan!"

Mortified, I was careful not to walk past Xin's cube on my way out.

Once we were in the van, I explained to Xavier, "Xav, although I know you did not mean it as an insult, some people might not like to be described as looking like Jackie Chan. I admit, he looks more like Jackie Chan than you do, and certainly more like Jackie Chan than Gwen does, but he may not feel like he looks like Jackie Chan, and he may not WANT to look like Jackie Chan."

"Mom!" Xavier moaned, appalled. "I don't look ANYTHING like Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan is Chinese, and I'm KOREAN!"

I guess Xin is not the only one who may not want to look like Jackie Chan.

The holiday letter is off (except for a select few for people I need to get addresses for.) I hope you all had a Merry Christmas (oh, I am such a rebel!) and that you have a wonderful 2009!

Cats Are Not Dead, Either

2008-12-21T19:18:00.000-08:00

I mention this because in tying up the loose ends of my holiday letter (yes, there will be one this year, guilted as I was by Wendy Morgenstern and some relatives), I realized I had not said anything about the cats.

At sixteen, Grendel refuses to show her age. Sure, she used to kill flies with her bare paws, then toy dinosaurs, now Xavier's socks ... but she's still got it, baby. (Actually, although she makes a lot of noise about killing Xavier's socks, it does save us the bother of trying to figure out where he has left them.) Her appetite is beginning to slack off, though, leading us to offer her more tantalizing treats, which brings us to ...

... Caliban, who at thirteen, is even fatter than ever (probably pushing nineteen pounds now, although at 17.5 pounds the vet said he was "big-boned," so nineteen pounds is not quite as bad as it sounds.) Still, any tips on how we can keep our thin cat from getting thinner while preventing our fat cat from getting fatter would be appreciated.

And about that Christmas letter ... don't be surprised if you ring in the New Year before you see it. If you don't get one at all, you won't be missing much (since you get the best from this Blog), but if you know me personally and don't get one, it is because I don't know your address. If you know me personally, you know how to reach me and get added to my mailing list.

Adam and I (like many parents) frequently cannot watch a movie in a single evening because the kids get to bed late, and we are too exhausted to stay up much later. Just the other night, Adam and I were watching the third installment of "The Dark Knight," which means we were in the middle of a scene with lots of explosions, when suddenly Xavier appeared in the doorway of the living room, one hand on his hip.

He shouted indignantly, "What's the matter with you people? Dontcha know that people are trying to sleep in here?"

Then, in a more conversational tone, "So, whatcha watching?"

Not dead again ...

2008-12-14T17:03:00.000-08:00

... just busy. First there was our Halloween party, then new flooring on our second floor, then Thanksgiving, then Xavier's birthday party, then Xavier's party rescheduled ...

Anyway, we're fine and looking forward to the holidays. On our travels over Thanksgiving, we listened to "The Hobbit" on DVD in the car. Xavier found himself drawn to the character of Golom (who isn't)? He asked us some questions about Golom, and this morning one thing led to another, and I ended up showing the kids a few "harmless" scenes from the Lord of the Rings Two Towers movie.

I say "harmless" in quotes because Xavier now aspires to be Golom, evidently. He spent much of the morning running around the house on all fours saying, "My precious!" and emulating some of the character's charming ticks. He even disassembled a bicycle horn so he would have a "ring" to wear. Actually, it is kind of scary how well he can carry off the act.

Evidently, Xavier has not been honing his tact skills, either. Last week, he looked up at me and said, "Mom, you have a LOT of smile lines. You look like an old apple!" I laughed, then gave him a mini-lecture on how women don't like to be described as "Old." I can tell the lesson really stuck with him ... when I was working from home the other day when he was home sick, he climbed into my lap. He saw a picture of me on the website I was working on (shrunk to 85 by 85 pixels), and said, "Gee, Mom, that person looks a lot like you ... except less apple-like."

I'm telling you, I'm never going to let myself be represented in more than 85x85 ever again.

Just when you thought the old days were behind you ...

2008-10-21T19:17:00.001-07:00

The other day, I was talking to Adam on the phone while the kids were waiting for the bus. I said something like, "Ah, in the good old days, when we could make an appointment with a contractor and he would actually show up."

"In the good old days," Adam echoed.

Xavier, who could only hear Adam's side of the conversation said, "Ah, the good old days ... when you used to brush my teeth for me!"

Ha, ha, Xavier is such a kidder ... or so we thought, until he had his dental appointment today.

Guess what? It looks like the good old days have returned.

Variations on School House Rock

2008-10-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I am helping Gwen with her spelling homework, I give her little spelling tips, sometimes in the form of jingles that I learned as I was getting my undergraduate degree in Sesame Street and Electric Company. OK, I guess I didn't quite get my degree in PBS Educational programs, but I might have if my brother hadn't destroyed the TV set when I was six. All the same, some of those jingles are memorable, as is evidenced by the fact that Xavier counts on his fingers to identify the letter "C", but he can sing, "T-I-O-N, shun Shun SHUN SHUN, T-I-O-eN, shun, Shun, SHUN, SHUN!" with the best of them.

Anyway, seeing how helpful these little jingles can be, I bought the kids a CD of some of the classic School House Rock songs that they used to play on Saturday Morning cartoons back in the 70s and 80s. In order to save myself the embarrassment of being caught singing, "To use when your happy -- HOORAY! -- or sad -- Awww -- or frightened -- EEEK! -- or mad -- RATS!" in my cube at work, I also got "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks" which has a group of contemporary artists doing their interpretations of some of these classic tunes.

One of the songs on this "Schoolhouse Rock Rocks" album is a rap version of "Mr. Morton." I admit, I am not familiar with the original song, but you don't need to be to get the gist of it:

Mr. Morton is the subject of my story; what the predicate says, he does.
Mr. Morton is the subject of my story; what the predicate says, he does.

Actually, the concept is kind of cool, but this chorus gets repeated OVER and OVER through the song. Xavier doesn't even know what a predicate is, but he has this song down pat.

For example, this evening at bedtime, I was tickling him on the floor and I had the inane chorus of this song running through my head. Teasing him, I said, "Mr. Xavier is the subject of my story ..."

"... and what the predicate says, he doesn't do!" Xavier chimed in.

Ah, it is so true.

Of course, by the time we had him tucked in, Xavier had created a few alternate lines, like "Mr. Xavier is the subject of my story, what the Republicans say, he doesn't do" and "Mr, Xavier is the subject of my story; what the president says, he doesn't do." Well, at least I have to agree with his political inclinations.

Halloween and Other Traditions

2008-10-14T19:18:00.000-07:00

Tonight, as a special treat, I drove the kids around town before bedtime to look at Halloween lights. I was a little disappointed -- there weren't quite as many up as I had hoped -- but we did see a few truly spectacular displays (most of them, as we discovered on our way back home, were on our street.)

Still, the kids were enthusiastic, and I think maybe they got a little too excited. When we pulled into our garage and got out of the car, Gwen asked in a quavering voice, "Who turned on the light?"

"The light comes on automatically when the garage door goes up," I replied. "Why? Who did you think turned it on?"

She murmured softly, "I thought it might have been a ghost!"

Still, her response was topped by Xavier. When we walked into the house, Adam called, "Did you have fun? Did you see anything scary?"

"Oh, yeah!" Xavier replied in hushed, but emphatic, tones. "We saw FIVE McCain-Palin signs!"

On Politics and Bedsheets

2008-10-04T17:46:00.001-07:00

(This is to make up for my unfunny, but very necessary, BLOG below) ...

My kids are very much into politics. As I mentioned before, Xavier intends to vote for Iraq Obama (despite our failed attempts to teach him to say Barack ... luckily, he is too young to read, so he is dependent on us to pull the lever), and Gwen, with her strong interest in environmental issues, is likely to join the Green Party when she gets older.

And yet, of late, they fight over who gets to put the Palin-McCain sheets on their bed. (Xav's got them this time -- next time will be Gwen's turn.)

If you are wondering where I managed to procure politically-themed sheets, you need go no further than your local Target, then look for Nickolodean-themed sheets.

Specifically Dora the Explorer. And, no, the irony has not escaped them that the part of McCain is being played by Dora's best friend, Boots the Monkey.

All the same, I have to thank the McCain-Palin campaign. Two months ago, neither of my kids would have been caught dead with those old Dora the Explorer sheets on their bed. And I expect on the weekend after Election Day, those sheets will be on their way to Good Will.

Rainbows

2008-10-04T17:15:00.000-07:00

This is not a funny BLOG, just to warn you.

This week we have seen a lot of rainbows. First we went walking with my friend Vicky, who took us on a hike in a little-known park with lots of caves (we "forgot" the flashlight), a waterfall, and dog poop (this just after passing a sign that says, "No dogs.") The hike was fun, although had I known that we would have to cross the scariest bridge known to humankind IN OUR CAR, I might have brought the Civic instead of the van.

No, seriously, Vicky, we all had a great time, and the kids are already planning our next adventure with you. In the meantime, don't bother going to the Pond as we had discussed unless you like a view of mosquitos and decay -- it looks like the drought got it.

Anyway, we saw a rainbow that day, and we saw two rainbows the next day (one all the more amazing, because it was not raining.) We consider rainbows lucky (for fun.) We also saw several crickets this week (also signs of good luck), and a salamander and a deer.

Although we always like good luck, we don't need it as much as my friend and former boss Henry. Henry is leaving for Iraq tomorrow; he is half a year from retirement from the Reserves, and he has been called up to serve a year for our United States. He has two kids and a business, so this will be a hardship for him, but he is going anyway because he feels this is the right thing to do.

If we could send him our luck, we would. In the meantime, we will send him and his family our prayers, and hope you do likewise. I am adding his blog to my list so you can read about his adventures as well.

Thank you and take care!

On Insects and the Internet

2008-09-21T16:57:00.000-07:00

I have started riding my bicycle to work when I am not sick (which means I drove a lot last week -- one of the hazards of having kids who bring bugs home.) When I am not riding my bicycle, however, it lives in my garage. Since it is relatively dark when I ride to work in the morning, I have lights on the bicycle to keep me safe.

A couple of weeks ago, when I arrived at work, I started to remove the headlight (so it doesn't get stolen) and I noticed that it looked like there was something underneath the light. As I watched, a wasp crawled out from under the light and began walking back and forth across the top of the top of the headlight. Given that I didn't have anything handy to swat it with, I opted to abandon the light, figuring that the wasp would keep anyone from stealing it. Still, I marvelled at my good luck at not getting stung.

When the kids called while they were waiting for the bus, I told Gwen the story about the wasp.

"Did you swat it?" she asked.

"No, honey, I didn't have anything to swat it with."

"What about a flyswatter?"

I laughed. "Honey, I don't carry a flyswatter around in my backpack."

"Well, you should," she said sternly. "From now on, you need to start carrying a flyswatter with you in case this sort of thing comes up again!"

Well! I guess the Gwen has spoken!

Today we were playing outside, and Xavier suddenly announced, "I think it is time to decorate the driveway again!" He ran into the garage and came back out with a box of chalk we keep in there just for this purpose.

As he got to work, he said, "Today's driveway decorations are brought to you by Xavier! If you have any questions, go to www.chalk.com for more information."

Girl's Night Out

2008-09-19T17:06:00.000-07:00

I recently started a new job. An email circulated inviting the women of my company to dinner and a movie, a "Women's Night Out," as it were. I decided to go, as it would be a good opportunity to get to know my coworkers better.

The kids were not thrilled with this.

As I was heading for the door, Gwen said, "So, this is a Women's Night Out?"

I replied, "Yes, it is."

"Well, you know, I'm a woman," she countered. "Can I come?"

I smiled. "Well, this is for women who work at XYZ Company. You don't work there."

"I work real hard at school!" she replied hopefully.

Xavier was making a card after his snack today. "Mom, how do you spell, 'Get'?"

"G," I began.

He started to write, then suddenly handed me the card and a pencil. "Why don't you write it for me?"

I gave him a look, then said, "Okay, 'get': G-E-T. What's next?"

"Well."

"'Well': W-E-L-L. What's next?"

"Mom."

Ah, the height of discretion, that one. Next he'll be inviting me to make out checks to myself.

Stay on Target!

2008-09-13T19:24:00.000-07:00

Well, it took three weeks into a school year for Xavier to catch some kind of respiratory virus. That may be some kind of record for him.

On the bright side, so far he has been taking it pretty well. Last night, however, the quality of his cough changed to more of a painfully bronchial sound and he developed a fever, so this morning Adam bullied the receptionist at our pediatrician's into granting us a visit (they work really hard to keep you from coming in -- I think they must have more patients than they can handle.)

Of course, by the time we got to the pediatrician's, his cough had subsided for the morning and the fever from yesterday never resurfaced, so he was a livewire by the time we were called back, and the only way I could get him to settle down was to give him a pen so he could draw on the paper on the examining table.

The pediatrician on call came in a few minutes after Xavier had begun work. He started off, "So tell me what's going --" then glanced at Xavier's work, then the chart. "Wow, his artwork is really advanced for his age!"

I glanced at Xavier's work, and candidly thought that they mostly looked like scribbles to me, but I didn't say so. Instead, I launched into my status report: "Well, he has had this cough since Monday, but last night he got a fever and he sounded more bronchial, and with his asthma --"

"Does he draw a lot at home? Have an easel?"

"Umm, yeah, he draws a lot at home, no easel. Anyway, we were worried about his asthma --"

"You should really get him a sketchbook or something."

I finally managed to get him to focus more on the subject at hand -- Xavier's cough. Now, I don't mean to downplay Xavier's love of drawing -- his work is very cute, and I would need a building the size of the Louvre to store all the "art" he tries to send with me to work -- and while I would agree that he is probably ahead of his grade, I guess my expectations are tempered by the work of, say, my niece Chloe, who is a really talented painter and has been painting since she was three.

The pediatrician completed his examination (after I took my pen away from Xavier and got him to focus on the pediatrician, at least until he snagged the pediatrician's pen), and stepped back with a thoughtful look. "It's just a bad cold," he said. "Give him his asthma meds every four hours for the next couple of days." He looked at Xavier thoughtfully for a couple more minutes. "I guess we don't know anything about his biological parents?"

"No, I'm afraid not," I said, thinking, once again, how nice it would be to know more about their medical histories.

"Too bad," he said. "It would be interesting to know if they were artists, too."

Whew! As if Xavier's head wasn't big enough already!

Case in point: as we were waiting to go in for our visit, we walked around the parking lot (we were a little early), and as I noted another woman leaving with a small boy, I said, "Look, Xavier, there is another little boy seeing the doctor today, too!" As he looked up, I noted, "I guess he is a little smaller than you, though."

"Yeah," Xavier agreed. "But not as cute!"

And, one more Xavier story ... tonight, as Adam was kissing Xavier good night, Xavier asked, "Daddy, why is my nose squashed and my face round, while your face is oval and your nose is stuck up?"

Kids say the darnedest things.

Priorities

2008-08-25T18:58:00.000-07:00

Every morning, Gwen and Xavier call me while they wait for the school bus and give me the "Kid Report." We do this in part so the kids can practice dialing the phone, but it also lets me know how the kids are doing. Usually when the kids are done talking to me, Adam takes over until the bus comes or I need to get back to work.

This morning was no different. Gwen called and let me know how she was doing, then Xavier took over and let me know what he thought he would be doing at school.

When Adam took over, he was in the midst of chatting about his plans for the day, when suddenly he said, "Xav! Where are you going? What? What? You have to go to the bathroom?!? But the bus will be here -- I gotta go. [Click]"

I can just picture Xavier thinking, "Well, Mom would never leave if I was in the bathroom ..."

Lazy Summer

2008-08-24T12:24:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know, I didn't post very much this summer. I was busy between travel, job-hunting, more travel, more job-hunting, hitting people up for references, etc. On the bright side, I did find a new job, so hopefully things will settle down this fall.

One of the high points of this summer was going to see my parents July 4th weekend. We took my five-year-old niece, Chloe, with us, and she was probably the funniest of the three kids that weekend. Some highlights:

The mosquitos are pretty aggressive in the small town where my parents live, so whenever we went to the playground (which happened two or three times a day), I would hose the kids down with bug spray as we left the house. Since bug spray (with Deet!) smells awful in its native form, I had "Tropical Fresh" scented spray. I've been using this "flavor" for six years on my own kids, but evidently it was too tempting for Chloe. After one exclamation of, "Chloe, don't lick the bug spray off your legs!" though, she got the idea.
We went to the local 4th of July festival at the church in my parent's town. While there, my father ran into a friend of his. I don't remember her name (I'll call her Sherry). My Dad said, "Hi, Sherry, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Mandy, and my grandchildren, Miranda, Xavier, and Chloe." Sherry said hello, and added, "I sure wish my grandkids could be here, too!" Chloe piped up, "Why aren't they? Are they dead?"
On the way home, Chloe announced that she needed to use the bathroom, so we pulled off at a Wilco gas station. As I gathered the girls up to head to the restroom, Adam said to Xavier, "So, which do you want to do first -- pump gas or go to the bathroom?" (I should note that Xavier would not actually be involved in the actual pumping of the gas.) Chloe looked around and cried, "But I want to pump gas!" Adam said, "But, Chloe, you said you needed to use the bathroom!" Chloe burst into tears, "But I want to pump gas!" Needless to say, ten minutes later Adam was pumping gas while Gwen, Xavier, and Chloe supervised.

Lest you think my kids are falling down on the job ...

My kids have become quite fond of Mystery Science Theater 3000 (which we can check out from Netflix.) Naturally, Adam and I screen the videos before letting the kids watch them, but most of them are pretty safe. In one of the videos, Hercules Unchained, the comedians running the show created a Steve-finder. To be honest, when Adam was screening the video for appropriateness, I was busy finishing up some work for my last job, but I believe the gist of it was that it was supposed to "detect" movies with B-grade actor Steve Hunter in it (who played Hercules in the movie.)

Xavier was evidently inspired by the "Steve-finder," and a couple of days later he told Adam that he had invented the Stud-finder.

Startled, Adam, asked what it does.

Xavier explained, "Well, Dad, it looks for studs. And when it finds one, it says 'A-boing! A-boing! A-boing! A-boing!'"

Adam was very relieved to find that by "stud," Xavier was referring to the little round thingies that stick out of legos.

After another episode of Mystery Science Theater (one based on an old Air Force propaganda film), we asked Gwen and Xavier what they thought. Gwen remarked, "It was pretty good, but there was too much sex in it."

Adam and I looked at each other, and I said, "Gee, I really don't remember there being any sex in that movie."

Gwen laughed. "I'm just joking! We don't even know what that is!"

I said, "Well, sex is what two people do in order to make a baby." (We have explained -- at a high level -- where babies come from.)

Xavier glanced at Gwen. "There certainly wasn't any of that!" he remarked.

Then there was the Mystery Science Theater we screened and deemed inappropriate. When Gwen asked why, I replied, "There was too much violence and bad language."

Xavier asked, "So it wasn't because there was too much of people trying to adopt babies, then?"

Well, there are many more anecdotes, but Xavier has painted my face like a mummy and wants me to chase them around the yard. Although I know the housing market is slow right now, I can guarantee that in the next week several houses in my neighborhood are going to hit the market, and my guess is that they'll be going cheap.

Back to School

2008-08-20T17:51:00.000-07:00

Today I put my kids on the school bus (two buses, in fact) for the first day of school. This was Xavier's first day of kindergarten; I'm afraid there was much crying and carrying on when he climbed on the bus, quite the scene. Luckily, I managed to pull myself together before I got to work.

No, seriously, the kids were quite excited about the beginning of the school year. We were out waiting for the bus twenty minutes early (evidently, given when the bus arrived.) I stepped inside the house for five seconds to grab the camera, and came back out to see one of our neighbors pulling away as the kids chorused, "Goodbye!"

"Oh, was Mr. Ceguy saying hello to you guys?" I asked.

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know who the heck that was," he replied.

Note to self: More "don't talk to strangers" training, and must get the kids to know their neighbors better.

I took pictures of the kids until the batteries on the camera died. Adam and I stood outside with the kids, swatting insects and sweating, and finally a school bus came around the corner. It stopped in front of our house, and the driver said, as the kids clambered on board, "I really don't think this is your bus, but I can take them to school if you want."

I hesitated. There is a mystery bus that -- for some reason -- goes through our neighborhood even though it doesn't appear to pick anyone up here. I think maybe the driver has a phobia about that stretch of road that connects the two entrances to our subdivision, because it certainly isn't a short-cut for him to come through this way. The number on the side of the bus was 78; my kids are supposed to ride bus 14, but one thing we have learned over the years is, you can't actually trust the number on the bus. "Our kids are supposed to ride bus 14," I said.

"Yeah, this isn't their bus, but I can take them to school if you like."

I decided we'd better wait for their bus -- the last thing we needed was for their "real" driver to be confused over whether this was a "real" stop or not. Of course, in the meantime, the kids were already on the bus.

"You'd better come get them off," the driver said -- I guess he was afraid to tell them so himself -- so I did. The bus was nearly empty, and the kids were sitting together. "C'mon guys, this isn't your bus," I said.

They hopped off, amiable enough, and as bus 78 headed down the street -- on its mysterious mission -- bus 14 rounded the corner. Now, while bus 78 was nearly empty, the same could not be said of bus 14; as the kids climbed on board, the bus driver hollered, "Squeeze together and make room!" And to us, she commented, "There are a LOT of new kids this year." Kind of makes me wonder why bus 78 isn't our bus ...

When the bus pulled up at the end of the day, Xavier sprang off the bus as if catapulted and leapt into my arms -- I'm not even sure he touched the ground in between. "I had a GREAT day, Mom!" he shouted. Thank goodness.

Your lips say, "No, no," but there is "Yes, yes," in your ... nose?

2008-06-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, we are all still alive. Things have been a little crazy here, lately -- spring comes, and suddenly we have more chores to do. Anyway, we're here!

A warning to the weak of stomach -- the words "booger" and "snot" appear in this entry, quite a lot, really. Proceed with caution!

Still reading? Okay.

Today, after the kids and I dropped the babysitter off, I returned to work, and Xavier went to get a Kleenex. Now, if you know me, you know I live in constant dread of Xavier getting sick because of his asthma, and, if you know Xavier, you know he would rather have snot running down his chin than blow his nose. So, for him to grab a Kleenex -- unprompted by me -- set off a battalion of red flags.

"Xav, is your nose runny?" I asked.

"No," he replied. "I just have something in it."

"Is it a big booger?" I asked. Sometimes Xavier gets big dry boogers in his nose -- yes, because he hates to blow it -- and said boogers inhibit his ability to breathe through one nostril.

"No," he said.

"Here, let me take a look." Looking up his nose -- yes, this is something mothers sometimes have to do -- I could indeed see that there was an obstruction up there. "Yup, looks like a big booger," I said. "Let's go upstairs and see if we can get that out with a Q-Tip."

"I think it's a popcorn kernel," Xavier suggested as we started up the stairs.

I laughed. "A popcorn kernel? No. How on earth could you get a popcorn kernel up there?"

Xavier shrugged. "I don't know."

Then again, they did have popcorn for a snack ... surely Xavier's too old to ... "Xavier, did you STICK a popcorn kernel in your nose?"

Innocent eyes. "No."

All righty then. Reassured, I went to work with the Q-Tip, but unlike most boogers -- which either break up or stick to the Q-Tip -- this stubbornly held together and stayed in the back of his nose. I readjusted his position so I could see up his nose better, and what I saw was --

A popcorn kernel.

Now, a completely different approach is required for a popcorn kernel than for a booger. Luckily, after a diligent regimen of sealing the other side his nose while having him do aggressive blowing, then massaging his nose, we managed to pop the offending kernel out.

Trip to the ER averted, I said, "Now, Xavier. Did you stick a popcorn kernel in your nose?"

Innocent eyes. "No, I don't know how it got up there."

"Xavier, are you sure you didn't put that kernel in your nose?"

He dropped his gaze and whispered, "I'm afraid that you'll be mad at me ..."

Needless to say, I managed to extract a confession at last. And after a lengthy discussion about how you should never stick anything into any of the holes in your body (specifically ears and nose), I think he got the point.

All the same, I don't think I'll ever look at popcorn the same way again.

In other news, my friends Tania and Mike welcomed a new member of their family, Owen Michael, into the world yesterday. He weighed in at 7lb 7oz, and is 20 inches long. Mother and baby are doing fine.

Congratulations, guys, and good luck! I can't wait to hear stories about the things you end up finding in his nose!

Election Day

2008-05-10T19:01:00.000-07:00

As most of the nation sat on the edges of their seats on Tuesday waiting to find out what North Carolina and Indiana would decide, our hometown waited with baited breath for the outcome of local Town Council elections.

Well, "baited breath" is probably an exaggeration, because the town election was the least well-attended in years. But I was there, with Xav in tow, doing my civic duty. After checking in, the poll worker took us to our voting booth and I talked Xavier through the process.

When we stepped out, she put an "I voted!" sticker on Xavier's chest, and gave him one to put on me (he put it on my stomach), and said, "Well, young man, I hope you learned a lot about the election process today."

Xavier replied casually, "Yeah, well, I voted for Iraq Obama, but I'm not sure who my mom voted for."

Evidently Xavier was in the wrong state.

April Showers

2008-04-29T18:08:00.000-07:00

It's hard to believe April is almost over. What a month! Gwen turned seven, we had visits with both sets of grandparents, Xavier had a trip to the ER for croup, and Gwen did the diabetes walk (she collected $149 for the cause -- thanks to everyone who contributed!) If Gwen still owes you a thank-you note for a birthday gift or donation to the diabetes walk, we're still working on those. Since she is writing them all herself, it is taking her awhile.

When Gwen got home from school today, she seemed a little subdued, but I was able to cheer her up in a hurry by showing the "Scary Book" magazine (known to some as the American Girl doll catalog, or to Xav, the "Clone" catalog.) The gist of this product is that you can buy a doll (for $90) that looks vaguely like you (or like you if you were mass-produced, as they are) and then you can buy really expensive matching clothes sets so you and the mass-produced version of you (or, as Xav puts it, your clone) can look alike. If the concept alone does not scare you, the prices will -- these doll outfits cost more than clothes I buy Gwen at Target.

Xav, of course, is just disappointed that they don't make "clones" for boys.

Anyway, this catalog cheered her considerably until dinner, when, left with the boring prospect of eating, her thoughts were able to turn back to the events of the day. Suddenly she announced, "Jack is moving."

Now, if you don't remember Jack, go back and read the post from Halloween 2007. Jack and Gwen have been "dating" since kindergarten (well, insomuch as you can be "dating" someone you never see outside of school.) We've tried to set up playdates, but something (usually his parents) has kept them from happening. I'm not sure what the attraction was -- they have vastly different interests, she is Teacher's Pet while he's the one who gets sent to the principal's office every day ... yet they always describe each other as girlfriend and boyfriend. I guess opposites attract.

Back to the story -- this was big news. "Moving? Where is he moving to?"

"West Virginia. He says his dad doesn't like the municipal pool, so they are going to move to where they can have their own pool and hot tub," Gwen replied.

"Um, I don't think that's why they are moving. Probably Jack's parents got new jobs, and that is why they are moving," Adam suggested.

Gwen gave him a withering look that clearly showed him what she thought of that theory (a foretaste of the future no doubt), and said, "Well, that's not what he said. He said that his dad didn't like the municipal pool." (Please notice the italics on "Well," "not," and "said" above. They are very important.)

Anyway, Adam took Xavier up to brush his teeth while Gwen finished her supper, but now that she only had food to distract, it took her about five seconds to dissolve into tears. Since I sympathy cough with Xav and sympathy cry with Gwen, about five seconds later I was blubbering, too. Adam came back in to wash the dishes, while I looked around desperately for something to distract Gwen and save us both.

"Where ... where did the Scary Book go?" I asked, looking around.

"What, the American Girl catalog? I put it in the recycling bin," Adam replied.

There are few times when I would go dumpster-diving for a catalog (or much of anything, really). But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Doh!

2008-04-20T16:28:00.001-07:00

Yes, I foolishly included my email address in my last post -- now I have to close that account because as of 3:40 or so this morning, it became a spam sender as well as a recipient. There's nothing like opening your email account and seeing "You have 2207 new emails!" And they are still coming.

So, if you know me, you can either use my work email or call me and I will give you my new email (when I have it.) If you don't know me ... well, just don't make the same mistake I did!

April Flus

2008-04-05T17:36:00.000-07:00

Actually, it was March, but the pun on April Fools was too hard to pass up.

Yes, just as our state transitioned from "Widespread Influenza Incidence" to "Regional Influenza Incidence" on the CDC Flu Map, Xavier succumbed. Since he has asthma, we had gone to great lengths to prevent this from happening, but Gwen snuck it in with a case so mild that it was misdiagnosed as allergies. The bestlaid plans of mice and men ...

We were lucky, though -- his fever subsided after three days, and he had no complications.

As coincidence would have it, his fever arrived on the same day as my best-friend-since-high-school's baby shower (which, of course, I was assisting with.) I took him to the doctor in the morning (the doctor refused to commit to anything -- I think he must be being sued or something -- but merely acknowledged that it MIGHT be the flu or it MIGHT be an ear infection or it MIGHT be alien possession), so I knew it was probably flu. Being the on-top-of-things kind of person I am, of course I had not bought my friend's baby gift, I had not bought the supplies the other hostesses had asked me to bring, and I had not bought prizes for the games I was running ... and then it occurred to me that I had not planned the games I was running either ...

Anyway, I managed to pull my part together in the nick of time. Evidently forgetfulness is something inherent to motherhood, because when my friend arrived for her shower, she asked, "How are the kids?"

"Xav has the flu."

"Oh, that's too bad."

Then, when the party was over, she asked, "Will you guys be around tomorrow? I was thinking of stopping by ..."

"You can't," I reminded her. "Xavier has the flu."

Yep, becoming a parent destroys your brain.

I took the kids to the annual International Festival at the local university today. I was hopeful that there would be a Korean exhibit this year; this is actually the first time since Xavier arrived that no one was sick for the festivities, but there was no Korean Exhibit at the International Festival before he arrived.

Anyway, I should have been clued in that we would have problems when the kids were getting dressed. We suggested Xavier wear his Hanbok, but he refused point blank.

Gwen said, "I wish I had an International Outfit." As luck would have it, last time we went, she wore a Chinese outfit my (pregnant) friend Tania had bought her ... five years ago.

Well, as luck would have it, Xavier outgrew his Hanbok anyway. He suggested he could tear it apart to make Lego Star Wars sets, but we declined.

The festival was supposed to start at 11:00, but it occurred to me that I had a package to mail, and the UPS Store was right next to the chocolatier's, so I might as well get Adam a treat for finishing our taxes ... so we left the house early. The kids were so eager to go to the International Festival that THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE CANDY SHOP. Yes, this called into serious question their untraditional "not sick" status. But we went anyway.

Once we got to the fair, the kids wanted to look at all the exhibits; unfortunately, most seemed to be about serving food that you had to pay for and that the kids would not have eaten anyway. All the same, they raced along, collecting balloons, looking at pictures, watching some decidedly caucasian people doing a half-hearted middle-Eastern dance, and Xavier took it all in with enthusiasm. While he watched the dancers, I consulted the program and saw that not only was there a Korean exhibit, but also a Korean-American exhibit. How cool was that?

Well, we went to the Korean exhibit (after a short detour to the China exhibit to look at some pictures). Gwen continued her animated questioning and investigation of this exhibit as she had at the others, but, strangely, Xavier completely shut down. He hid behind my back, would not talk to the students running the exhibit, and would not select a souvinier. Gwen selected a fan for herself, I picked up a bag for Xavier and a book called "The Facts About Korea." The whole time, Xavier was behind my back, tugging on me to come on!

He would not even allow us to stop at the Korean American exhibit.

He did allow us to stop at the India exhibit (at Gwen's request), where he immediately picked up a key chain with the Taj Mahal on it and said, "This is what I want."

On our way back to the car, I asked, "Xav, what happened back there? Why weren't you interested in the Korean exhibit?"

"They didn't say I was handsome," he muttered in reply.

All the same, Gwen has already started reading "The Facts About Korea" (not a children's book, by the way), which Xavier has already proclaimed as "boring." It doesn't have pictures, though, so it might not have anything to do with the subject matter.

It's interesting to me sometimes how people try to reconcile Xavier and Gwen as siblings. Some people honestly do not realize he is adopted, and comment that he "takes after me." Others try to poke around the subject to get more information; adoptive parents, though advised to be upfront with their children about their origins, are discouraged from advertising the fact to others, so I usually don't volunteer that he is adopted unless directly asked ("Is your husband Asian?" "Is your son adopted?")

Today, though, I got a new reaction at a birthday party for one of my coworker's kids. The kids were playing a highly liberal version of limbo (if you get under the stick -- even if you wiggle under on your belly and bop the stick with your bottom -- you are still in) as the grandmother of the birthday girl and I held the stick. As blond, blue-eyed Gwen went under the stick, I remarked, "That's my daugher!"

"Oh," Birthday Girl's Grandma smiled. "What a pretty girl!"

A few kids later, Xavier went under. "And that's my son!"

"Oh!" she said, but not in a nice way -- her eyes narrowed, and she gave me the kind of look older women usually reserve for "ladies" of the variety that wear short skirts and work at night. Although she did not say it, it was clear that she was thinking, "Two kids of different races of similar ages with the same parent -- now, that just ain't right!"

As a 39-year-old, overweight computer geek, I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.

In other news, Gwen's school is collecting money for the National Diabetes Society, and she is trying to round up donations. Gwen has been especially interested in this project because her great-aunt has diabetes. If you are interested in contributing, drop me an email (death@spammers.com) or comment to this post if you think I have your email address, and I will send you a link to her webpage. If you send me an email and I don't respond, it is because I get hundreds of spammails at this address every day, so don't please don't be offended. Thanks!

Oops, She Did It Again!

2008-03-21T16:45:00.000-07:00

I think I used this title once before, except then it was, "Oops, they did it again" related to a toy recall. This is better news.

Gwen won the science fair for her grade for the second year in a row!

We were a little rushed getting the project put together due to illness (on Gwen's part) and a trip to visit my parents (which was well worth it.) By the night of the science fair, Gwen was thoroughly sick of her project, and I was questioning whether perhaps next year we should take a break. I also whacked my head with the hatch on our minivan while loading the science fair project into the back, and I got to go to the science fair sporting a happening Spiderman BandAid on my forehead. None of this seemed auspicious.

Still, despite my disappointment that no one asked what the BandAid was for (my response would have been, "to discreetly cover an obnoxious zit"), Gwen did great and was rewarded for her efforts. As we loaded up to head home, she said, "I can't wait to do the science fair next year!"

How quickly they forget.

In other news, on the same day as the science fair, we got certifiable proof that Gwen is indeed "White and Nerdy." She has been accepted into the gifted and talented program at her school; she'll be taking advanced math and reading next year, as she is already doing math and reading at the 4th grade level. The only area where she is "behind" (at the third grade level) is handwriting. Yup, that's my girl!

Xavier, on the other hand, is learning how to lie. OK, that's not really something I'm proud of, but I do remember going through a phase like this when I was his age. Some of these lies have backfired on him, though ...

One thing Xavier is too busy to do is go to the bathroom, which sometimes results in him backing up the potty (oh, every other day.) I told him that if he went to the bathroom every day for a week, I would get him a toy. So, the other day, after a three-day run of successful "bathroom days", he came in and said, "Guess what, Mom? I just pooped four times! Can I have that toy?"

Well, he did not get a toy. What he got was quarantined (ie, prevented from going out for a planned occasion), because if he had really pooped four times in the previous 15 minutes (as he claimed), then he was clearly sick. Finally, he owned up and told the truth.

Xavier is also continuing his efforts to become the biggest Romeo in preschool. Today, Gwen had a friend over, a pretty little girl named Ailene. Xavier used his tried and true method of winning her over -- that is, acting like a maniac. As they were eating their lunch, Xavier spontaneously quoted his favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, "I'm surrounded by the gender from Outer Space!"

Gwen said smoothly, "No, Xavier. I think it is clear that you are the only person here from Outer Space."

Transitioning

2008-02-27T15:32:00.000-08:00

This evening, while I was cleaning the fishbowl, Xavier came running into the bathroom in a panic.

"Mom! Mom!" he cried. "Gwen got an owie, and it is bleeding!"

Picturing a grim scene of Gwen lying prostrate with pain on the floor (with a trivial injury, admittedly -- the kids tend to overreact), I headed into her bedroom. She wasn't there.

I listened -- nothing. No wails of pain or sobs or anything.

"Gwen?" I asked.

"It was really bleeding!" Xavier chimed in.

"What?" Gwen answered in a normal voice from downstairs.

"Where are you?" I asked, as I started down the stairs.

"Putting a band-aid on," Gwen said, matter-of-factedly, like it was no big deal.

"Did you clean it first?"

"Yeah."

She came out of the bathroom and showed me her spiffy Spiderman band-aid. "It was a paper cut."

I looked down at her with a mingling array of emotions. She is growing up, can take care of minor injuries herself, doesn't cry at the drop of a hat anymore. She stood there, looking up at me, expectantly.

"Um, do you want a kiss to make it better?" I asked.

She held up her hand. "Yes, please."

Oh, good. I'm not completely out-moded.

(Although Gwen now tells me that one of her classmates is teaching her not to cry so much -- probably a good thing.)

Chocolate Fever

2008-02-26T15:50:00.000-08:00

No, we aren't dead. We had new floors installed downstairs, new stairs installed, and between work on the house, bouts of illness, etc., we have either been too swamped or too tired to post.

Anyway, we finished our first round of swimming lessons in the meantime. As is the way of the world sometimes, Gwen did not pass to Level 3, despite her best efforts, and Xavier did pass to Level 2, despite not doing anything. Actually, in Xavier's case, he was passed because he is getting too old for that class, even though he still won't put his head in the water.

Anyway, Gwen was devastated, of course, and cried and cried -- and that was before the teacher brought her card over. I had expected this to happen, but by the time the teacher came over, I was bawling too (sympathy pains, I guess.) I'm sure we made an excellent impression. That said, I am really proud of her progress -- considering that on the first day of class she cried twice -- and loudly -- because she was afraid, and by the last class she had passed probably fifteen out of twenty test items on the checklist (and of the five she "failed", she got partial credit on three). I was really impressed by her progress. Actually, out of four kids in the class, only one passed, and she had taken this class -- and private lessons -- before, so I guess the bar is pretty high.

Okay, enough bragging about how my kid failed swim class.

Today was an early release day from school, so we invited a couple of kids over, Teddy and Alexis. Alexis and Gwen have been friends since nursery school, and Teddy -- her older brother -- was kind of along for the ride. Xavier likes him, but he is three years older than Xavier, so when he comes over conflict is inevitable.

Of course, when I confirmed the playdate on Saturday, I was a bit apprehensive, because I was in the early throes of a cold.

I became a tad more nervous when the mother said her husband would pick the kids up at 5:15 (they're nice kids, but they aren't my kids, and my patience wears thin sometimes with other people's kids -- four hours seemed like kind of a lot.)

I probably should have called the whole thing off when Adam came down with my cold yesterday and decided to take today off -- but he said he didn't want to disappoint the kids, so he would just hide in our room. So I didn't call it off.

When I was trying to come up with activities to keep the kids occupied, Gwen showed me an activity that involved dipping various foods -- mostly fruit -- in chocolate and letting them cool to make candy. It was in Highlights Magazine, and given that most of the kids involved were six and up, I figured it was probably age appropriate -- it might be a bit advanced for Xavier, but I could help him as needed.

I was wrong, on so many levels.

First of all, I completely misguessed at what the kids might like to dip in chocolate. I put out a variety of dried fruits, and -- at the last minute -- a bowl of animal crackers. At the end, I still had plenty of fruit, and I had refilled the animal crackers bowl twice. To their credit, Gwen and Xavier mostly stuck to the fruit.

Secondly, I woefully overestimated how long it would take them to do this activity -- within two minutes, Teddy was asking (every thirty seconds) when he could eat his chocolates; after eight minutes of this, I finally gave in (seemed better than killing him), and two minutes after that he was done and wanted to do something else. In the meantime, I caught Alexis using the melted chocolate like dip (and double-dipping), so I had to get a fresh bowl of chocolate for the girls.

Finally, I severely underestimated how long it would take to clean up after the kids. Teddy looked like he had chocolate pox when he was done (he even had chocolate behind his ears), but he was easily outdone by Alexis, who had been two-fisting the chocolate from the bowl once Gwen was done, needed a complete wardrobe makeover, had chocolate even in her hair, all over her chair, and then she tracked it across the kitchen floor. By comparison, Gwen had spilled a spoonful of chocolate on the table -- not too bad. Xav's area was spotless.

So, when all was said and done, I ended up with a fifteen minute activity that took over an hour to clean up after. And a new appreciation of how great my kids are.

Finally, Xavier lost his favorite book, Chocolate Fever, several months ago. I have no idea why this is his favorite book, especially since it is a "chapter" book and he can't read, but who can fathom the ways of kids? Anyway, I finally broke down and ordered him a new copy on Saturday.

He found the old copy on Sunday.

Happy New Year!

2008-01-15T15:32:00.000-08:00

Yeah, I know, we're two weeks into the new year. But the fact of the matter is, every year I resolve to lose twenty pounds, and I am always defeated during the first week by my birthday (who can say no to birthday cake?) So this year, I decided to postpone the new year by two weeks.

In addition to the usual resolution, I resolved this year to be a more responsible parent. This means swimming lessons for the kids. Off to a flying start, we have already missed the first class (because I didn't look into it in time ... guess that's a problem with postponing the New Year for two weeks.) Gwen is cautiously optimistic about taking swimming classes. Xavier (aka "The kid who never puts his face in the water ... ever") has been asking me every day since I brought it up, "Are we going to swim lessons today? I can't wait to start swimming lessons!" Groan ... it's a long way to Saturday.

Gwen came up with a whole list of resolutions for 2008.
1. Make my bed.
2. Get my work done on time
3. Read more books
4. Be kind to my friends
5. Feed my pets
6. Help my Mom and Dad
7. Smile, laugh, and dance more
8. Make the world more beautiful
9. Recycle, reduce, reuse
10. Exercise and eat healthy foods

I think this is, for the most part, a very laudable, and may I say, achievable list. I'm not sure about #4 up there (after all, do we make a practice of being mean to our friends?), and she'd better do #5 ... on the other hand, I think she can achieve #8 just by doing #7. And #9 wouldn't hurt, either.

Speaking of #9 ... in Xavier's preschool class, they came up with a wish list for 2008 (so instead of resolving to lose weight, I can just wish for it. Ah, were it that simple!) The list included a lot of funny (but not unexpected entries):

"I wish it would snow a lot so we can go sledding."

"I want a baby sister." (Not sure that boy's mother had the same wish.)

"I want to play with my friends more."

"I want a Wii."

"I want to teach people to be ecofriendly, so they will stop killing animals, destroying the environment, and causing global warming."

I didn't think it was possible to overemphasize environmentalism in the home, but looking at Xavier's wish -- the last one -- I begin to wonder if I have gone overboard.

A new year is a time of transition, and one of my coworkers, Jim, is transitioning right out of my company, which I will call, for the sake of semi-anonymity, "Midas". Jim and I have been working together for six years now (two years at "Midas" and four years at our previous job), so I am kind of sorry to see him go, but it will be a good opportunity for him. In honor of his last days at "Midas", we had a "Chili Day" today at work (and, boy, was it apt, because it was freezing.) For those unfamiliar with the concept, on "Chili Day" all the employees contribute an ingredient and we cook chili in crockpots until lunchtime.

Before lunch, I hurried to Xavier's school to pick him up, and as I walked with him to the car, his warm little hand in mine, I commented, "I love holding your hand." Then, teasingly, I asked, "Will you still hold my hand when you are a grown-up, or will you be too cool to hold hands with your mom?"

Xavier pondered this briefly. "I'll still hold your hand, Mom, but we won't get to do it as often."

"I guess that's to be expected," I replied with a shrug.

"Yeah," he continued, "because when I'm a grown-up, I'll have to get a job, and we probably won't be working together, because there is no way I'm going to work for Midas."

I don't think I'd better probe too much into his reasons for that. Maybe I should resolve in 2008 not to talk so much about work when I'm at home.

Supernatural ... or surreal?

2007-12-17T18:51:00.000-08:00

My poor mother. She has tried so hard to keep her gifts to us a secret. She carefully sent all of the kids' and Adam's stuff to me to wrap (coming from Amazon), and sent my gift to Adam. This worked well until the company she ordered my gift from called and asked for her (she doesn't live with us), then Adam, then told me that my gift was not available in the ordered color.

Well, today I was upstairs when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. I headed for the stairs when it rang again, and as I was coming down the stairs, I heard the painter (yes, we are getting more work done on the house) telling someone outside that I was around somewhere. Probably a butler would be more discrete, and less expensive, too.

Anyway, I opened the door and found two Mormon missionaries standing on the front step ... and a package.

I didn't really have time for the missionaries -- I don't have anything against the Church of Latter Day Saints, but we were late for karate -- but I listened politely as the talkative one spoke his piece and his quiet buddy nodded in agreement. As the talkative missionary wrapped things up, he said, "Would you like us to come back sometime and tell you more about our church?"

"Oh, no, thank you," I said as I leaned down to pick up the package. "I'm pretty happy as a Lutheran, with my church."

"I come in peace," a man's voice said. It sounded kind of like it had come through a megaphone, but not that loud.

I looked around, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from -- it didn't sound like it had come from the quiet missionary. The talkative missionary looked a little confused. "Um, okay. We wouldn't mind really, and, here, we have some coupons so you can get a free video about the first Christmas ..."

I shifted the package in my hand to take the offered coupon. "Uh, thanks, I --"

"This is an intergalactic emergency!"

The missionary still looked confused, but I now knew where the voice was coming from. Quickly saying goodbye to the missionaries, I stepped inside ...

... where I was immediately accosted by the kids. "It's a present!" "Is it for me?" "Do you know what it is?"

"Oh, I know what it is," I said, trying to shift the box as little as possible.

"What is it, Mom?" Xavier begged. "Give me a hint!"

"I am Buzz Lightyear, Interplanetary Space Ranger!" the box replied.

Xavier was ecstatic, Mom, for whatever it's worth. And I still haven't let him open it yet.

Gwen had strep throat last week, and it took close to three days for her fever to break. Still, she did not lay around and watch TV -- no, she worked on her Top Secret adventures that Adam gets her from Highlights magazine. The gist of these Top Secret games is that a crime has been commited in some exotic place like France, Italy, or Detroit, and you use a guidebook and some clues provided in the activity book to solve the crime.

These are probably a little advanced for Gwen, but she is doing much better at them now that she can read. If she asks Adam for help, invariably he gives her clues to try to figure it out herself. I do that, too, some of the time, but sometimes I am too busy, and I just help her find the answer.

The other night, as Xavier and I were headed out to my office Christmas Party (we were just picking up the dinners to bring home), Gwen looked up from her Top Secret du Hour, and said, "I wish I could go!"

"Oh, we won't be gone long," I assured her. "And Daddy will be staying here with you. He'll help you with your Top Secret."

She sighed and looked down at the puzzle she was working on. "I guess," she said listlessly. "He tries to help ... but he isn't very good at it."

Gwen's turn

2007-12-02T14:36:00.000-08:00

Gwen wanted to write something for the BLOG today. Here she is:

Today I demod at the Kempo Karate demo.I did Thai Boxing Drill 1.Xav did numchuku drill.I had to say,"As a dedicated student of the martial arts,I will live by the principles of the blackbelt excellence." Xav had to say,"Modesty: Being humble and not bragging."Xav was great.We worked very hard.

Mrs.Hoy loved it.She huged me. By: Miranda and Mandy

Birthday Demo

2007-12-02T14:22:00.000-08:00

Xavier turned five years old today. He was still the littlest (though perhaps not the youngest) Kempo Karate student at the Kempo Karate holiday party today. Still, he and Gwen did a great job.

Last night, Xavier had an asthma attack (he is still getting over the latest in a series of colds, and the babysitter who watched him went a little heavy on the fragrance.) It was frustrating, because this cold has dragged on for a couple of weeks now, and yesterday morning I thought maybe he had turned the corner. I told Adam last night as he lay wheezing (and asleep) on our bed, "It will be a miracle if we make it to that demo tomorrow." It took me forever to get to sleep, not only because I was worried about Xav, but I really did not want have to duck out of the demo. Instructor Hoy "who is a girl" had spent a lot of time structuring the demo, and if we couldn't make it, it would take a big chunk out of it (not to mention that I hated to disappoint the kids). Also, since both Mr. and Mrs. Instructor Hoys are moving to Memphis at the end of the month, I really didn't want to be the one to "break their last demo."

Well, a miracle did happen, and Xavier's asthma had subsided by this morning. Gwen did a great Thai boxing drill #1, and Xavier (with a little help) said his line perfectly: "Modesty: being humble and not bragging." (Thankfully, he left off the part about the underwear -- see November 30th posting.)

All of the demos were excellent, but when asked at the end which demo he thought was the best, Xavier replied without hesitation, "Me."

Guess we need to work a little harder on the modesty part.

It's Time .... to D-d-d-d-d-d-dual!

2007-11-29T19:01:00.000-08:00

I think I posted sometime back that the mother of one of Xavier's (girl) friends Janey told me that Xavier had been teaching Janey how to play "Bionicles" on the playground. She thought this was cute and friendly of Xavier, until she caught Janey (an only child) watching "Bionicles" on the Saturday morning cartoons and was horrified at how violent they are. (If I didn't post this, that was the gist of it, and I'm sorry.) Before I had a son, I pooh-poohed people who remarked that boys are different from girls.

Okay, now I am saying it: Boys are different from girls.

Gwen was fixated on dinosaurs and animals; Xavier -- despite our best efforts -- is fixated on adventure, excitement, and -- yes -- violence. Bionicles are just Lego robots (we don't let him watch anything with human-against-human violence), and Transformers are not exactly cuddly teddy bears having a tea party. But after that incident, I did wish he could focus his energies on something a little less ... warlike.

Well, be careful what you wish for. Adam allowed Xavier to check out a Yu-gi-oh! DVD from the video store. At first I was relieved -- no guns! Basically, it is just about some good guys and bad guys who fight each other by ... playing cards. No one gets killed, although some people do have their minds sent to the "shadow realm." I began to turn against the Yu-gi-oh! videos, though, when I realized that it can take two hours (four half-hour episodes) to play a game. It is about as riveting and intellectually stimulating as watching static when your cable has been unplugged, although not quite as exciting.

Anyway, Xavier has become fascinated by Yu-gi-oh!, so much so that he wants that to be his birthday party theme, and he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! all the time (the card game, not the video -- he gave up Yu-gi-oh! the video in favor of his new favorite, Ratatouie). The only problem? He does not have any Yu-gi-oh! cards. But he does not let that stop him.

Whereas we used to play Bionicles in the front yard while we waited for Gwen's bus in the afternoon (and I would cringe and look around, hoping that none of the neighbors were watching, for they would surely think I was coaching a sociopath), now he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! Since we don't have real cards, we just pretend we have cards. He is an expert at imitating the mannerisms and expressions of the players in the video, not to mention a deep knowledge of the cards and the rules. The problem is, I don't watch the videos, so I don't know any of the actual cards are, so I have to make them up. A typical exchange runs something like this (and this is, in fact, one of the "duals" we had today.)

Xavier: I summon up the Magnetic Warrior, and he takes away fifteen-a-million-hundred of your life points!

Me: Um, well, I guess I lose.

Xavier: No, you didn't, Mommy -- you still have zero-zero-five points. And I place one card face down.

Me: Oh, yeah, well I summon up the, uh, Mr. Caliban card. He's a 2000/2000 creature, and he attacks your magnetic warrior. (For the less-informed out there, Caliban is our cat.)

Xavier: Ah, but now I turn over the card I had face down -- my Magnetic Warrior is fifteen-a-million-hundred times more powerful than he was before! I'm afraid he sends your Mr. Caliban card to your graveyard. (Then, prompting me) You say, "Noooo!"

Me: Ah, but I'm afraid you have triggered Mr. Caliban's secret ability he, uh ... pukes all over you and your Magnetic Warrior, so you can't attack.

Xavier: Mommy! You aren't doing this right!

These duals always end with the arrival of the bus. He's funny to watch, but I have to admit I wonder if he will be disillusioned when someone gives him a real deck.

In other news, we are getting ready to do a karate demo this Sunday. Instructor Jones-Cox and "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" have put a lot of time into getting the kids ready. For Instructor Hoy, this is an especially bittersweet demo because she is getting ready to move to Memphis, so this probably her last one with this group. Gwen has learned Thai Boxing drill #1 in preparation, and Xavier is going to do a little (very little) numchuku number followed with one of the principles of the black belt: "Modesty: Being humble and not bwagging."

Needless to say, "Modesty: Being humble and not bragging," is getting drilled into their heads as we rehearse this at every class. Today after class, Gwen came running downstairs (in our house), and yelled, "Mommy! Look at me!" She was -- ahem -- all ready for her bath, despite my best efforts to keep her upstairs when she is in the altogether.

I said, "Hmmm, looks like modesty is not one of your virtues."

She looked confused, and said, "What does 'modesty' mean?"

Realizing the conflict, I said, "Well, 'modesty' does mean being humble and not bragging, but it also means not showing off your private parts."

Hours later, when I was at the adult class, Xavier was telling Adam all about the demo. "And I get to do this thing with the numchukus and I get to say, 'Modesty: being humble and not bwagging'!"

Gwen chimed in, "And not showing off your underwear!"

Oh, lord. This in front of the kid who has been reciting lines from movies -- verbatum -- since he was two, and who is going to do this demo in three days. I don't think I need to tell you where this is going.

I sure hope "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" has a good sense of humor.

Dummy!

2007-11-08T17:22:00.000-08:00

This posting is not likely to win me any Parent of the Year awards ... then again, I was not a likely candidate for that anyway, so here goes ...

The other day, my husband showed me a video on YouTube.com called "Jeff Dunham -- Achmed the Dead Terrorist." Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist, and although this sketch -- which features a skeleton dummy made up like a Terrorist -- has some bad language, it is also VERY funny. They also have some other sketches up there involving Jeff Dunham and some dummies named "Walter" and "Peanut."

OK, here's where the bad parent part comes in: I have let the kids watch some of the Jeff Dunham sketches. For that matter, I have also let them watch Shrek, which contains some humor that is less than G-rated. Most of this goes right over their heads, but they laugh anyway, because the dummies (or cartoon characters) are funny anyway. Nevertheless, every time a bad word comes on, I interject, "Bad word -- don't say this at school." "Bad word -- don't ever say this."

Tonight, as I was putting the kids to bed, Xavier recited one of the scenes from the Jeff Dunham video, that goes like this:

Walter: My wife is getting old.

Jeff Dunham (smiling): But a woman ages like a fine wine ...

Walter (disparaging look at Jeff): My wife is aging like milk.

As Xavier finished reciting this, he said, "Mommy, what does it mean that his wife ages like milk?"

"Well, Xavier, wine is supposed to improve as it gets older, and milk goes sour."

Xavier laughed, then said, "Don't say that at work, mommy!"

Halloween!

2007-10-31T18:48:00.000-07:00

Woo-hoo! This is the first time since the kids were old enough to trick or treat that neither of them were sick! Not to say that the day was not fraught with drama and suspense ...

First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.

Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --

(Insert dramatic music here)

-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.

"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)

Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"

I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"

Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"

Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.

Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"

"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.

"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.

Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.

Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.

Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)

Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.

The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.

I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.

Ding-dong!

Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"

"No ..."

Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.

We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.

Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"

I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.

Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"

Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)

Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.

Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.

Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."

Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"

All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?

No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.

Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.

Another Public Service Announcement (and a story)

2007-10-30T18:56:00.000-07:00

Business first.

If you live in my town (and you know if you do) then
if you are familiar with a certain toy store on South Main then
if you have been thinking about buying FLEX furniture from them then
BUY NO LATER THAN TOMORROW;
end if; end if; end if;

(Sorry, a little PL/SQL humor there.)

The gist of it is, Adam and I have been toying around for some time with the idea of getting Gwen a bunk bed, moving her bed (my old bed) to the guest room, and moving the little-used blue sofa bed in the guest room down to the living room to replace our much-abused green sofa bed. We have been delaying this action for awhile because bunk beds are not cheap (especially FLEX beds, because they are solid wood -- well, except for the mattress -- and we are trying to avoid particle board). Also, for whatever reason, the blue couch latches onto cat hair like a covalent bond, so we thought we'd postpone the weekly sofa-vacuuming sessions. Alas, Xavier's recent bout of illness made the green couch even less appealing, and the toy store will stop selling FLEX at the end of November (FLEX is becoming exclusive), so I bullied Adam into letting me go ahead.

When I got there today, the first thing the salesgirl asked the manager was, "When do the new prices go into effect?" The answer is November 1st, and the rates are going up 25%. So if you have been thinking, "We'll buy that new at the end of the year," think again. Not only will FLEX be gone, if it is still there when you go, it will be a lot more expensive. So buy now!

And someone told me recently I shouldn't be in sales. :)

Now for pleasure.

So, we went to the toy store today to order a bunk bed for Gwen. Of course, buying a new bunk bed, we have to buy (two) new mattresses, and even though Adam and I bought the best mattresses we could for Gwen's (current) bed and Xavier's bed, we've gotten lazy in our old age, so we decided to order the mattresses from FLEX as well, provided that Gwen liked the one on the floor model of the bed.

Well, as it turns out, the floor model was not a mere bunk bed -- it was a bells-and-whistles bed. You know what I'm talking about: elevated bed with the "castle playhouse" underneath, pink "castle-themed" curtain at the top of the ladder, and another on the -- get this -- slide to the floor. It didn't take much persuading to get Gwen to climb on up and try out that mattress!

As we were driving home, Gwen said, "Did you order my bed?"

"Yes, ma'am. And the mattresses are going to be pink." (For whatever that is worth, since they'll be encased in a mattress cover and sheets.)

"Is it going to be like the bed at the store?"

"Nope, just a bunk bed."

Gwen sighed. "I wish it was going to be like the one at the store."

"Gwen, we weren't buying you a playground, we were buying you a bed."

Another sigh. "I know." Then, hopefully, "Will it have a ladder?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Roll-out drawers underneath."

"What else?"

"Um, nothing else. Isn't that enough?"

"Oh." Disappointed pause. "I kind of hoped it would have a slide."

"Gwen, you are going to have this bed until you're a teenager. When you are a teenager, you are not going to want a bed with a slide when you are seventeen."

So we went home. Adam comes home.

"So, Gwen," he said. "I hear you got a bed today."

"It doesn't have a slide," she sighed.

"A slide?" he laughed. "Gwen, we were getting you a bed, not a playground."

"I know. That's what Mommy told me."

Xavier's school had it's Hallowe'en Party today. I happened to overhear two mothers (of younger children) talking in the hall when I was picking Xav up on Friday, and I heard one of them say, "Ryan wants to be Thomas the Tank Engine. In a way, I was so relieved he changed his mind from being a ballerina, but now I need to find a Thomas costume."

Hearing opportunity knocking, and being the proud owner of a Thomas the Tank Engine costume that was gathering dust on Xavier's closet floor, I approached the mother. We exchanged numbers, and twenty-four hours later she was the proud owner of a lightly-used Thomas costume, and I was the proud owner of a clean closet.

As Adam walked Xavier into school today, they saw the mother walking in with her son and (admittedly cumbersome) Thomas the Tank Engine costume. Xavier perked up a little and said, "There's the costume that was my Thomas the Tank Engine costume, but I gave it away because it shrank."

Amused, Adam said, "It didn't shrink, honey. You've grown."

"No, it's shrinking," Xavier insisted. "It's getting smaller and smaller. Soon it will be the size of a pea."

After a moment, he added, "I mean, like a vegetable pea."

Halloween Kempo and Other News

2007-10-18T18:58:00.001-07:00

Yes, I have been incredibly busy this month. I apologize for neglecting the BLOG!

First order of business ... last night the kids tested and passed their second rank (belt) test in Universal Kempo Karate. I was a little worried about Xavier at first because he was really cranky when I dropped him off for the test (he fell asleep on the way over.) Professor Ragone, the regional Universal Kempo dude, offered Xavier his hand, and told him everything was going to be okay (mistaking his sad demeanor for nerves instead of grumpiness). Parents are not permitted to watch the exam, so I got to watch a bunch of stranger's kids going through their karate lessons instead, but Professor Ragone came out and assured me that Xavier was all smiles, back to his normal self. Of course, that meant I now had something else to worry about ...

Anyway, by the end, Xavier had clearly warmed to Professor Ragone, because as the kids came around the barricade for the promotion ceremony, Xavier held up his water bottle and shouted to Professor Ragone, "Look how big my bottle is! It's the biggest bottle in the world!"

I don't know if we'll be able to bring him back there for his next test -- it is clear he has lost all fear of authority.

Anyway, if you were wondering about the title of this entry, the belt color for PeeWee second rank is Orange. With the karate outfit for Universal Kempo Karate being black, and the month being October ... well, you can draw your own conclusions. Kempo tradition dictates that you may not wear your belt outside of class, so I guess I can't take advantage of the situation and let the kids just wear their karate uniforms trick or treating ... as if the kids would let me.

In other news, we had our first parent-teacher conference of the year with Gwen's teacher. Spoiler alert -- this is a bragging paragraph. You can skip it if you are not up for that. Gwen is reading at the Second grade/Five month level (not bad for First grade/Second month status.) The teacher says she is almost certainly going to recommend Gwen for the Gifted and Talented program (she says her real question at this point is why Gwen was not recommended last year.)

She added that Gwen was a real darling to work with. She said she is friendly to many of the kids, but she also spends a lot of time talking to the teachers at recess, for "more mature" conversation. The teacher related a story of one time when she was sitting with the other teachers at the picnic table, watching the kids at recess, when Gwen ran up and shouted excitedly, "Mrs. White! Have you read the latest National Geographic? They have an article in there all about how they can make fuel for cars out of corn!"

We also read part of Gwen's daily journal. The teacher explained that at the beginning of the day, the kids get to write a paragraph on any topic they want, and draw a picture to go along with it. As we read through Gwen's journal, we started noticing a theme. The entries went something like this:

"Today my baby ladybugs looked like they were starting to make their chrysalises, but I was wrong. I have karate. I will be good."

"We have a field trip today to the library. It will be a good day. I will be good."

"The ladybugs came out of their chrysalises today. They are pink. I will be good. I am so happy!"

After several entries like this, the teacher remarked, "Hmmm, I never noticed before that she always says she will be good." As we read a little further, she murmured, "Hmm, maybe I should show this to some of the other kids -- might give them ideas." By the end, she was saying, "I don't know what her interest is in being good, but I like her attitude -- I think I will share this with the other kids ..."

But, mostly, she is impressed with what a gifted student Gwen is. This is a tad ironic in light of the fact that today Gwen forgot I was picking her up at school today (because of the timing of the conference), and we only managed to get her off the bus in the nick of time.

Jilian, you recommended I take the kids to the Reptile Roundup at the Community Center, and I did, but I didn't have time to BLOG until now. The kids loved the Reptile Roundup, Gwen especially of course. We were five minutes into the presentation when Gwen turned to me, her face beet red, a giant smile on her face, and she said, "I love this stuff!" The presenter did not to appear to be one comfortable with kids (actually, he did not seem all that comfortable with people, so it seemed completely natural that he should be working with reptiles), but when he commented as he answered one of Gwen's questions ("How can you tell girl and boy snakes apart?") that it was a very good question, she was so pleased with herself that I wasn't sure at first whether she had heard the answer.

On our way out of the roundup, we passed a Tae Kwon Do class being held in one of the other rooms at the Community Center. Xavier looked in and cried, "Look, Mommy! They have a Korean flag and an American flag!"

"You're right, Xavier!" I responded.

"It's Korean-American, just like me!" he continued. "This side of me is Korean," he added, pointing to his right side, "And this side," the left, "is American."

Amused, I asked, "And which side is the side that loves me?"

Without hesitation, he replied, "Both sides."

Tooth!

2007-09-30T19:22:00.001-07:00

Oops! I forgot to add, Gwen did lose that first tooth -- finally -- last Saturday while we were watching Star Wars: A New Hope with the kids. Yes, it took a really long time, I think in part because her permanent tooth got tired of waiting and came in behind the original tooth in the meantime. Yes, we've started an account to start saving for her braces.

And the kids loved Star Wars. Xav's favorite character was R2D2, and I think he now wants to be R2D2 (or Artie-D2, as he calls him) when he grows up.

After hearing him refer to R2D2 as Artie-D2 through most of the movie, I gently corrected him, "Xav, it is R-2-D-2."

"Artie-D2?" he asked.

"R-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number, D-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number," I replied.

"R2D2?" he asked.

"Yes, you got it."

"Oh." He paused, then asked, "But can I call him whatever I want?"

"Umm, I guess," I replied.

"Then, I say we call him, 'Artie-D2.'"

We also played Star Wars later that afternoon in the backyard. Xavier played -- you got it -- Artie-D2, but evidently did not feel that he was short enough for the part, because he was running around the backyard using one of his arms as kind of a third leg. I personally thought he looked more like Quasimodo or Tarzan that way, but I kept my opinion to myself.

Oh, and he wants a lightsaber for Christmas, even though Artie-D2 did not personally use one. I guess some concepts are just too cool to take literally.