End-of-Season

Last night, Youngest Boy's basketball team celebrated the conclusion of their season.  The "team" is essentially made up of two teams - 3rd grade and 4th grade - but they usually practice together.  They play separate schedules but they use the same coaching staff.  This was their last practice, even though both teams still have tournament play through next week.

I somehow managed to volunteer to coordinate the party but we kept it really simple - pizza, sandwiches, cake - all the stuff 9- and 10-year-old boys like.  We included all of the families, so there were A LOT of kiddos running around.  It was pretty fun!

They recognized the coaches with a small gift from the families.  Then the coaches recognized each player with a certificate of participation.  It was nice!  Then Coach T gave a little speech.  He said, "I realize that now you guys have had a taste of victory (both teams won over the weekend), and now you know what it tastes like!"  Oldest Boy leaned over to me and whispered, "It tastes a lot like pizza to me..."  LOL!

It was a fun season with a lot of frustration - but that's what learning a sport is like.  Some of these boys had never touched a basketball before their first practice and a lot of them didn't play at all unless they were at practice or a game (stupid weather is to blame on our end - I was NOT going to let him dribble around the kitchen).  They made VAST improvements, even if they're not top-notch (at least the 3rd graders aren't).

I Used to Love Social Studies

Two Fridays ago, Oldest Boy came home from school and announced that their new Social Studies teacher (a man!) was giving them a test on the state capitals.  Okaaay.  Let's start studying!  I printed out lists that he could study then I made a matching game of states + capitals.  We studied through the weekend, Friday night, all day Saturday, all day Sunday (obviously, not ALL day, but to a 10-year-old it probably felt like it...).  Monday, the second he got in the car he says, "Oh, not only do we have to know all the state capitals but we had to identify them on a map."  Uh, no.  That was NOT what the assignment said so that was NOT what we studied...He then says, "Don't worry!  We are finishing the tests tomorrow so I can study tonight!"  This was a cross country meet day, so we rushed home, inhaled some dinner and got down to the business of national geography. 

He actually shocked us with how quickly he learned this.  He was clearly ready to finish the test with flying colors!

He gets in on Tuesday and says, "I did it!  I got 100%!  The kids who didn't get 100% have to re-take it over Thursday and Friday!"  Whew.

Yesterday (Monday), I get this e-mail:


Good afternoon 5^th Grade Parents,

This email concerns the States and Capitals pre-test that was given last week. The purpose of this test is to see how well they take tests. Again, this was only a pre-test to get to know my new students.  

If you have any questions or concerns, as always, please feel free to email me or reach me at the school.

Sincerely,

Your son's 5th Grade Social Studies Teacher (who shall remain nameless so as to protect  the not-so-innocent)

I may have had to leave the house so I couldn't reply.  It would NOT have been pretty.  Or used very Christian language.  Basically, I wasted 10+ hours of my time plus my son's time plus Mr. MOTH's time studying for a test that was worth exactly nothing.  He wanted to "get to know" the students.  Don't they make questionnaires for that?!?!  Couldn't you come up with something else  that was less of a time suck?!?!

{SIGH}

Swimming Lessons

So, my boys learned to swim.  They took a 2-week learn-to-swim course at the (sorta) local Y.  As a matter of fact, it's the same Y that I learned to swim at (and by "learned to swim" I mean "fall in the water and not drown").  It was quite an experience.  Let's just say, this pushed them VERY, VERY far out of their comfort zone.  Day 1-3 was spent entirely in the shallow learning to kick their feet and blow bubbles.  And then came the deep end.

 

This was SO traumatic!

 

They were scared. 

 

There were tears. 

 

And fears. 

 

And generally pouting. 

 

But they did it.

 

Day after day.

 

Until they could swim the length of the pool.

 

Without float belts.

 

I am unbelievably proud.

 

But more than anything, I'm proud of the fact that once they overcame THEIR fears, they helped the little guy in their class who sobbed himself sick for 3 or 4 days in a row.  I'd rather have them be great people than great swimmers.  They're well on their way.

 

 

This is my favorite photo of them. 
The other little boy you see was the one they befriended

 

This one was taken during "boat safety"

 

Floating on your back is, apparently, the hardest for the kids

Great Pumpkin Race

The Race That Started It All

2 years ago, the first 5K race at the kids' school was held.  I wasn't a runner.  I wasn't even a fast walker.  But I was determined that I would participate in the next one.  And I did.  That's how it all started - I wanted to contribute to an event that benefits my children's education.

This year, I ran that same race with both of my boys (and my sister).  It was raining (and not just a drizzle, either) so we skipped the costumes and wore our race-day t-shirts.  They blew the horn for us to start and everyone took offf.  My sister, who was assigned the task of running with Oldest Boy, said, "Oh, crap!  They're ALL faster than me!"  I knew she didn't have to worry - the boys have a hard time with the concept of "pace".  They typically run a less-than-2 mile race (for xc), so my plan was to let them run those two miles and then catch them for the final mile - and that's how it worked out with Youngest Boy.  He was D.O.N.E after 2.  It doesn't help that he had to run zig-zag to JUMP in every puddle (while the rest of us ran zig-zag to AVOID the puddles), but he still finished, as did the rest of us.  Youngest Boy even took 3rd in his age group!  WOOT!  I am SOOO proud of both of them for finishing, especially considering they have never had to run in inclement weather.

The Mommy - 31:03.50
Youngest Boy - 33:17.20 (I ran back and raced him in to the finish)
Oldest Boy - 38:36.90 (Lulu raced him in, as did Papa)
Lulu (my sister) - 38:38.30 (I think it was closer than 2 seconds...and she purposely ran with her nephew)

We party-ed it up in the gym afterwards and I was glad we were there for Youngest Boy to get his medal.  Can't wait for next year!!

I Still Hate Asthma

Just when you think you're outta the woods, it comes up and knocks you back down.

I allowed myself to be lulled into a false sense of security.  Thankfully, God DOES answer prayers, and Yougnest Boy has been without a "virally induced" asthmatic episode for well over a year.  As a matter of fact, if he hadn't there's a good chance he wouldn't have been running cross country this year.  As much as I trust his coach (who also suffers from asthma and therefore recognizes the symptoms and knows exactly how to deal with it), I would have been too over-protective mama bear-ish to allow him.  He's been great.  Even with these last two rounds of colds.

But.  Little One...notsomuch.  She hadn't had any episodes last year, either, and I had allowed our prescription for their rescue meds (Xopenex) to expire.  I mean, that stuff ain't cheap and it seemed silly to pay for it if we would never need it.  Besides, I kept the old stuff "just in case".  Well, "just in case" came late Thursday night/Friday morning.  She was breathing too fast when I put her to bed, but a fever can also cause that so I was only mildly concerned with the game plan being to take her to our (non-existent) peditrician the next morning.  Then at 2:47AM (as she's sleeping in our bed - a topic for a completely different post), she started coughing and couldn't stop - CLASSIC symptom.  I administered the old drug and offered up a prayer that it wouldn't somehow do more harm than good.  It didn't.  It was obvious that it helped tremendously (she thought it was now PLAYTIME - Yippee!).  And I was crying.  I just want SO BADLY for them not to have to worry about this.  I'm still hoping (and praying fervently) that she'll outgrow it as her brother seems to have. 

Oh, and as an added bonus:  She also has a double ear infection and walking pneumonia.  Current meds for her - Augmentin (antibiotic - 10 days), Xopenex (rescue med - as needed, every 6 hours), Budesonide (inhaled steroid- 2 days), and Prednisone (oral steroid - 5 days).  And Oldest Boy also has a double ear infection and has to take meds 3 times a day for 10 days.  My house looks like The Mommy's Walgreen.  {SIGH}

It Started Out As A Compliment

Last Thursday, Mr. MOTH got to watch the Pens beat up on the Rangers (that's hockey, yinz guys). It was a last-minute thing - a "guys' night" if you will, something he's absolutely NEVER done since we've been married. It was so last minute that I had to bring him a change of clothes at work (yes, two hours round-trip, with 4 kids). We were originally schedule to have movie night and then sleep out in the living room (the kids think this is the biggest deal! Don't worry, we rescheduled and did it Friday) but instead we watched the game to see if we could spot Daddy.

Baby Girl thought she spied him and shouted, "I saw a striped shirt!" Then, "No wait. We need to look for a striped shirt (gestures down her torso), short, dark hair (runs her fingers around her ears), and glasses (makes glasses with her finger and thumb)." This is all said like the rest of us somehow forgot what he looked like! LOL!

As we're watching, an ad pops up in the bottom of the screen for something. I was in the kitchen preparing snacks, so I only caught a quick glimpse but I think it was Anne Hathaway:

Anyhow, Oldest Boy yells from in front of the TV, "Mommy! That looks JUST like you!!" Feeling flattered, I said, "You think that looks like me?!?!" Oldest Boy said, "Yeah! When you were much younger!" My ego deflated a bit on that, but then Youngest Boy threw in his two cents, "And much, much thinner!!" And my ego bottomed out somewhere around my toes.

Of course, I told my mom this story and, thinking she would somehow try to cheer me up, said, "Well, dear, Anne Hathaway IS really thin!" Thanks, Ma.

My Version

Growing up, I had several children in my class whose families owned a business. Because of the obvious affiliation, we made a field trip to those family businesses as a class every.single.year. Field trips are awesome, right? Well, sure, they get you out of class and all, but these field trips were...smelly.

First we would head to a chicken farm known around the area for egg production. Do you know what chickens smell like? Let's just say it's NOT like Chicken Parmesan or even nuggets. It's more like...uh...farm. I don't remember a single other thing aside from the aroma. Oh, and I remember several of my classmates losing their lunch. And I'm not talking about the brown bag we were required to bring along.

Next up was the cheese factory. Now, this one might not be as obvious to those who have never been to one but again, it does NOT smell like cheddar! It's more like fermenting milk with a side of curd thrown in. Not.Good.

A child in my Oldest Boy's class (one of his best buds, as a matter of fact) is the son of a baker. Guess where his class gets to go for a field trip? That's right. A bakery. (This bakery, if you're in the area)I would have given my right arm to get the chance to go some place that smelled like baked goods instead of the god-forsaken aroma that we were made to endure.

And I had to walk up-hill to school. Both ways. In snow up to my eyeballs. Through blistering heat. I was lucky to have shoes!

Now, get off my lawn!

It Was A Good Foul!

Our Oldest Boy is playing basketball this year. He's in 3rd grade and this is the first year they're allowed to be on a team. His team is made up of 14 or so 3rd and 4th graders. He's a bit tall for his age but, unfortunately for him, he has my athletic ability. He hasn't missed a practice (aside from one optional one over the Christmas break) and we've been at every game. He plays equal time as the other players (this is Catholic school rules at this age) and he tries. Truly.

He just gets a bit confused about the whole "offense" and "defense" roles. He is an excellent defensive player. He follows his man when they play man defense and he nearly always stays in his zone when they play zone. He's sorta afraid of the ball so rebounds aren't his strong suit. He has a mean pass, though, and can shoot it to another player at lightning speed.

Offensively, he still plays defense. He stays with the man who's guarding him instead of trying NOT to do so. After watching him play his 5 minute stretch, I scooted over to him on the bench and explained what he should be doing. His next trip onto the court HE HAD HIS FIRST FOUL! I don't care that it was a foul, it means he WENT AFTER THE BALL! WOOT! I whooped and hollered and general made a big deal out of it (if you have ever been to a game with me before, you will NOT be surprised by this...). When I asked him about it he said, "I was tryin' to kick some HINEY!!"

He may just make a great basketball player yet.

FORMER Party Girl?

Sunday evening the two boys and I were priviledged to be invited to a crawfish boil at Oldest Boy's best bud's house. I have only eaten crawfish once in my life but I LOVE me some seafood so I was NOT missing it, despite the rain.

I haven't been to many social events lately where I wasn't related to at least a few of the other party-goers so I was a bit rusty on my social skills. That, and the fact that I will never, ever drink a beer while driving my kids anywhere put me a little out of my element. I was practically a wallflower for most of the party.

I sat in the living room for about the first 20 minutes after helping a little in the kitchen. I should mention here that Best Bud's mom is an Ironman Triathlete who also coaches other runners, triathletes, and marathoners. She used to intimidate me (OK. She still does but it's gotten better since I know her a little more now). I knew that a lot of her running/training buddies would be there, too, and I've met a few of them at different birthday parties for her son or other events.

One of two things happens when you spend any amount of time with these type of athletes: A) You begin to feel so inferior in your pathetic 20 minute aerobic workouts and resistance band training that you try desperately (ALWAYS to no avail) to steer the topic away from running/swimming/biking or B) You look around at the other folks and realize that (mostly) to look at them, they don't look like marathoners/triathletes/ironmen. No, really. They look just like me. And then you get all crazy and start running and the next thing you know Best Bud's mom is offering you a training program for a half marathon (I didn't say I was GOING to run one, just that I might. Someday. In 10 years or so. Maybe. Probably not. Maybe.). Appearances can be deceiving.

As I was playing wallflower in the living room a woman walked in. No, not a woman. A real-life Barbie doll. She was stunning and she had beautifully made desserts and side dishes in a designer carrying bag and she was dressed to the nines. Naturally, I immediately hated her. ;) Then I started listening to the conversations (about the LONG runs) and found out she was training for a marathon and had just completed 18 miles that morning. This did not endear me to her any more at that particular moment. And then the food came out (incidentally, do you KNOW how much food approximately 100 people - 75% of whom are endurance athletes EAT?!?! A WHOLE FREAKIN' LOT!!) so I got busy stuffing my face daintily eating barbeque ribs and salmon (side note: The salmon was outstanding!!) when Barbie started looking for a place to sit. I slid over to make room on the couch and then realized that my napkin (which is really required when eating ribs) was nowhere to be found. Y'all, she split her napkin in half and shared. We chatted and guess what? She was probably the nicest new person I met all night. And then her husband walked in. He was, to use a Pittsburgh term, a jagoff. I have never seen someone treat their wife with such open rudeness and disrespect as he did her (at least in this kind of setting). And she just kept being so sweet to him. I? Would have left. WITHOUT him. She clearly deserves so much better than the shmuck to whom she's married. Appearances can be deceiving.

All-in-all it was a decent evening but I was wishing the other half of my family had been with me. Also, that I had realized a bit sooner that all of the fun, social people were hanging out by the keg/crawfish table. That would be why we stayed 45 minutes longer than I had anticipated. Once we found these folks (and the boys discovered the live crawfish just waiting to be scooped into boiling water) we were much happier campers. Best Bud's mom introduced me to a triathlete from LA (No, not my blogging friend, Mary) and she helped me out with the seafood table and entertained me with her training debacles. Even endurance athletes make mistakes. Appearances can be deceiving.

Cross Country

Oldest Boy is running on the cross country team at his school this year. This means evening practices three times a week including time trials every Thursday where they run the full course (2 miles!). He took a full minute off of his time from week 2 to week 3 (probably because his running/chatting buddy wasn't there so he was more focused...) and I made a really big deal out of it hoping he would connect that he was there to run and not to socialize. Apparently, he didn't realize this was a competition (Meets? What's a "meet"? LOL!).

Through this week the trip to and from practice has been a fantastic time for me to have one-on-one time with him because Mr. MOTH has been home in time to stay with the littler kids. We have interesting conversations (Mommy, what's the first car ever made? Mommy, what was the first toilet? Mommy, what's the name of the planet on Star Wars where they "make" the clones? Toledo?). I get to meet the other parents and watch my son interact with his friends when he doesn't know I'm looking (VERY cool).

Next week, though, the fits gonna hit the shan and school starts, practice is moved to an earlier time, Baby Girl starts pre-K and Oldest Boy has his first meet. I had visions of us (me and the other kids) cheering him and his teammates on. Yeah. Notsomuch. Turns out, parents have to "volunteer" to monitor the course. Which I have to do with 3 kids in tow. Now, my husband thinks that the little kids are a great excuse to NOT do this and help out. In a Catholic school? You pretty much get laughed at if you try to bail because you have a lot of kids. Because 4? Isn't "a lot" in that environment. 7? Maybe. But considering the mom showing me around the course had 5 of her own I didn't feel like I had a leg to stand on.

This is the course:

All of the blue dots are where parents need to be stationed to make sure the kids stay on track and don't cheat or get lost or left behind.

And then at least once I have to provide snacks (or drinks) for 41 kids and their respective siblings. Oy! That's a lot of granola! I have no idea what to bring, how to package, or what the heck I'm supposed to do with it (which is why I didn't volunteer for the first meet - I figure I'll learn by example).

And then there's the logistics. Practice is at 6 which means I'll have to leave home by 5:30 (when the kids normally eat dinner) and then I'll have to feed them snacks in the van (again!) and figure out how in the heck I'll get them bathed and in bed at a decent hour. Meets are at 4 which means there's no time to come home first so dinner will have to be at 6:30 (if I make it ahead of time somehow) or even later. And what about homework? I WILL make it work - there's only 9 meets. We'll all survive. I hope.

How Do They Do It?

There are so many single (or practically single) moms out there and I have no idea how they manage! I have a great husband who helps out around the house (mows the lawn, usually picks up his dirty socks, etc.) but when it comes to shuffling the kids from place to place during the week I have to fly solo.

This will be the first year that one of our kids is participating in orgranized sports. Oldest Boy is going to run on the Cross Country Team for his school. Starting in a few weeks he will be attending a "camp" for 3 hours every morning at their "home" course. I think it's a great opportunity and he seems to enjoy running (sidenote: We went for our very first run together last night. I asked him if he liked running and he said that he did..mostly. I said it will probably be a lot more fun when he's running with his friends instead of his mom. He said, "Oh, yeah!").

While I am happy that he'll be participating I am a little stressed about making the logistics work. It's a 25 minute drive down to the school and I can't see the point in driving back home only to turn around and do it again a short time later (not to mention the cost of gas!). I have a few tricks up my sleeve and all of that but I'm really not looking forward to toting 3 kids around and trying to keep them entertained and relatively happy. So, dear internet, if your kids are in sports how do you do it? I have a plan - but I'd love to know some tried and true things that have worked for others. And...GO!

He Call 'Em Like He Sees 'Em

We are an odd lot. I know a lot of families spend their evenings doing their own things - in separate rooms. We don't. As soon as Mr. MOTH walks in the door we pretty much crawl right up on him...and stay there. He works out in the evenings most nights so we are all in the basement (or as Little One calls it the "spacement") while he's on the treadmill or strength training. (Sidenote: I don't think it's fair that when I do push-ups I usually have to do at least one set with a 32 pound toddler on my back and he puts her inside the gate...)

The basement is also where most some of the boys' toys are and a few of the girls' so they are down there playing a lot. Tuesday evening Oldest Boy was trying to get Baby Girl to do something. I'm not sure what it was but clearly she was ignoring him.

Oldest Boy: "Women! They never listen!"
Youngest Boy: "Never have! Never will!"

Mr. MOTH - clearly fearing for his life - successfuly stifled his laughter...

Random Catch-Up Time!

I'm not sure what it is about this time of year, but we always - I mean EVERY YEAR - have a whole lot going on. Sure, there are 3 birthdays in our family of 6 in just over 3 weeks, but on top of that there's a lot of other things that seem to just have to be done. Just means our life is full, I guess. In an attempt to try to capture all of it on "paper", here we go.

Oldest Boy made his First Holy Communion on May 1st:

It was a beautiful ceremony and, aside from the crazy old lady behind us telling a mom of one of the communicants that she was going to hell, all went well. (Yes, that actually happened. We could not believe our ears. It was one of those surreal moments that, while it's actually happening you can't believe that it is actually happening. It wasn't pretty, but it ended well).We celebrated like we celebrate everything - with CAKE!

Then this little beauty turned 2 (T-W-O!!):
I still can't quite come to grips with that but she is just amazing. She loves shoes (As a matter of fact, yesterday I put her Princess sneakers on and ran upstairs to get the keys. When I came back, she had taken them off and put on her purple crocs. BY HERSELF. Point taken, baby!). She also takes the stool from the bathroom and walks around with it, just in case there's something she needs to reach. Apparently, that's just more portable than pushing a kitchen chair around, which is what she used to do. And it's also quieter.

Sleeping is still optional most of the time, but it seems to be getting better. It still takes a very, very long time to convince her to fall asleep and she still gets up before the sun most days but at least I rarely spend two hours in the middle of the night singing to her. (I'm almost afraid to type that, lest she get wind of it and decide tonight would be a fun night for a party in her crib).

Tomorrow is her "official" party, but I'm not one to pass up the opportunity for cake, so we had one on her actualy birthday, too:

In between all of the goodness, we also helped to get my mother-in-law admitted to a nursing home. Timing is everything and because of the logistics and red-tape it had to be done over Mother's Day weekend - the same weekend as my first 5K and Mr. MOTH's birthday. Let's just say it's a birthday he'll never forget. :( The whole situation sucks but I specifically asked my prayer warriors to pray for 1) Peace for the family 2) A safe and uneventful trip back to her home state and 3) A smooth admission. Again, I believe the more specific your prayers the more likely you'll be able to find the answer. They were all answered, but not exactly how I would have chosen, I suppose.

And, on a lighter note, does anyone else get as annoyed as I do when you open a bag of something - chips, pretzels, dry cereal - and the bag just seems to disintegrate down the side? Yoy!

Occupational Hazard

There are a lot of benefits of being the oldest child. I am the oldest of 4 and I know - without a doubt - that there are more photos of me than of all of my siblings combined. You are always the first to do everything. You rarely have to wear hand-me-downs (OK, this one didn't apply to me because we were poor). Your every move is documented - each milestone painstakingly recorded for all generations to come.

But, of course, there are some downsides to being the Oldest. You have to be the first one with "responsibilities". You sometimes have to look out for the younger children. And sometimes, well, sometimes your younger brother sneezes the biggest booger you've ever seen right onto your school pants 0.3 seconds before you have to leave. Oh, yes. He did. It was so bad that Oldest Boy was gagging so much that it actually made ME gag. Oy, vey! And you have no idea how much I wish I had thought to take a photo...

Thunder

When Oldest Boy was just a little tyke (probably 3 or so), we had a lot of storms. At that age, thunder can be frightening and we did our best to calm his fears but we didn't make stuff up (it isn't God bowling, or some such nonsense). He knew it was called "thunder".

One evening, after a day of stormy weather, we were on our way up the stairs for bed when he, um, passed gas. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "I made thunder!!" ...and that has been what we have called it ever since. Even now, when the boys prefer the more basic term of "fart", the rest of us more civilized folk (Mr. MOTH, the girls, and I) still call it "making thunder".
**********
Monday afternoon I had the stomach flu (yes, again) and I was laying on the couch while Little One was watching some rain fall outside the living room window. First she said, "Oh, no! It's raining!" *shakes head pathetically* "I can't fix dis..."

And then a loud clap of thunder scared the bejeezus out of her and she ran into the center of the room, looking bewildered. Pretty soon she came over to me, rested her hand on my leg, and said, "What was dat?!?!"

I said, "That was just thunder, baby."

She said, "You made THUNDER?!?!" As if to say, "Mommy, you mean to tell me you farted loud enough to rattle the windows?!?!" Uh, no. {SIGH}

Outtakes

Oldest Boy will make his First Holy Communion next month and I wanted to be all official-like and send out invitations. OK. I just really like showing off my adorable kids. But still, it's a huge event, especially for a Catholic school boy so we are making it a big deal. My husband, being number 5 out of 6 kids doesn't remember anyone making a big deal out of it for him, which makes me sad AND all the more determined to make sure all 4 of ours are treated the same. Without further ado, here are the FAIL photos:

And, because Youngest Boy wanted in on the photo-op, I obliged, but you can see Oldest Boy's "official" outfit in the background. *grins*

And just for good measure, one of the Princesses:

The Parrot

Yesterday Oldest Boy had his appointment with the ophthamologist. The doctor we see is the best pediatric one in the area if not the state which means that he's very busy and the office is always crowded but it is also very child-friendly. I had to take the girls with us (the original appointment got canceled and my mom wasn't off yesterday to babysit) but I wasn't worried about it. There is always a movie playing in the waiting room and every exam room is showing the same video. Plus there are other kids (built-in entertainment!).



There was a family with two small kids - an older girl of maybe 5 and a little boy with Down Syndrome who was about 3. They played with our kids while their dad supervised pretty much the entire time.

Little One repeats everything - ev-er-y-thing - that people say - whether she knows them or not. On the way out the mommy from the family we were playing with met Little One for the first time and LO waved her beauty queen wave (with her fingers clamped firmly together while tilting her head and giving a beautiful little smile) and the woman said, "Bye-bye Tweety Pie!" And, of course, Little One said, "Bye-bye Tweety Pie!" plain as day. She made a friend!



Then we went to order new glasses. We tried out a new-to-our-area glasses place and while I was impressed with the selection of frames (especially the kids' ones), the people who work there leave a lot to be desired. They insisted - no really, insisted! - that we buy two pair. Oldest Boy had picked out the frames he wanted at a different "branch" but we were closer to another one so we went there. The deal was two pair for $99. Or one pair for $224.97. Even coming from me, who understands a good sale, this is preposterous. And the fact that she could NOT explain why made me want to turn Little One loose on the frame display. The easy thing would have been to say that I had to pay for the lenses - $45 per lens - plus full price for the frames and blah, blah, blah...we got 2 pairs of glasses. {SIGH} If we were allowed to use the word "stupid" in our house, that 's what I would call the sales people there. With a capital "STUPID".

And it cracks me up when people see me with just a few of my kids and tell me how crazy my life must be. If they only knew...

This Used to Be Just Another Day

It is so hard for me to believe that I have been The Mommy for as long as I was an Analytical Chemist. Today is the anniversary of the day I became a mommy, the day Oldest Boy was born.

I went to school for 4 years to earn my BS in Chemistry. I had on-the-job training in my field as well as various seminars and different courses to learn each specific set of instrument software. I rarely hesitated to rip apart quarter of a million dollars worth of equipment - sometimes daily. Yet that equipment - which came with instruction manuals that were 2 to 3 inches thick and written in 4 languages - was nowhere near as valuable as the teeny, tiny baby that changed my life.

I watched an interview with Wil Smith (one of my favorite actors because I feel he stayed true to himself despite fame) on Oprah once. In it he said his very first VCR came with an instruction manual that was 1200 pages long but the day they left the hospital with his first child they just handed him the baby and said, "OK! Here ya go!" I know exactly how he felt.

And now, 8 years later, I still feel like I need an instruction manual...

I like to do up birthdays big around here. Unless their actual birthday falls on the day of their party, there is another cake and a special (by request) dinner. Tonight, we're having tacos and Strawberry Heart Cake. Recipe follows (original recipe from FamilyFun magazine):

Strawberry Heart Cake

1 pkg white cake mix (18 ¼ oz)

1 pkg (3 oz) strawberry jello
3 TBSP flour

1/3 cup vegetable oil
4 eggs

1 pkg (10 oz) frozen sweetened strawberries, thawed

½ cup cold water

½ cup butter or margarine

5 to 5 ½ cups confectioners’ sugar

In mixing bowl, combine cake mix, jello and flour. Beat in oil and eggs. Drain strawberries, reserving ½ cup syrup for frosting. Add berries and water to batter; mix well. Divide batter between two waxed paper-lined 8-in pans, one square; one round. Bake @ 350°F for 30-35 min (square) and 35-40 min (round) or until cake tests done. Cool 10 min; remove from pans to wire racks and cool completely.
In small bowl, combine butter and reserved syrup. Gradually add sugar; beat until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Place square cake diagonally on a covered board (20” x 15”). Cut round cake in half and ice the cut sides; place frosted sides against the top two sides of square cake. Ice sides and top of cake. Decorate.

Happy Birthday, Oldest Boy!

Shades of Gray Brown

I've mentioned the fact that my kids don't ever identify people by skin color. They prefer to use the color of your shirt or maybe if you have "yellow" hair or a green backpack or whatever but skin color is just sort of...irrelevant to them.

This is especially apparent when Oldest Boy tells me that he and his brother are different colors. If you look at them side-by-side, their skintone is indeed different. Oldest Boy tends to favor his Slovakian roots (through his dad's dad's side) and Youngest Boy is pasty white like me (clearly I didn't get the Italian coloring - it's either Irish or Swedish - otherwise known as "translucent"). I don't correct him when he says this because, well, facts are facts. They aren't identical in any way, including skintone.

This week was MLK Jr's birthday celebration which meant a day off of school for the boys. Youngest Boy asked who he was and before I could give my explanation Oldest Boy said, "He helped to make sure that everyone gets treated equal. People used to make fun of someone who was different." I know that he won't ever know prejudice in the way that someone who is truly dark skinned will know but the fact that he sees himself as no different inspires me to keep treating this topic the same way. There are no differences. I sometimes wonder if this is the right thing, though, because I still believe it's important to celebrate your heritage. I just don't necessarily believe that your heritage is defined by your skin color. My history - through my ancestors - is mine because of who I am, not because I'm white. I can't imagine that it's different for anyone else.

Have you ever heard the song "Jesus Loves the Little Children"? The lyrics:
Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world!
Red and yellow, black and white;
They are precious in his sight!
Jesus loves the little children of the world!

Oldest Boy hates this song. "Mommy, why do they say that? There are no 'black' children or 'yellow' children. Everyone is just a different shade of brown!"

That's how we choose to see the people of this world. The same as us, just a different shade of brown.

Definition of CrAzY

Today is the 100th birthday of the boys' school. To celebrate the special day, the children were allowed to dress "crazy". I asked the boys on Sunday what they were planning to wear for "Dress Crazy Day". Oldest Boy's answer: "I'm going to wear one black sock and one white sock!!"

Mr. MOTH said, "Let's hope this is his definition of crazy when he's a teenager..."

Lesson learned: If I want a picture of all 4 kids looking adorable, have them wear ridiculous outfits. (Baby Girl wanted to play, too, so her shirt is on backwards. The boys are wearing sweatpants, pajama shirts, and, of course, one black sock and one white sock. Those rebels!)