Breakfast. It's What's For Dinner

My family eats pancakes and eggs for dinner waaaaay more often than they do for breakfast. I don’t so much love cooking in the morning. I’m not really a morning person. I’m a morning crab. Mostly, they fend for themselves at breakfast with cereal and fruit and juice and I feel no guilt over it. Those are healthy things and they all make it to lunch without starving to death. It’s all good. I did recently formulate this recipe for

Overnight Oatmeal

though that should provide some variety without requiring that I be perky before 8:00 a.m.

I’m in a beginning-of-the-school-year-organized mood right now. Today I made the menu and grocery lists for five weeks. FIVE. I filled in every Monday-Saturday leaving Sundays blank because it’s embarrassing to write in “fend for yourselves” and pin it to the fridge for all the world to see. Besides, more often than not, that’s pancake night and if I write it in, I’ll ruin the happy look on everyone’s faces when they realize that’s what we’re having.

What are your lazy-night meals?

Scatology

You are all so glad that I don’t have a picture for this one.

The Pooping Bandit

has not made a re-appearance yet this year. We’re hoping that means he was a kid who has moved on to another school and that he’s not just waiting for a good moment to start stuffing the toilet paper dispensers with excrement again.

There

was

notable poo this week though. A staff member was in the cafeteria and noticed a suspicious object on the floor. A custodian called over for a consult confirmed that it was indeed a round little turd. I guess someone was walking around with a collection in their underwear and it fell out onto the floor. No clue as to who that would have been, so they just cleaned it up and moved on.

Elementary school is so interesting.

All You Have To Do Is Ask

It’s upsetting how often people don’t ask my opinion. Because I have one. Always. And it’s the right opinion too. Just in case you were wondering how I felt about naming children and were afraid to ask, I’m going to tell you. I have gone through over 600 registration forms this week of children ages 4-11 and I formed a lot of opinions. Here they are.

When naming a sweet, tiny, innocent little baby:

Don’t Be Weird.

Mostly celebrities are guilty of this one. Gwen Stefani named her boys Zuma and Kingston. That’s weird. There is a fine line between unusual and weird. Don’t cross it. If you like weird names, change your own to one. And just because YOU like Star Wars does not mean your little boy will appreciate being named Anakin. He’s the one who is going to have to put up with all of the Skywalker jokes - not you.

Don’t Be Mean.

Amarijuana should never, ever be a sweet little girl’s name. Neither should Remember Washington. Yet they are. It’s mean. Don’t do it. Get a dog instead.

Spell It Right.

Being that I was born in 1970, I am very grateful that my name isn’t Sunshine Moon Petal or something of that ilk. Very, very grateful. However, as an adult who has gone through life with her name spelled “wrong”, I beg you to not do that to your kid. I never could find a bike license plate, or pencil or mug with my name on it. I am constantly correcting Dr.’s receptionists and anyone else who writes my name down without asking. (Note: I love you Mom and Dad! and I understand that there is a purpose behind the spelling of my name and appreciate it! Really! Just trying to be a little humorous here. Mostly.) If you want your kids’ names to be “different”, then see rule #4. Don’t take a common name and spell it weird. Mackynae is still McKenna. You’re not fooling anyone.

Don’t Be Common.

This is the least important rule, but still worth considering. Every year they publish the 10 most popular baby names. Look at the list and then don’t choose any of those unless you like the way your last initial sounds with the name - like Jacob K. or Madison W. This rule is especially important when picking genderless names because then your little sweetie will be known as either Girl Jordan or Boy Jordan. I realize that I just offended most parents and I am sorry. Please know that this is the least important of my naming rules. All of the Jennifers and Jasons that I grew up with have turned into lovely people, I’m sure. So if you have an Emma or a Michael that’s fine. They are lovely names - thus their popularity - and are much better choices than the other examples.

So there you go - my opinion. Yours may differ. That’s ok, but just know that you are probably wrong. :)

Boot Camp

Kindergarten is rough. It was a tough week for everyone involved. The parents dropping them off cried the first day which made me cry too. It was sad! All those teeny, tiny people marching away from their mamas. You’d have to be made of stone not to have a little sympathy.

Then the teachers had the monumental task of turning scatter-brained free spirits into a class. The list of basics took a full three days.
They had to teach them how to stand in, and follow, a line. That’s apparently a huge and difficult concept. They don’t understand WHY they have to follow the line. Why can’t they just run ahead? What’s the point to all of this?
The kids had to learn to go to the bathroom when they don’t necessarily HAVE to before lunch and Specials classes. This has to happen or they interrupt those periods by running out to pee. And peeing is contagious. If one goes, they all have to go and that destroys lunch time or the Specialist teachers’ lesson plans. So kindergarteners have to learn to line up to pee when they don’t have to go. Big stuff.
Lunch is very, very hard. All day kindergarten necessitates that we feed them, which is a bummer. Try taking a group of hungry cats down a hall and into a lunch room and arrange them in an organized fashion around a table. We don’t even give them a recess time at lunch because it takes a full 30 minutes to get them to the cafeteria, through the hot lunch line and to a table where they eat

veeerrry

slooooowly

. They have to take their recesses in the morning and afternoon. I am so grateful that it is not my job to help open milks. Sadistic grown-ups designed those milk cartons. They are not designed for pudgy little fingers to open.
It turns out that you can’t nap when you want to in kindergarten. This blows the minds of some of them. The teachers do their best to keep them awake and active, but sometimes one will just keel over and you can’t wake them up for anything so you just have to let them lie where they fall until they wake up on their own. That’s actually pretty cute.
You have to stay ALL DAY! Even if you don’t want to. Even if you miss your mom. Even if you decide that this really isn’t your thing and you think that maybe you’ll just give up on the whole idea of “school.” Yesterday morning an adorable little girl was being walked to class by her big sister. As they got closer to her room, she started to struggle and finally broke free from her sister’s hand and ran for it. She went right by me and out the front door so I had to give chase. She was a fast little booger. Lucky for me, she’s short so I caught up about half way down the walk. I knelt down and asked her what was wrong and she cried and said she just didn’t want to go to school anymore. I empathized. Neither do I. I held out my hand and she came along calmly and I handed her off to the principal who walked her to her class.

I look at this year’s first graders who were just like this a year ago. They seem so tall and grown-up now and they all stand in lines and pee when they are told to and only very rarely fall asleep or run away, so there is hope. It can all be taught - and learned.

2008-09

We had a great first day. Everyone got up on time and looked great and made it through the day in good shape.

Faithy Beth is in third grade. For the first time in her life, she does not have a sibling in school with her. It is her time to shine. She also had her first dance classes of the year today and the season’s first soccer game is tomorrow. Faith is a busy, busy girl.

Reagan is an 8th grader this year. This means she is automatically much cooler than she has ever been before. You might guess from these pictures that Reagan only has one eyeball. That is due to the current style of “side bangs” that is making me crazy as she is constantly tilting her head and talking from under her hair. She is not interested in my opinion on the subject.

Hayden started middle school as a 6th grader today. Reagan picked out his outfit for him and coached him on middle school life. It’s nice to have a guide to 6th grade. We’re hoping for a good year and are encouraged by starting with a good day. :)

I’m working full time this year at Faith’s school. I dressed up for the first day in an actual dress which was silly because while I was supervising recess, I felt like an idiot every time the wind came up or I had to bend over to pick up a ball. You don’t get a picture of that. Tomorrow, more practical clothing for sure.

I Blame The Aqua Net

(I don’t know what to say about the shirt. I was trying to reconcile not buttoning the top button with wearing a tie. I should have picked one or the other.)

Two middle schoolers. I am the parent of TWO middle schoolers. As painful as that is, I’d much rather parent them than

be

them. Middle school was rough. I was full of self-doubt and wanted to be noticed and yet was also completely certain that everyone else was thinking of me and judging me at all times. My kids seem to be feeling some of that, but not on nearly the same scale, and I have to wonder why. Where is the awkwardness? Where is the angst? Let’s compare and contrast:

Junior High-1983 Middle School-2008

Drugs and gangs. 1) Drugs and gangs.
Russia was going to nuke us. 2) International terrorism
Totally rad music. 3) Unintelligible pop trash.
Clothes to look back and shudder at. 4) Ditto.
Hair prep - 90 minutes. 5) Hair prep - 90 seconds.

That’s it. I believe that this is the difference between my daughter’s happy self-confidence and my complete self-involvement. It’s the hair. The hair-do above started with a perm about every 4 months and had to be washed daily. Then -mousse, and I would flip over to blow dry it upside down and spend around thirty minutes carefully curling it and burning my neck. All of the effort was held in place with way too much Aqua Net. At this point, if I determined I was having a bad hair day, I would try to summon up enough symptoms to convince my mom that I needed to stay home sick. (Sorry Mom. To your credit though, you didn’t fall for it very often.) Failing that, I went through the school day convinced that people were pointing and laughing at me at every turn. Even on good hair days, throughout the day I ran for the bathroom mirror to see how it was holding up, but if it started looking bad there wasn’t much to do. You can’t comb through that much hair spray. Even ponytails required a lot of work in the 80’s. You had to have either a

banana comb

or a giant, floppy hair bow and you still had to tease and spray your bangs into place.

Reagan’s hair is so simple. She washes and conditions it and then brushes it into place. That’s it. (Although in this picture we did blow dry it to up the shininess.) No gels or sprays. If it gets messed up, she brushes it or throws it up into a messy ponytail which is just as acceptable. Not worrying about the state of her hair frees her up to actually participate in P.E. or sports and walk in the wind or rain without fear. She can sleep later in the morning. She needn’t carry a gigantic comb around in her back pocket.

Don’t let anyone tell you that it is harder to be a kid today. It is clearly much, much simpler. The proof is in the hair.

Vindication

I left Rich unattended for a few minutes while we were at County Fair. I paid for it. He wandered over to register in a sweepstakes to win a free tractor. I don’t know why either. Perhaps to plow our back 40? We got a call from the sweepstakes people a few days later. Unfortunately, Rich was also unattended when he took that call.
Of course we did not win a tractor. What we won was a Free Room Purifier! All we had to do to get it, was agree to let a complete stranger come into our home and try to sell us something. Rich agreed, of course. After all, it was a Free Room Purifier! valued at $120! Whatever. Hayden’s hay fever has been pretty bad lately so an air purifier could be helpful.
So, on Monday night a seemingly nice man came into our living room with a lot of boxes to try and sell us a

Rainbow vacuum system

. First, he unpacked our Free Room Purifier! Only it was not a purifier. It was a humidifier. A very small humidifier with an unreasonably loud motor. I glared at Rich who was sheepish, but also highly amused. Then the man assembled his machine and turned it on to suck the impurities out of our living room air. Only he didn’t get any. I was just as surprised as he was. I figured that if anyone had air impurities, it would be us.
He tried the rug next, and then the couch. Nothing. By now, I was amused too and starting to feel sorry for the guy. Not that we were going to buy a $1900 vacuum anyway, but I felt bad for him that he couldn’t at least prove to us that we live in filth. Finally, he tried the carpet and I held my breath. The kids are the only people who have vacuumed in at least a month and their vacuuming skills . . . suck. Hee-hee. But nope, not even the carpet could provide an impressive amount of dirt. At that point, the nice man looked at us with mock disgust and declared that he wasn’t going to be able to sell us anything.
I had to leave then, to pick up Faith from soccer practice. On the way, I laughed out loud all by myself in the car. Partly because it was funny and partly because I was so delighted and surprised. I guess my mediocre-at-best housekeeping skills are good enough. Either that or the air filter on our furnace rocks. I don’t car which it is. The important thing is that unbiased third party proved my house is not actually dirty. Just highly disorganized I guess.

Education

School starts next week. In addition to the flurry of activity and excitement that a new school year brings, at our house there is also a feeling of strong trepidation. Every year as we send Hayden off, we hold our breath and hope that it goes smoothly. We hope that he gets a patient teacher. We hope that he doesn’t mouth off to the wrong person and get punched in the nose. We hope that this is the year that things will click.

When he was a toddler, I used to joke that he had two speeds: High and Off. When he was awake he was going. Up, down, all around, into walls and into or onto anything imaginable. People braced for his hugs because they came at full speed and head first (which was particularly unfortunate when his head was at crotch level). He wore me out. He wore everyone out. Friends would babysit him and when I came to pick him they’d say something along the lines of, “Boy, you’ve got your hands full there.”

We certainly considered the possibility that he had ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder), but he had an amazing attention span so we never looked into it. Finally, in third grade a teacher said something. I found out later that lots of teachers had been saying lots of things for years - just not to me. This teacher though was brave and she told me her concerns and we took him in and got him tested. Sure enough, a big, ginormous case of ADHD. Since that somehow took me totally by surprise, I started researching and was really shocked by what I found. Now, at the beginning of each school year I talk to Hayden’s teachers and give them a rundown of the symptoms he struggles with and how best to cope with them in the hopes that that helps both he and them with classroom management.

On behalf of Hayden, and any kids in your life who might struggle with this disorder, here are the main points. You can get a more thorough overview

here

and

here

. Hayden’s symptoms fall mainly into the “hyperactive” and “impulsive” categories. These lists are from Helpguide.org .

Symptoms of hyperactivity in children:

▪ Constantly fidgets and squirms
▪ Often leaves his or her seat in situations where sitting quietly is expected 
▪ Moves around constantly, often running or climbing inappropriately
▪ Has difficulty playing quietly
▪ Talks excessively
▪ Is always “on the go,” as if driven by a motor

Symptoms of impulsivity in children:

▪ Blurts out answers without waiting to be called on hear the whole question
▪ Has difficulty waiting for his or her turn
▪ Often interrupts others
▪ Intrudes on other people’s conversations or games
▪ Inability to keep powerful emotions in check, resulting in angry outbursts or temper tantrums

ADD / ADHD impairs the area of the brain responsible for

executive function

. Executive functioning includes the abilities to plan, prioritize, organize, move toward a goal, delay gratification, and monitor your own behavior. Instructions like “Be patient” and “Just wait a little while longer” are extremely difficult for children with ADD / ADHD to follow. The problems with executive function also make it difficult for many kids with ADD / ADHD to recognize personal boundaries and read social cues such as body language and facial expressions. This can lead to rebuffs and even ostracism by other children.

Hayden is the poster child for these lists and descriptions. As you can imagine, it leaves everyone who deals with him pretty frustrated. He doesn’t want to act this way, but honestly it doesn’t occur to him that there is anything wrong until people are red-faced and screaming at him.
For the classroom, we encourage teachers to do the following.
Have Hayden sit in a spot where his movement causes the least amount of distraction for other kids.
Don’t engage in arguments with him. He can hijack a classroom discussion before you’ve even realized it. Set up a signal that will let him know it’s time to shut up.
Avoid group projects at all costs. He does not work well with others. At all.
Please be patient with him. We know this is hard. We fail ourselves, daily. However he is not trying to be “bad”. We are working on this. We have several treatment plans in place but have had several failures as we’ve explored our options. It’s going to take time and maturity. Bear with us.
Thus far, we’ve been pretty fortunate. Most of the educators Hayden has had have been pretty understanding. A few have really taken on the challenge and worked with him for the best possible outcome. That means the world to us. Additionally, we have a fabulous school district. Hayden’s IQ scores qualify him for a “mentor.” This is a person who works with him one on one in a single subject every day. Like his own private teacher. Hayden’s mentor will come this year for his science/social studies class. This means he’s out of the regular classroom for the period working at his own pace on topics that interest him. I cannot tell you how huge that is.
In the spectrum of “things that can be wrong with your child” this is minor. He’s physically healthy, intelligent and loving. We’ll get him (and us) through this. However, given that this is a genetic problem, I am not promising that I will babysit his children. Once is enough. :)
I finally got a couple of County Fair pictures

On the Fridge.

Last Week Of Summer

This is the last Friday of my summer vacation. I have to report to work next week. For those of you new to the blog, I work at Faith’s elementary school as the security monitor. It’s great because I get a teacher’s schedule without having to be a teacher. Boy those people have hard jobs.
I learned several years ago that making a list of “Summer Goals” is an exercise in frustration. I never get them all done and am left feeling rushed and despairing at summer’s end. Now I just aim to relax and hope the kids sleep in and try to complete a house project or two that can’t be done in the winter. I guess this was a good summer because all three of those things got done.
Next week we need to start getting the kids into and out of bed earlier so that the first week is not so brutal. Also, there’s the back-to-school shopping though I try not to buy too many clothes or shoes until it gets cold because they’re sure to grow again if I do and then I have to re-buy it all. It would also be nice to do some baking for the freezer so that I have goodies to put in the kids’ lunches. And I really need to get my flower garden weeded. It looks like a grass garden right now.

Fair Food

First things first, Reagan won a blue ribbon at the fair today. For you non 4-Hers, participants can win white, red, blue and purple ribbons. White is not desirable. Red means you completed the task but could improve. Blue means good job and the top scorers in each class get purple. We are very happy with the blue. It was the first time both horse and rider had done this particular class and they did great. Now, on to the food.

If anyone ever wants to test whether or not humans can live on funnel cake alone, I volunteer to be a subject. For now, common sense tells me that this is not a good idea so we have been bringing in our own food to the fair. We were there for 11 hours today. Food is important. I was in charge of bringing breakfast. Making muffins was a no brainer, as was the coffee pot but I wanted to make something more substantial as well. The crock-pot was definitely in order as I wanted something that would be ready when we left way too early this morning and that would stay warm for a couple of hours when we got there. I found

this recipe for a breakfast casserole

and was very pleased with the results. The flavor was a bit bland for my taste, but the basic formula is good and you could do a lot of variations. Also, I made

Banana Crunch muffins

from the Barefoot Contessa. They are heavenly. You can click on the links above for the recipes or look

In the Fridge

to find them.

County Fair Pre-Show

County Fair here is open to kids who are in 4-H. The weekend before, there is an Open Show that is . . . open - to anyone with a horse who wants to compete. This is also an opportunity for the kids who ride dressage to be judged by an honest-to-goodness dressage judge. Here where the West Was Won, most people ride in the Western style and so usually the kids who ride English make do with Western judges who are doing their best to try to make the different distinctions. Completely confused? Welcome to my world.

Anyhoo, Reagan rode two tests in the Open Show. Dressage horses train for years and years to master all of the different levels. Jamboree has only been in serious training for one year, under a very green trainer I might add, though our coach, Angie, does a terrific job of directing the whole thing. So this was Jamboree’s first official show, under an official judge. Reagan was very, very nervous. She is 13 and therefore convinced that everything she does is scrutinized and judged by the ENTIRE WORLD. She needn’t have worried so much. In her first test she placed third and in her second she placed second. Woo-hoo! It was a very happy ending which is great because we sat there for 10 hours in 99 degree heat and it would have been a huge bummer had it ended badly.

Today we went out in 103 degree heat to clean and decorate stalls at the Event Center for the main event County Fair. If you are in the area, we’d love to have you come by on Wednesday (by which time the temperature should have dropped) to see Reagan and Jamboree. The fair is open Wednesday - Saturday and has free admission. You can pet goats and rabbits and llamas to your hearts content. There are lots of cows and pigs too. Also funnel cakes. It’s just a coincidence that the funnel cake vendor is set up right outside our stall, I swear. A very happy coincidence though! After Wednesday, the English events are done so we’ll be taking Jamboree back to her stable, and I will be taking a nap.

Fell Off The Wagon

After 10 hours in a dusty, horsey, hayey (that’s a word right?) arena in 99 degree heat I went home and took a shower. A very long shower. When I got out I felt very clean - except for my ears. After trying to talk myself out of it for about 45 minutes, I ran and got a Q-tip. Very satisfying and I have no regrets. I think that County Fair week should be Q-tip week as well. I’ll take up my resolve again when it is over.

I don’t know why, but the “Add a Comment” feature only doesn’t work on the original Q-tip entry so I’m moving the comments about it to here.

Q-Tip Detox

I’m just going to tell you up front here that this is probably more than you want to know about me. However, I have a problem and the first step to recovery is admitting it. I am addicted to Q-tips.

When I was little, one of my favorite things was to lie across my mom’s lap after a bath and have her clean my ears. It felt so

good

to have her run the Q-tip around my ear and get it squeaky clean. Eventually I got too old to have my mommy clean out my ears and I struck out on my own. Being able to get that clean-ear-satisfaction whenever I want to has proven to be a problem. I’ve become an abuser.

We’ve all read the articles about how Q-tips are dangerous and how you should never stick anything smaller than your elbow into your ear. I have scorned such advice. How can something that feels so good be wrong? And do I not have the cleanest ears around? I would never gross out people sitting next to me by having them glance over and see clumps of ear wax sticking out of my ear canal. I hate when that happens to me. I have come up with many reasons to justify the abuse. Finally though, the evidence overwhelmed me and I tried to cut back.

I went cold turkey. That worked for about three days and then the full sensation in my ears drove me nuts and I caved. Then I tried to just use Q-tips every other day which worked for a while until I started pretending to myself that I couldn’t remember whether or not I had used one yesterday and so I should really use one today to be sure. Finally - intervention in the form of medical authority. My friend Pam’s husband is an ENT surgeon. When we went to San Diego with them earlier this summer I knew I couldn’t walk around with my Q-tips so I left them at home and spent the whole week rubbing at my ears. Finally I asked Dana for the cold, hard facts in the hope that he could scare me out of my addiction.

He listed all the reasons why Q-tips are the tool of the devil: they push wax and debris further into your ear which can cause infection; Dana himself has removed numerous Q-tip tips from people’s ears; “chronic abusers” actually destroy the lining of the ear canal thus reducing the body’s ability to clean the ear itself and causing hearing damage. He was very convincing. But not convincing enough apparently. When we got home from San Diego I ran for the Q-tips and cleaned both ears thoroughly. Ahhhhhhh.

But I did hear what Dana said and I do want to get better. My current plan is that I am only allowed to use one Q-tip, and only on Sunday. So far I’ve been able to stick to it, but let me tell you that WAY too much of my time is spent thinking about my ears. I count down the days until Q-tip day. I rub at the outside of my ears and swallow hard - a lot. Probably it appears that I have tics. Eventually I am hoping to work up to every two weeks, then every three and I hope for the day that I no longer even think about them.

Next week I am spending Monday-Wednesday in a hot, dusty arena and so I am putting off Q-tip day until Wednesday night because I know that I’d never make it until Sunday. Planning my week around a Q-tip proves that clearly, I have issues. Big ones.

Note: The stupid Comment feature is on the hates this entry. See “Fell Off The Wagon” for comments.

Two Things

1)

If Hayden does not stop spending his days purposefully annoying his sisters, I am going to lock myself in my closet.
2) If the girls do not stop shrieking and tattling on him every time he does this, I am taking alcohol with me.

School starts in three weeks. This would be much more exciting if I did not have to go back to work then. Also, I found out yesterday that I’m working 35 hours this year, up from 25 last year. Money is good, but in my book, time is better. I’ll adjust I’m sure. Not really sure, but pretty sure.

Seeing Spots

My older two children are highly resistant to change. Pathologically resistant. Any time we want to do anything different to the house they throw unbelievable fits. Some examples:

- Both times we have gotten new cars, they cried and carried on for days and declared undying love for the old cars (which they had to hug goodbye) and made disparaging remarks about the new cars.
- When I stripped the wallpaper in the kitchen, they got hysterical. I later found scraps squirreled away in both of their bedrooms.
- Last year, when we re-carpeted the house, they cried. Hayden wore slippers for three weeks and refused to let his feet touch the new carpet until Rich threatened him.
- Both of them have had their rooms decorated the same as the way I originally did them when they were pre-schoolers and have adamantly refused all offers of a makeover.

Until now. Finally,

finally,

Reagan let me makeover her bedroom for her 13th bday. The wallpaper with scenes depicting teddy bear tea parties came down and has been replaced with pink paint and polka-dots. Reagan was the designer and Rich and I executed. A nicer mom would have used this as an opportunity to teach Reagan to paint. I have no patience for such things and the carpet is still relatively new so I did it myself.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t make the room any bigger. The original plans for this house were for a three-bedroom but the builder/owner eked out four. This means that Faith’s room is the size of a walk-in closet and Reagan’s is only slightly larger. We offered to knock out the wall between the two to let them share one large bedroom and they quickly decided that small is not so bad.

I love the re-do. Pink and polka-dots are much more age appropriate and really, only a teenaged girl can get away with it so I’m glad she has it while she can. Soon enough she’ll get married and have to decorate everything in beige and blue and blah.

Prepping For The Fair

So . . . I’m kind of a dork. It’s true.

I grew up in a suburb of Denver. To the outside world, Denver is full of cowboys and people carrying lassoes around but really, if you live there, that’s not actually true. At my high school, not a single person that I knew owned any animal more interesting than a chihuahua. No one rode horses or knew anything about livestock or poultry or hay baling. To wear Wrangler jeans to school meant social suicide. A few people (myself included which could explain how I ended up here today) listened to country music on the sly but we certainly wouldn’t have driven into the school parking lot with the windows down and Restless Heart blaring.

Fast forward 20 years and several hundred miles and I hang out with the 4-H crowd. Really - 4H. It’s because of the horse of course. We aren’t yet to the point where I have the kids making their own jam and raising rabbits to earn ribbons but we could get there. For now, we are just involved with horse stuff and Reagan is preparing to show at her first County Fair next week. County Fair is SO much fun. It’s much smaller and less scary than State Fair and it’s free so you can wander through the exhibits of pigs and cows and goats as much as you like and still afford a funnel cake. I’m all about the funnel cake. There are also rides, but they look alarmingly rickety and the people running them look . . . well traveled? So I remind the kids of whatever large amusement park we last went to and try to steer clear of the rides.

Next Saturday, Reagan and Jamboree will ride three classes in the Open Show and then the following week, another three classes in the 4-H Show. I am so, so grateful that Reagan has chosen to ride English rather than Western. Her shows are full of disciplined riding and kids with helmets. The Western classes have kids whipping around barrels and running down lines of poles at 30 mph. Also, English riders do not have to wear shiny, snap-front shirts and Wranglers. I still can’t get over the jean thing. I’ll be wearing my Luckys.

It's Random Day

I’m making Reagan’s birthday cake this morning. Yes, her birthday was two days ago, but she was in no condition to eat it that day. So tonight we are having her birthday dinner - fried chicken, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob - and carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

While waiting for the cake to bake I did some random kitchen cleaning, including my favorite chore. Mind you, there is not a lot of competition for my favorite chore. I do not keep a clean house. Ask anyone who has ever dropped by unexpectedly or who has been invited over but dared to go beyond the “public” areas of my house. It’s kinda scary. There are two reason for this:
I don’t really care.
There are SO many things to do that are more fun than cleaning.
A few things I don’t mind so much (laundry) and a few things I do just because I have to (my kitchen is relatively clean - I don’t like to prepare food in grossness). My favorite thing though is . . . vacuuming the refrigerator coils! I love to get under the fridge with the skinny vacuum attachment and suck up the hairy dust that sticks to the coils. It is very, very satisfying because the “before” and “after” are so dramatic and also I am sure that my refrigerator is colder and more efficient afterwards. All good things.
Conversely, cleaning out the

inside

of the refrigerator is one of my least favorite chores. If I wait long enough, my mom will come visit or my friend Christine will drop by and they will do it. Or, I make it a punishment for a child. Come to think of it, it needs cleaning again. Hopefully one of the kids will be really naughty in the next couple of days.

None of this has anything to do with the picture. The picture is from the 4th of July and the series of pictures that I thought I had deleted. Early in the evening, the neighborhood girls decided to blow up Barbies. I don’t know why. I’m pretty sure it was not a feminist statement or a protest against the unrealistic body type that Barbie has thrust upon them. I also don’t believe that it was significant of growing up and rejecting the toys of their childhoods. I think they just all have brothers who convinced them that it would be cool. Several Barbies met their ends that night - each in a unique and spectacular fashion. I’m so proud?

13

Reagan is 13 years old today. With a late summer birthday, she’s about the last of her friends to become a teenager so I’ve had time to ease into the idea. I think I like it. One day in, she’s still funny and engaging and generally delightful. Unfortunately, she is also sick. She slept on the bathroom floor last night because she was barfing. In case you hadn’t noticed, my kids celebrate special occasions by throwing up.

We did have a very good time before she got sick. My long-time friend, Christine, has a daughter Reagan’s age who happens to be her very best friend for 13 years. Christine and I took the girls to the mall where they studiously avoided us for three hours before we all met up at

The Melting Pot

for dinner. It was the girls’ first fondue experience but Reagan was starting to feel queasy, though she was fighting it hard, and I don’t think she enjoyed it as much as she could have. I did though. What is not to love about pots of melted cheese and chocolate?

Earlier in the week, I took my three kids to my parents’ lake house to hang out with my dad. It was great to get away and just enjoy sun and sand and water for a few days. We rode the boat and the kids played endlessly in the water. Also, I took them into the small town nearby to see

Wall-E

(SUCH a dumb, boring movie but the kids liked it. ) and it only cost $17 for all four of us to see a movie - at night. I love small towns.

My dad is a high school track coach and he just happened to have some hurdles with him. The only really strange thing about that is that I don’t find it strange. Doesn’t everyone have shot puts in their garage? Aren’t pre-wrap and athletic tape standard medicine cabinet items? I have been raised to believe these are normal things. But I digress. Again.

So my dad had hurdles. This was great because he took Reagan out and showed her how to run them. Last spring, Reagan’s track coaches gave her this advice about hurdles: “Run fast. Try not to hit them.” Then they sat them up

backwards

and let the kids figure it out on their own. It made me crazy. So in two, half-hour sessions with her grandpa, Reagan made a lot of progress.

I put other pictures up

On the Fridge.

Also, take a look at new recipes

In the Fridge.

Summer Television

Pretty much, television over the summer is re-runs and bad reality shows. We don’t watch much t.v. this time of year because it’s generally so unenjoyable. However - the girls and I have become kind of hooked on

TLC’s Jon and Kate Plus Eight

. They are running the past three seasons, plus the current one all the time and we record them and watch them when we’re in a vegging mood. I totally love this show. It’s a reality show that follows a family that has twin 8 year old girls and 4 year old sextuplets. Basically, your average child-bearing nightmare.

I love it because of course the kids are adorable and watching sextuplet toddlers do

anything

is entertaining. Also I like that Jon and Kate snark at each other in a manner that I think a lot of couples do (well, we do anyway) but still manage to look as if they are genuinely happy together. The icing on the cake is that Kate IS my sister Nicki, and Jon is a Korean version of Nicki’s husband, Brett. Even my kids noticed. Nicki and Kate even have similar hair. So I like to watch it and see just how Nicki would behave if she had eight children (which, if she keeps going off to the corners of the world and bringing home adorable babies to love she may very well have one day).

I am so currently taken with this program that I even went and looked at the message boards to see why the grandparents are never shown. That question didn’t get answered but reading the boards blew my mind. Who

are

these people who make horrible comments about real, innocent people? Does having your family on television mean that people can start posting threads about the relative homliness of one of your daughters vs. another? Seriously. What gives people license to comment at length on the mental health of a stranger’s child? I am aghast. No more message boards for me. The

family’s homepage

is much nicer. And when producer’s call and want to put make my family into a reality show, I’m telling them “no way.” I already know that I’m screwing this up, I don’t need faceless strangers discussing it at length.

I’m sorry the commenting feature isn’t working here. I don’t know what’s up with that. Hopefully it will be functioning soon.

Facebook

My 20th high school reunion is this month. I am not going. There’s probably a really long blog entry in the reasoning behind that situation and I may get into it later this month. However, that’s a lot of self-examination and who enjoys that? So for now I’m using Reagan’s birthday as my excuse. She turns 13 that weekend which is a superbigdeal and I must be here for it. Right? Right.

While I am not attending my reunion, there are some people I’d love to talk to again. I started out with Classmates and got in touch with Eric that way and heard all about the five lifetimes he’s packed into my one, but Classmates has a very annoying format that requires money and is fairly restrictive. So I got a facebook account. I started out feeling waaaay too old to be on facebook. The only person I could find who I knew was my college-aged cousin Amanda. She was kind enough to accept my friending and I spent a few days being entertained by updates on her sorority life.
Then, I found

Brian

from high school. I got caught up on his very exciting and successful life in New York which left me feeling slightly mediocre and very mid-western but it was great to hear from him and discover that he’s still funny and friendly and talented. I also got caught up with Matt and Stacy and Melissa. That exhausted the high school friends I could find.
By that time though, I’d added my local 20something friends. It turns out, that if I want to keep up with their lives and communicate quickly, that facebook is the way to go. They’re all there and use it regularly. I love it.
The most interesting find was my long, lost, internet friend Heather. I’ve never met her but we used to communicate regularly and I was totally bummed when I realized I didn’t have her e-mail anymore. There she was on facebook though and I was so happy to find her.
The most disturbing find? Looking up one of my college friends and finding his teenage daughter instead and then realizing that I have an almost teenage daughter of my own. Someone pass me my cane please.
Rounding out my friend list are a few friends from my former life in Denver and my sisters and some of their real life friends. Also, Rich, but he doesn’t count because our lives haven’t gotten quite so busy that I need facebook to keep up with my own husband. Which is lucky for me because he never checks his. He’s kinda lame that way.
Really, I don’t know why facebook is a “young people thing.” When I was younger I had time to keep up with all of my friends. Plus, I saw all of them all the time. Now I have 30+ years worth of friends and acquaintances spread out across the country and little time to talk with them - assuming I know how to find them in the first place. I love the format of having everyone in one place with updates as frequently as they care to give them.

Shoot, I’m sounding like a paid advertisement here which was not my intent. I’m a bit rambly today. I had a great blog written in my head about the Barbie dolls the kids blew up on the 4th, but I accidentally deleted the pictures and the story wasn’t much good without them. So here are my thoughts on facebook instead. I’ll try to have a more interesting rest of the week.

Sleepy

I am too old to miss a night’s sleep. I know that people my age are still having babies, but I cannot fathom how they survive the first year. The sleepless night in Amarillo has caused all kinds of upset this week. My body is demanding that I make up every missed minute - plus interest. That would explain how I slept until 9:20 today when THE PARADE STARTS AT 10:00.

Every 4th of July, our neighborhood has a parade complete with fire truck, decorated bikes and wagons and - usually - llamas. Our llama owning neighbors apparently do not understand or care about my need for continuity and tradition and did not bring the llamas this year. It was very disappointing. Because of that, and my late sleeping, there are no parade pictures.

Now I’m taking a break from party prep and trying very hard not to crawl off into a quiet corner for a nap. We are hosting the neighborhood potluck tonight. You wish that you were here. My neighbors can cook. There will be no deli-potato salad or canned beans here tonight. I was incapable of coming up with a recipe this week, so

Meredith

sent me one for a Chopped Salad with Salsa Verde Dressing. I’m about half way through making it and so far it looks and smells very yummy. I’ll go ahead and trust that it’s delicious and post it

In the Fridge

.

Tomorrow, Reagan has a horse show. We’re gearing up for County Fair the first week of August. Stay tuned for yet more pictures of Reagan on a horse. I can’t get enough of them - please pretend that you feel the same.

San Diego

We spent last week in San Diego with our friends, Pam and Dana and their three girls. They are from that area so they showed us around and their kids’ friends became our kids’ friends. It was a great trip.

Faith is an excellent traveling companion. She makes everything about a trip seem even more fun and exciting. Faith’s life is full of exclamation points.
“Look! Our plane!”
“Hey! The seat moves back!”
“I can open and shut the window shade!”
“They bring us pop! For free!”
And so on and so forth through the whole trip. It’s not even annoying because every exclamation is accompanied by a wide-eyed, gleeful smile. I love that kid.

For both Hayden and Faith the highlight of the trip out was the layover. Dallas/Ft. Worth airport has a sky-train. I rode it with the two of them through an entire circuit. We were in the front car and they stood in the front window in a surfer pose and created their own musical accompaniment to their super surfing skills.

Pasted Graphic 126

We got in to SD late, but our friends were still up to greet us at the beach house we rented. We got everyone to bed and semi-rested so that we could hit the beach the next day. It was my kids’ first ocean experience. Their conclusion? Salty but fun. They also hunted for crabs. Here are Faith and Jenna tracking them down.

They brought the critters back to the beach house, named them and set up a habitat for them in a recycling bin. Here is how the crab thing eventually turned out:

Not so well. Our best beach story happened on a day when the water was full of people. There were so many that it was hard to pick out my own kids in the crowd. However, when the lifeguard came streaking by me with her surfboard I just knew it was for Hayden. Pam and I watched her head for the water and tried to pick out where she was headed and sure enough - it was my son. He was fine, though he did agree to hang on to her surfboard and rest for a minute or two, “because she kept asking me if I was ok so I thought I’d make her feel better.”

We also spent a day at Sea World and the San Diego Zoo. Those were just as much fun as we thought they would be. I’m sure you’ve seen the commercials too, so I won’t bore you with the details. There are pictures

On the Fridge

.

It was a fabulous trip. I’d love to visit that area again. The home prices in that area were astronomical, but the weather and scenery are so gorgeous that I can see why people pay them. It’s good to be home though. I have a deep appreciation now for my grocery and gas prices. Also, if I were a poet I could write a whole sonnet about my own bed.

Please Do NOT Show Me The Way To Amarillo

We got back yesterday from a super-fun trip to San Diego. I have pictures and stories and so much to tell you. The problem is that we were supposed to have gotten back on

Saturday

from a super-fun trip to San Diego and are now recovering from the airport nightmare.

No, not the nightmare that involves terrorists and bomb sniffing dogs. The nightmare where you’re flying into Dallas for a layover and there’s a thunderstorm so you get “diverted to Amarillo for a few minutes for re-fueling.” Then, when you’re on the ground in Amarillo they discover a mechanical issue that will just take a few minutes to fix. Two hours later when the plane’s toilets are starting to overflow and the kids are trying to discover how to make the oxygen masks drop from the ceiling, they tell you that the mechanic is in another city and has to be flown in along with a replacement flight crew so they let you off the plane, into the Amarillo airport where you spend the next four hours thinking wistfully of your own bed.

Then, when you fly back to Dallas at 3:30 in the morning you find that there’s no way to get to a hotel and back and get any kind of sleep in the five hours before your re-scheduled flight home so you set the kids up on cots and make the best of it. That nightmare.

In our version, Rich did not get to sleep at all because of a teeny snoring problem that he has. If he sleeps, no one else on the concourse can. Also, he had packed his glasses and contact lens solution and checked them in his baggage. So he stayed up the whole time - and took pictures, apparently.

Hayden is under the row of benches on the right. The lights were not dimmed at all, so he put on his sunglasses and got in the darkest spot he could find and slept there. I kind of envied him. I slept for about 45 minutes before the light and the constant intercom announcements got to me. Not only were the lights bright, but they buzzed like a gigantic, glowing mosquito hovering overhead. Not restful.

We finally got home yesterday morning. Unfortunately, our luggage did not fare as well. It arrived late last night. Rich had to play guitar at an outdoor “summer bash” at church last night so we all grabbed an hour or two of sleep in the afternoon and headed to church where we stayed until they finished the fireworks at 10 p.m. I’m glad we had somewhere to be so that we got semi on schedule sleep wise, though we slept till 11 this morning. Rich’s eyes look like he rubbed them with sandpaper.

Other than the ride home, we really did have a super-fun trip and when I catch up on laundry, I’ll get pictures and accompanying stories right up!

Not As Bad As I Thought It Would Be

A couple of weeks ago, our dishwasher went berserk. It would not stop filling and water went all over the floor and soaked through and was coming down the walls in the basement. This particular dishwasher has given us problems before and we know from experience that getting it repaired is not cheap. Also, dishwashers

last about 10 years

and we were on year number eight of an appliance that often got used twice a day. So fixing wasn’t a sane option.

On the other hand, I wasn’t really in the mood to buy a new one. We just replaced the stove which was throwing sparks across the kitchen (do the machines talk to each other a pick a break down date?) and we have a vacation coming up and I have more fun things I need to spend money on than a dishwasher. Rich and I hashed out all of the options in the appliance section of the home improvement store and finally walked out empty-handed. I had a plumber come out and remove the old dishwasher and check the pipes and now there is a big empty space where the dishwasher was. Well, actually I put the trash can there, but it is mostly empty.

I have

never

been without a dishwasher before. My parents always had one, every apartment I rented in college had one, all of our houses have had one. I had to go out last week and buy a dish drainer because I didn’t own one. I really didn’t know what to expect here but I was expecting the worst as far as time spent and coaxing the children to do the chore. I was wrong.

Perhaps it’s the novelty of the sink of suds, but the kids like doing the dishes better this way. Also, the dishes are a lot cleaner and because they get washed more frequently, we never run out of spoons anymore. When I take my turn, I find that it’s kind of soothing and peaceful to stand over the hot water and get everything so clean. Of course, I’m not planning any giant dinner parties or elaborate meals in the near future.

It turns out, that contrary to my thinking, dishwashers are not a necessity. We’ll probably get a new one in the fall when I’m back to work and have less time, but for now we’re making do and it’s going just fine.

Dance Recital 2008

So much fun. We had SO much fun this weekend! It would be very convenient right now to refer you to the bit I wrote last year about recital weekend and all of the vicarious living that I do through Faith. Of course that isn’t possible since the blog monster came and ate all of last year’s entries. In summary: Faith has a happy amount of rhythm and grace and athletic ability - all things that I am in short supply of myself. What we have in common though is a love of drama and having all eyes on us so she has a great time at her dance recitals and she takes me along for the ride. I get to appreciate the flurry of preparation and applause through her. It’s fabulous.

This year’s recital theme was “Icons.” Each class picked a popular icon and designed a dance around them/it. For ballet, Faith had “

Sacagawea

” (the above costume which I do not love because what kind of Native American wears aqua sequins?) and for her jazz class they had “

Eartha Kitt.

” All three performances went off without mishap and to great applause. In fact the whole show was wonderful - full of adorable little kids who didn’t know their steps (and didn’t care) and really talented older girls who were deliciously overly dramatic about

everything.

Plus, for the first time, my parents were able to make it out from Denver to watch. With Rich’s mom also in the audience, Faith felt like she had quite a fan base.

My very favorite part of this year’s costuming was Faith’s ponytail. She cut her hair short at Christmas and while it was adorable, it has not grown out enough to make a decent ponytail which is what she needed for her jazz costume. So we bought one. For $13 at Sally’s Beauty Supply we got a gorgeous pin-on ponytail. Items like that make it fun to be a girl. Here’s a pic of the ponytail, the rest are On the Fridge.

Sneak Preview

It is dance recital weekend! Woo-hoo! The one weekend a year where everything is all about Faith (and Mindee’s frustrated-inner-child-performer). Dress rehearsal was tonight and I took this picture. You know that by Sunday a whole album will be up On the Fridge with all the details.

Stay tuned . . .

Live From The Basement

I’m snuggled into a bean bag chair with Faith in our very cluttered storage room in the basement. We have lived here 8 1/2 years. In that time, the tornado sirens have gone off four times. One time was last Wednesday and two times were tonight.

A half hour before the sirens went off we told the kids to gather their pets and beloved items and head for the basement to play. Once they called the warning, we all went to the interior room. In our walk-out basement the only room without windows is the storage room where we also have the furnace, water heater and deep freezer. It is not scenic or comfortable. The cats are both shoved into the single cat carrier. They are not comfortable either.

Both girls have suddenly discovered that they had to pee so Rich has had to accompany them to the bathroom. To top it all off, Hayden keeps farting. Nasty, smelly, farting. He’s not my favorite right this minute. Why the poodle has not abandoned her spot next to him, I do not know.

Rich is disgruntled at the whole scenario. Given his choice, he would be standing in the driveway with binoculars but every time he leaves the room, the kids and I whimper and make him come back. He grew up in tornado country and is very blase about the whole thing. However, the man on the radio is talking about funnel clouds hanging over the city so my panic overrides his calm, because the science is on my side this time. He did get away long enough to take the picture at the top of the river that has appeared in our backyard. I had to way over-expose it to be able to see anything because it’s so dark out. Oops. Hold on a minute.

Yeah, so this hole behind me that would have a sump pump in it if we had one, is filling with water. It hasn’t ever done that before. How . . . . interesting? I’m going to go deal with that. I’ll update tomorrow and let you know how it turned out.

Thursday morning:

After two hours in the storage room, I threatened to send Hayden down the stream that was flowing behind our house. That was the worst of it though and we’re feeling pretty fortunate about that this morning.

Horrible things happened

in our general area, but my neighbor and I walked the neighborhood this morning and only saw two trees down. No tornadoes touched down in our town and while I’m sure that there are many wet basements and impassable streets due to flooding, it appears that no one was hurt. As for our basement - we sucked the water out of the sump pump hole with the shop-vac and all was well.

Second Week Of Summer

Last week I got our bedroom stripped of wallpaper, spackled, sanded, primed and painted. Actually, Rich did the hard work of the sanding which is good because he is much more of a perfectionist than I. If I had done it myself we would have a lumpy wall.

Right this minute I am blogging to avoid going upstairs and vacuuming up all the dust and putting the furniture back. Then I need to complete the laundry because the washer and dryer are in our bathroom (see “Morons”) and stripping the wallpaper in there is the next project.

The kids had a good first week of vacation. We’ve been to the pool and stayed up late and had water gun fights. Also, Reagan and I were nearly killed by a tornado which was terrifying but is making for a good story this week. Actually “almost killed” may be an overstatement as no tornado actually formed in our immediate vicinity, but the sirens were going off, the clouds were black and the rain was torrential and we were in the Suburban which is heavy, but not that heavy. It was enough to make both of us cry.

They are starting to crack a bit this week. I’m hearing more “I’m bored” and “Can I have a snack?”. This morning, Reagan and Hayden got into a HUGE fight because he asked her opinion on his singing and she told him that he sounds like Johnny Cash. Apparently he finds that insulting. I walked into the kitchen to find them both red-faced and screaming. Hayden was rolling around on the floor clutching his face and wailing. He had kicked Reagan and she had shoved him and her finger got in his eye. He was insistent that she had “poked his eye out.” I told him that he’d better pick it up and put it back in before the poodle ate it. Then I made Reagan make his lunch for him because it’s hard to assemble a PBJ with only one eyeball. Over lunch he made a recovery and Faith insisted that they forgive each other which they finally agreed to. I think she had an ulterior motive though. They’ve been playing a game they made up called “Dancing With The Siblings” where Faith and Reagan get in costumes and perform dance routines and Hayden critiques them in a British accent and gives them (usually) good scores. Faith loves this game and knew that if they were fighting that it would be off the option list for this afternoon.

Let me assure you though that all of this is better than going to work.

Morons

I am taking a small break from stripping wallpaper to eat lunch and vent.

No matter where you live or how nice your house is, there is a homeowner rule that it universally true: The previous owner was an idiot. More often than not, an idiot with bad taste. If you are the first owner of your home, then the builder was an idiot. In our case, the previous owner was also the builder so the idiocy is compounded.

When we moved in eight years ago, I hated the wallpaper in our bedroom and bathroom but learned to live with it because that’s easier than stripping wallpaper. However, we have now re-done every other room and I can’t put it off any more so the wallpaper is coming down. This morning I scored it and sprayed on the stripping solution and started to remove it and discovered that THEY DID NOT PAINT THE WALL BEFORE THEY APPLIED THE WALLPAPER! There is one measly coat of primer up and that is all. So along with the wallpaper, the top layer of drywall is coming off in some places which means that I’m going to have to spackle and sand a whole bunch before I paint, and even then I’ll probably have to hang lots
of pictures.

Thankfully, in the bedroom they just papered one wall and put up a border. When I get to the bathroom though, every inch is covered. I’m going to have to learn some new curse words because I don’t think that my current vocabulary is going to cover that situation.

Thanks for listening.

Almost To Funny

I wrote the following a few months ago. At the time, it was decidedly not funny, but I could see that it might be after I had calmed down. I’m almost there. Hayden gave me permission to post this because he’s pretty proud of his planning and foresight.

Yesterday was report card day for Hayden and Faith.  Teachers hand them out at the end of the day in sealed envelopes to take home.  Hayden was already in trouble before he got his.  He had kind of manipulated information this week (he's too smart for outright lying) and misled his teacher to get extra library time.  His teacher is not actually as stupid as he thinks she is and figured it out so he owes her two recesses but he still had to face me.  As soon as he got to my desk after school, I let him know that I wasn't pleased. We walked out to the car while I lectured and headed home.

I always let the kids open their report cards and look at them before I do so that they know what they're in for.  Our grading system is as follows:
4 = exceeds requirements
3 = meets requirements
2 = getting there but needs more work
1 = failed

In the car, Faith looked over her report card and bounced around and fluttered it in my face because she got all 3s and 4s.  Yay for her!  Hayden didn't say anything.  When we got home, I took his report card.  He is allowed a 2 for Handwriting, but is expected to have 3s or above for everything else.  He had three 1s (handwriting, spelling and writing mechanics) and numerous 2s - mostly for behavioral stuff.  I was beyond mad and had to go pick Reagan up from track so I told him to get a snack and go to his room and we would talk later.

When I got back with Reagan, I was still very, very mad. Furious even. Enough so, that I had no plans to deal with Hayden any time soon. I parked in the garage and noticed a lot of dog food on the floor.  This was annoying but not unusual.  Reagan went upstairs to shower.  Much yelling and banging on doors ensued, followed by Reagan hollering that Hayden wouldn't let her in the bathroom.  He is known to take elaborate amounts of time pooping so I told her to go use our shower.  I then went out to start the grill for hamburgers.  As I was going out the back door, I noticed that the dog's water bowl was missing.  I chose to not think about that for the time being.

Things were going along quietly although Reagan kept trying to tattle on her brother for something and I kept telling her to be quiet.  I went out and brought the hamburgers in and tried to assemble dinner but could not find the hamburger buns.  I had had a pack of 12 of them sitting on the counter and that's kind of a hard thing to misplace.  It's not like you go into the bathroom and leave the hamburger buns behind (although I did check there just to be sure.)  Finally, I turned to Reagan and said, "This may sound weird, but would you go upstairs and see if your brother has the hamburger buns?"

A few moments later, she was happy to report that he did indeed have the hamburger  buns and was refusing to relinquish them.  I trudged up the stairs and found my son barricaded in the bathroom with the poodle.  I convinced him to hand over the buns but he refused to come out because he "didn't want to get yelled at."  Fine.  I told him dinner would be ready in five minutes and  to get downstairs.  I did not say it nicely.  Of course he did not come down, so I called Rich, filled him in on what he was about to walk in on and sat down to eat with the girls.

Rich came home all calm and nice and ate with us and then we headed upstairs.  Rich nicely, but firmly, told me that he would handle this.  He may have hinted that I was in an irrational state of mind.  He may have been right about that.  He walked to the bathroom and asked Hayden to come out and explained that if Hayden thought he had the only key to the door, he was sadly mistaken.  Hayden came out.

They had a nice, logical conversation about Hayden's grades, his lying and his bathroom blockade.  It ended with loss of all video games for the rest of the school year for the grades (and longer if there were still 1s on the final report card), a threat to have him removed from the mentor program if he tried to pull one over on his teacher again and a week-long loss of his bedroom door for the bathroom stunt.

Then we went into the bathroom.  Hayden had stockpiled trail mix, oranges, apples, bananas, hamburger buns, books, pillows, dog food and the water bowl.  He also had a pile of grocery sacks that he had planned to hold under the dog when she had to "go" and then he was going to flush the contents down the toilet.

Hayden would like you all to know that he chose the bathroom because of the toilet and running water and because it didn’t have a window that I could “bust in to get to” him. See what I mean about how 5th grade was a rough year for Hayden and everyone else here? Thank heavens it’s over.

It's Over!

School is out. Summer has begun. Smiles abound.

Thursday, the next to last day, was rough. I have always suspected that not a lot of learning went on during the last week of school. That suspicion is confirmed. Grades were turned in and report cards had been printed and there were still several days left. Teachers filled the time with movies and extra recesses and “walking field trips” to the local library and playground. Out of their normal routines and with vacation stretching ahead, the kids were pretty much bananas. Loudly bananas. I had one last kindergardener poop his pants in the bathroom by me, parents were in and out all day and things were happily chaotic. By the time I left, I was exhausted. I was totally dreading the last day, but Faith saved me.

She woke up at 4:30 on Friday morning with a fever and hacking cough. I fussed over her and got her back to sleep and crawled back into my own bed with an enormous smile on my face. Rich had a meeting with his CIO and couldn’t possibly take the day off so I had to. Summer started a day early. It was like Christmas-in-late-May.

After his meeting, Rich came home and sat with Faith and I went to Hayden’s 5th grade commencement ceremony. It was a simple affair, which I appreciated. It annoys me that 5th and 8th grade “graduations” have become such a big deal. Completing 5th and 8th grades are pretty much life’s minimum requirements. Do we need to throw parties for completing the minimum? I don’t think so. At our school, the principal gave some nice thoughts and each of the students offered “words of wisdom” and got a certificate and a cookie.

Most of the “words of wisdom” were sweet or smart, but some were amusing. They went something like this:

“In my 11 years of living, one thing I have learned is . . .
don’t worry about what others think of you.
eat nutritious food.
wear shoes or you’ll get cuts on your feet.
love your parents as much as you can because you don’t know how long they’ll be around.
Time is precious; don’t waste yours or anyone else’s.
get good grades so you can make a lot of money.
don’t wear flip-flops to gym.”

Hayden’s words of wisdom were: “Advice I have figured out from my 11 years of living: Do not look at the glass as half full or half empty. Instead, strike out and fill it.”

We’re looking forward to him starting middle school in the fall. He outgrew the elementary environment about six months ago and it’s been a rough hoe ever since. I’m hoping that middle school will be more challenging and that the process of changing classes every hour will help with his restlessness. I also think that the fact that no single teacher will have him for more than an hour a day will be beneficial for everyone. We can hope anyway!

One thing that will be huge for him is that he qualifies for a mentor. He was classified as “highly gifted” by the school district this year which means that for an hour a day, in place of regular class time, he receives one on one instruction from a mentor who can lead him above and beyond the standard curriculum. Hayden’s mentor will be in science which is good because he gets super frustrated and bored in that class because he has so many questions that he wants to get further into and the teacher just doesn’t have the time. Unfortunately, when Hayden is frustrated and bored, everyone suffers so this should be a good solution.

Final Pooping Bandit update

: The Bandit wins. He was never caught. There were no more poop filled toilet paper dispensers in the last week or two so the trail grew cold. Hopefully the Bandit is a kid who is moving on this summer so we don’t have to revisit the matter in the fall.

Ingrates

I

love

home-made macaroni and cheese. In fact, I would like to curl up in a giant bowl of warm macaroni and cheese and take a nap. I would wake up and stretch and lick the cheesy goodness off of my arms. Oh, happiness.
With all of the love I feel towards this dish, you’d think I’d have it fairly often, but no. Reagan and Hayden declare that they hate home-made macaroni and cheese. As far as they are concerned, if it doesn’t come out of a blue box and have powdery cheese, it’s not the real thing.
Today, though I wanted comfort food. I am mentally limping towards the last day of school tomorrow. The cacophony of noise the kindergardeners have been making this week is sending me to my breaking point and food is cheap therapy. So today I slow-cooked a ham and made macaroni and cheese. Since it’s been a couple of years since I’ve made it, I thought I had a pretty good shot at slipping it by the kids. I re-named it “Cheesy Pasta Bake” and put it on their plates.
They sat down all excited about the ham and poked at the macaroni.
“What’s in it?”
“Cheese and pasta.”
“So is it macaroni and cheese?”
“Well, kind of.”
“What else does it have in it?”
“Milk.”
“Mac and cheese has milk in it.”
“Just eat!”
They nibbled a few bites and decided it was edible and actually finished their servings. Success? I guess so. I really wish that they wouldn’t make me feel like I was torturing them when in reality I’m making them creamy, yummy goodness.

I’m posting the recipe In The Fridge and then heading for the basement because the grim man on my television is telling me that a fleet of tornadoes is headed my way. Fun. I hope they’ve passed before the

Lost

finale later. I hate it when natural disasters interfere with my television viewing pleasure.

Speaking Of Old Music . . .

I have a new habit on Sunday mornings that makes me start out in the best mood. You’d think that it would be easy to be happy on Sunday mornings. There’s no work, we get to head to church and out to lunch and take a nap in the afternoon. What’s not to like? If you have to ask, you aren’t a mom. By the time I get everyone up and supervise the eating and dressing and squabbling and get to church, I am feeling less than holy. When Rich is here, it’s easier but most Sundays he leaves before we’re up to rehearse for worship. (In his head, he’s a rock star. In reality he plays at church. I’ve seen mid-life crises that are much worse.)

So Sunday mornings have been a crab-fest for a long time - but no more. Some radio genius has decided to market Casey Kasem’s old American Top 40 programs from the 70’s and they play here on Sunday mornings. Now I get to wake up and listen to a young CK in his inimitable style introduce songs that I don’t actually remember from when they came out the first time, but have either loved or thoroughly mocked in the years since then. This morning was especially great. The show was from 1978 and Casey told me, without a trace of irony or sarcasm, that Barry Manilow’s “Can’t Smile Without You” had spent 10 weeks in the top 10 but was unfortunately now at number 14. Then he played it. Awesome. You can’t listen to that song and NOT be happy. A couple of songs later, Olivia Newton John and John Travolta sang “You’re the One That I Want” and my mood was set for the day.

Minor rabbit trail here: Has there ever been a movie with a worse message for young women than Grease? Essentially what we learn here is that to get the guy, we should give up studying and our values and take up smoking and hooker clothes. Nice. Of course I love this movie and have entire scenes committed to memory but I’m sure I feel bad about it. Oh wait, there is a worse movie. The one where we learn that prostitution is a great way to earn money and meet Prince Charming - “Pretty Woman.” I love that movie too, but you can’t sing along to it.

Back on topic now. If you would like to join my Sunday morning happiness, click on this

wikipedia page

for a list of stations where it plays. Some of you will have to settle for Saturday happiness unfortunately. Or for those of you who pay for your radio, I understand that XM radio carries these old broadcasts as well.

Mom! We Learned A New Song Today!

I was sitting at my desk today while the third graders were in P.E. class in the gym right next to me. Our P.E. teacher, Mrs. C, is a wonderful lady who does a great job getting kids excited about exercise and life-long fitness. I’m going to mention her age her not because it is relevant to her job, but because it is relevant to the story. My guess is that Mrs. C is 50something which makes her 15-20 years older than I am.

That age difference probably explains her music choices today. Usually the kids are in there playing to KidzBop tunes or songs from the 60’s. Disney stuff is also popular. It’s usually pleasant and predictable and I’ve gotten to where I just tune it out. Today though there must have been a new CD because suddenly Quiet Riot was blasting out of the gym. I looked up in shock and caught the eye of a passing teacher who looked stunned as well. Mrs. C must have quickly realized that the song was a bit hard core for the kids because it suddenly changed to a catchy little ditty. A pleasant, whistling tune with accompanying clapping. I recognized it within three notes as

Centerfold

by the J. Geils Band. If you aren’t familiar with the song, it’s about a young man who is looking through a “girlie magazine” and sees a former classmate, who he has had lifelong fond memories of, in the Centerfold. If you need further clarification, or a hilarious trip down memory lane, click

here

for the video.

I waited for the song to get to the lyrics to see if Mrs. C had one of those CD’s where they change the lyrics to make the song kid friendly although I couldn’t imagine how they could do that with this particular song. But no, it started right in with “Does she walk? Does she talk? Does she come complete?” so I jumped up and went over to the gym door, laughing. Mrs. C saw me standing coming her way and poked her head out to see what I needed.

“Mrs. C? Do you know what this song is about?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s about porn.”
“Oh! Goodness! Good thing you’re listening out there. I’ll go change it.”

My reward for this good deed? A good laugh and the next forty minutes listening to the High School Musical soundtrack. And yes, the album cover above is

Freeze Frame

from the J. Geils Band. No making fun of me for calling it an album either because that’s exactly what it was.

There are only four school days left and then much of my blog fodder is on hold for the summer. Hopefully something good will happen next week to send us off to summer with a smile.