Big Kid Pants

He's No Ansel Adams But...

2011-04-13T15:44:00.001-06:00

Many parents have had this experience; you upload the pictures from the camera and there are 300 blurry photos of someone's belly, knee, the dog, etc. Recently I looked at the pictures on our camera and found several interesting ones of Libby. When I asked the kids about the photos Dane informed me this was an artistic series he titled "Libby's Five Senses." I thought his idea was pretty clever.

The Cat With 9.5 Lives

2011-04-11T14:44:00.002-06:00

Twelve years ago we were living in a tiny basement apartment in Jersey City, New Jersey. I found this huge, hungry, black and white cat on the street and took him in. We named him Goliath because he was the biggest bad-ass cat either of us had ever seen. He moved into our hearts (corny, I know), our condo, then a few years later to our home in Utah.

We lived in our new house in Pleasant Grove for all of three weeks when "the incident" took place. Our neighbor's dog jumped on their trampoline then over the fence into our backyard and attacked Goliath. Brad chased the dog away but Goliath took off through a small hole in the back fence. We couldn't find him. I put up flyers and 24 hours later a neighbor on the next block called. Goliath was found under one of their bushes in pretty bad shape. I rushed him to the vet and long story made short...we ended up with a three-legged cat.

Pre-amputation, trying to save the leg. Goliath also had a wound on his hindquarter large enough to stick your fist in. Gross, I know.

Leg amputated, still using a feeding tube.

Goliath mobile on three legs, eating on his own, and wearing a buster collar

Does his meow sound louder while wearing the collar?

Tripod

Cat nap

Goliath in 2004--Even on three legs he climbs to his favorite spot on top of the fridge

As you can see from the pictures, Goliath got along just fine on three legs. As the oldest "kid" in our family, each time we brought home a new baby he snuggled on the soft blankets and clothes. When we adopted a dog, he tolerated the licking and chasing from an eager puppy.

A few years ago Goliath mysteriously lost the use of one of his back legs. I was devastated when I drove him to the vet, knowing it was one thing for a cat to get by on three legs, pretty sure two legs was...well you can formulate a picture in your mind...impossible. The vet gave him a steroid shot and sure enough he recovered.

As Goliath got older he preferred life undisturbed by kids, sunning himself on the deck. He snored. He purred loudly on a friendly lap. He also went deaf. I could run the vacuum all around him and he wouldn't even look up or move, but he would startle if you picked him up without first making eye-contact. He lost most of his teeth and scattered cat food everywhere. Through it all Goliath was sweet and loving. He was also a local attraction. Guests and friends always marvelled at his tenacity.

A few months ago we noticed Goliath wasn't his usual happy self. The vet informed us he was having kidney trouble, but on a new diet he improved and perked up.  Last week I gave him his bath (he quit grooming himself a long time ago) and he didn't seem to mind, which if you understand anything about cats and water, was unusual. I just knew in my gut that he wouldn't live much longer. We tried a few things to help him feel better but it became clear his kidneys were failing.

I've never had to decide to put an animal to sleep before. When I was younger my parents chose for me. It went something like this: we moved to Florida and Dad was supposed to bring my dog, Nakita, when he came a few months later. Except Dad showed up without Nakita and instead a lousy explanation, "Sorry, she just didn't like riding in the car so I took her to the pound." We had several other pets that died of natural causes, including a dog that got shot by a neighbor because it was eating the neighbor's chickens, and several cats that found themselves on the wrong side of a car.

We tried a few things to help Goliath get better, but it became clear he was fading. I made the decision on Saturday morning that it was probably time to let Goliath go. I wished for more obvious confirmation of my choice.  Could he live for another week, another month? Should I just wait and see? Seriously, who wonders if it's time to euthanize a deaf, toothless, 14-year-old-three-legged cat in kidney failure? I do, that's who.

The kids were at Grandma's for a sleepover and I wanted to give them a chance to say goodbye. Given the vet's office hours this meant that Goliath needed to stick it out until Monday morning. So I found myself giving the cat sub-cutaneous fluids (yes, I know how to give a cat sub-cutaneous fluids) and living in a strange cat version of Weekend at Bernie's.  On Monday morning I explained to the kids that it was time to say goodbye to our kitty. We had the circle-of-life talk (cue Lion King theme music) and told them, "We have given him so much love and he had a great life. This is better than letting him suffer." It was cliche but I suppose the right thing to say. Interestingly, they reacted exactly as their personalities would dictate. Dane, with sarcasm and humor, "You're putting him the carrier!? You're going to make him spend the last hour of his life in a CAGE?!" Camile with optimism, "Well, good thing we have two cats! And we can always pick up another stray." Libby with tears and lip trembling, "He's going to die? Is he sad? I'm very sad."

Brad had to go with me and Goliath to the vet or else I would lose my nerve. I was sick to my stomach. In the animal hospital lobby the vet keeps a little picture book I made which chronicles Goliath's dog attack and recovery. I assembled the book soon after Goliath's amputation to show other pet owners that cats can do very well on three legs.  According to the staff, this book has become one of the most popular items in their office.  We flipped through the pictures while waiting for our turn and it made us both cry. Neither of us could stop the waterworks after that.  As expected it was a peaceful goodbye.

We brought Goliath home and buried him in the spot we picked out under the forsythia bush. It's a sunny corner, I think he'll like it.

Lies Child Experts Sold Me...

2011-02-14T16:44:00.013-07:00

I've read them all. Every parenting advice book from Dr. Sears to Dr. Dobson. These two authors and all the ones in between are Ph.D.'s with years of experience in counseling and research. In addition to formal research they also cite mounds of anecdotal evidence from parents who swear by their prescribed methods. Yesterday I had a mommy moment that required me to implement the parenting strategies I've read about which I just knew would come in handy someday.
"I just don't want to do anything anymore!" said Dane with exasperation.
I moved in quickly with strategy number one, which comes from How to Talk so Kids Will Listen and Listen so Kids Will Talk by Faber and Mazlish. I just knew I could help Dane recognize the good things in his life by steering the conversation in a positive direction.
"Sounds like you are having a bad day. What do you mean you don't want to do anything?"
"I don't want to do Scouts anymore. It's boring and I'm not any good at it."
"I thought you liked building the bird house, and it turned out nice."
"It was dumb. But I was the one who figured out how to put the houses together."
"Sounds like you were helpful."
"I don't care! I'm quitting everything."
"Everything? Even school? I thought you enjoyed school."
"Yes, school, too. I'm going to become a caveman!"
What happened? I thought we were approaching a positive conclusion! Instead our chat was taking a dive, but there was still time to recover. I went for strategy number two, which I learned from Love and Logic by Cline and Fay.
"Okay. When do you plan on becoming a caveman?"
"Tomorrow."
"Where are you going to find a cave?"
"I'll just wander around until I find one or I will dig one myself."
"Alright. We'd better go to the store tomorrow and get you some supplies. A good shovel at least. We should also go to the bookstore and buy you a book on edible plants. You don't want to eat any poisonous berries."
"I don't need a dumb book!"
"You're not worried about becoming a proper hunter-gatherer? Poisonous plants can kill you."
"Quit talking about my demise!!"
Yes, he actually used the word "demise." Forget dive, we were in a tailspin. Time for strategy number three, from Raising an Emotionally Intelligent Child by Gottman, Declaire, and Goleman.
"Well, I would really miss you while you're out there being a caveman. I like having you around. I'll worry about you. I hope you change your mind and decide to stay." I said sweetly.
"I don't even care and I'm going to bed!" Then Dane stomped off to his room and slammed the door.
I've studied all these books and thought I had a few scripts to follow. The problem was my son didn't follow the script. The conversation was supposed to end in laughs and hugs. I got tears and tantrums instead. If I make it through this motherhood business I'm going to write a book that tells the truth: sometimes you can't find the right things to say and it all goes badly.

Epilogue

Dane decided not to become a caveman. Today he woke up, finished his school work, and is currently out playing with friends.

We Are the Proud Owners of a Popcorn Popper...

2010-10-29T12:06:00.013-06:00

One of these days I want to plan a project, or even just a meal, that goes off without a hitch. I decided to make caramel popcorn for a treat to share at the Halloween skating party. Making caramel popcorn quickly spiraled into the frantic disaster that typifies a day in my life.

I call the neighbor and ask to borrow her popcorn popper, an appliance I've admired but hardly seems worth purchasing my own when I will only use it once a year she drops it off on the porch for me then we make our supply list which includes a candy thermometer I used to have one but I lost it “How do you lose a candy thermometer?” I really need one because if you cook the caramel too long it gets hard and nobody likes those hard popcorn balls only the soft gooey kind will do Wal-Mart doesn’t have one so we run to Macey's grocery store surely they will have the candy thermometer and they do which is fantastic and I forgot the list but no problem we remember everything so we purchase all the items and dump them on the kitchen counter and this going to be great because I found a highly rated recipe online but then I put too much popcorn in the popper and it is smoking the smoke alarms are going off we open all the doors and windows and wave a broom around to get the alarms to stop blaring the doorbell rings now the dog is barking hysterically at my friend who is almost 80 years old so that’s embarrassing she’s dropping off the book list for book club and by the way I am supposed to lead the book discussion next month “Okay, great, I gotta go!” because now my hair smells like burned popcorn and I have to get these dumb treats made in the next 20 minutes plus get kids into their costumes in the meantime “Camille why is there no music coming from the piano?” because she is supposed to be practicing I double check the time for the party and good news it starts at 1:30 not 11:00 which means the kids can have lunch before we go I don't want to buy them pizza or hot dogs at the skating place because it's too expensive and I’ll end up spending $40 for lunch for three kids how ridiculous I’m still waving the smoke out but "Quick close the back door!" because the new kitty will get out and we can't let that happen since she got out a few days ago and we couldn't find her which made Dane cry for an hour then she came back thank goodness but "Close that door!" cleaning the black crusty burnt popcorn out of the neighbor's popper but now it won’t turn on I guess I broke it so I have to buy her a new popper but what am I going to make for a treat we're going to make stupid soft gooey caramel corn because for hell’s sake I'm on a mission and we are going to get this right everyone in the car run down to Wal-Mart to buy a new popcorn popper and can you believe it they don't even have a single…one...in...stock. Now what? Hey! There are some gift cards which is perfect because I need a birthday gift for my friend whose birthday was three days ago and I'm terrible at remembering birthdays but I will see her at the Halloween party and don't want to show up empty-handed purchase the iTunes gift card everyone loves those now I run to all the check-out lines trying to find a gift card envelope but there aren't any so maybe I can just tie a ribbon on it or something let’s call Macey's because maybe they have a popcorn popper but they don’t so we head to Target please oh please have a damn popper they have a red one so $20 later I’m heading back home with a new popper on the way I see a friend she has on some amazing Halloween make up that must have taken an hour to apply and here I am feeling lucky my teeth are brushed then I take two phone calls one from a friend who wants to know if I have any brown Halloween make up she can use and I have brown “But is it brown or tan?” for crying out loud "Just brown but maybe you can make it tan if you add some foundation" I take it across the street to her the other call is from my brother who just had open-heart surgery and I'm hoping he's okay he's probably lonely and bored and I wish I could be there to keep him company but I sent a package last week and I'm wondering if he got it “The package arrived” and “No the vegan bread was not moldy” which is a good thing because I was worried about it since we all know that nobody wants to get a package of moldy vegan bread "Hey! It's working!" says Dane so now the neighbor's popcorn popper is back on I guess the motor just needed to cool down it’s time to get costumes on while at the same time we make caramel popcorn “Camille, your leotard is in your room you have to put that on before you put on leggings,” and “Libby take off those pants you have to wear shorts under your costume or you’ll get too hot!” then “I don't know where your leotard is if it is not in your room check the bathroom!” just burned my finger on caramel while dumping it on popcorn guess I am having caramel popcorn for lunch because I don't have time to make myself something oh well this Muscle Milk will wash it down “Dane I really wish you would be a scarecrow instead of this creepy killer” and “No you can’t take the bloody knife prop to the skating place” and “Get in the car it's time to go!”

We’re keeping the new popcorn popper. Guess what treat I’m bringing to Thanksgiving dinner and your Christmas party?

Tour de Wittusen...

2010-04-30T08:44:00.011-06:00

Now that school is out I can admit I've been yelling at my kids for two years...

"Get in the car now! It's time for school! You're going to be late! Whoever is not in the car in one minute is going to be left behind! You two are going to have to walk if you don't come right now!"

One day last Spring I finally meant it. I had already asked Camille six times to put shoes on while Dane was making a to-do list of activities he wanted to do after school instead of eating his breakfast. So, I told them I was getting in the car and whoever was with me got a ride to school. If not, then they could walk. A minute later the only kid in the car was Libby! As I was backing out of the garage I yelled to the kids in the house that they "Better start walking!" I picked up the neighbor kid we carpool with, then drove by my house to see if Dane and Camille had left yet. There they were, dejectedly staring out the front window as I drove by; I smiled and waved and kept driving. After carpool duty I wanted to check their progress so I followed the route they would walk. It's a full two miles to school, so this was going to be a long morning. Much to my surprise, they were about half of a mile from home riding their bikes! They even had helmets on! Well, Camille had her bike helmet on; Dane was wearing his ski helmet.

The worrying mom in me took over and I drove ahead of them all the way to the school. I parked the van on the side of the road and waited until I could see them in my rearview mirror then drove a few blocks and waited until I could see them again. I wanted to stay just enough ahead so that neither one of them could decide to quit and ask me to put the bike in the car (two miles can be a long way on heavy, big-tired kid bike with no gearing).

Down at the school I waited for them at the bike rack. They came zooming around the corner all smiles and giggles. Dane was shouting "Woo-hoo!!" and Camille yelled "Mom!! We totally want to do this again tomorrow!"

This was too much fun, my plan had backfired...

That afternoon it was raining. I drove down to the school thinking I would put the bikes in the van and drive them home. Halfway there I realized that riding in the rain was part of the lesson: if you don't get in the car in time for school you have to ride your bike and I'm not going to rescue you.

When I got to the school I discovered the cycling duo (picture them like Cavendish and his lead-out man Mark Renshaw) in the office using the phone. "Mom! We were just calling you!"
"What for?"
"It's raining...so we need you to pick us up."
"Nope. A little water never hurt anyone. Time to saddle up and ride home!"

By the time they took off the rain had turned to drizzle. I stayed ahead of them the whole way and watched as they raced each other, tried to ride with no hands, and talked. At one point I saw Camille cross the white line of the bike lane and into the car lane. Good thing there were no cars! Then I witnessed a miracle...Dane stopped Camille and made her trade places with him so he was riding closer to the cars. I couldn't believe it. Just this morning they were fighting over toothpaste and now he was actually protecting her!

My plan had backfired alright. I wanted them to experience a little more misery to inspire the motivation to be ready on time. I wanted them to suffer through riding in the rain and never want to incur my wrath again. Since this first experience they've ridden together by choice several more times. Camille once crashed and Dane picked her up, brushed her off, and gave her a hug. He helped her cross the street while she cracked jokes and they both laughed. They have waited for each other and stuck together. Instead of suffering they have protected each other, had fun, and grown closer. This wasn't the lesson I intended, but I guess it's a better one.

90 Minutes of My Life I Wish I Could Get Back...

2010-04-05T20:26:00.006-06:00

Sometimes when it's dark I flop into bed with my body ready for sleep but my mind blaringly awake. So without warning I start obsessing over things I wouldn't even consider in the daylight. Such was the circumstance last night, where I was tossing and turning for hours begging myself to please fall asleep. Then, like a miracle, I felt the sleep coming. Just when I thought my race-car mind was going to circle the track all night, I noticed it was getting quiet. The pursuit was over, the crowds had gone home. My limbs were heavy and the blankets were so warm...

BBBRRRING!!! The phone rang at 1 am. It was my Mom. At first I didn't answer because I thought she must have dialed my number by mistake. Then I realized most people don't accidentally call at such an ungodly hour and I started worrying about who might be dead or in jail. So I called her back. Turns out she just wanted to chit chat and "misread" the time on her clock. Eesh. Then I was all worked up about the death and jail stuff so sleep wouldn't be my friend any time soon. I decided to get up and take an ambien. Just so you know, I'm not a junkie. I've had this prescription for 10 months now and still have over half of the bottle left, which includes sharing with my husband. Obviously I rarely use it or I would have known better...

The next thing I know it's 10:30 in the morning and Dane is leaning over me whispering in a anxious voice, "Mom, are you going to get up? We've been watching TV downstairs for a lo-ong time and we're hungry." I wish I could say the realization of neglected children jolted me right out of bed. Unfortunately in the strangeness of dreams I was still bowling with one of the contestants of American Idol. As I slowly surfaced out of sleep, I murmured a quick thank-you prayer for Spring Break. I mean, had it not been for the day off I probably would have been forced to concoct a good lie and brainwash my kids on the way to school, "Don't tell your teacher you are late because Mom took some medicine and couldn't get out of bed, Okay? Er, uh, dentist! Repeat after me, I had to go to the dentist!" In my prayer I was also thankful for the Easter candy (that a mere 24 hours earlier I threatened to throw away) must have kept them content while I "slept it off."

After brunch I decided to make it up to my kids by taking them to a dollar movie. I was aware that they already had enough vegetation-in-front-of-a-screen time today but the weather was bad so our options were limited. We decided to see The Spy Next Door. My tolerance for this kind of family movie is very low, but I thought a little over an hour with Jackie Chan might not be so bad. Well, that show was sold out. There we stood outside the box office in what felt like 20 below, the kids' pouty faces staring at me with that Mom-you-gotta-pull-through-for-us look and I panicked and bought 4 tickets to Alvin and the Chipmunks, the Squeakquel. This movie was worse than you can imagine. By the halfway-mark I was thinking I would rather have a Russian mobster yank my fingernails out with a pair of pliers than sit through one more minute. Or that maybe, just maybe, the janitorial staff needed a little help scrubbing the theater's toilets and my kids wouldn't mind finishing this show by themselves. Sadly, after all that ambien-induced sleep I couldn't even take a little cat nap.

So there you go, that's 90 whole minutes of my life I'll never get back. It would have been much better spent playing a game or simply renting a better movie. I'm sure you're wondering how I can look myself in the mirror when I've considered only my own misery and not how much my children must have enjoyed going to a movie. Well, don't lose any sleep over it. I'm sure I'll be obsessing about that fact myself (and how I almost sold my soul to the devil to get out of that movie and all the trouble that would have caused) into the wee hours of the morning.

Lazy Saturday Morning...

2010-03-20T09:36:00.012-06:00

Today outside my window...
The sun is shining, but I'm not buying it. I know it's cold out there even if it looks warm.

I'm thinking about...
When I'm going to fit in a run and who I'm going to call to babysit Libby while I run. And I'm a little frustrated at myself for being too lazy to get up and run before Brad left this morning. And I'm wondering if I should ask the same babysitter to come again tonight when we go to a client's party. And I need a haircut.

I am thankful for...
The sunshine, even though it's cold. Legs that work. A husband who is a fantastic father.

From the kitchen...
Smells clean. Check that off my list, for now.

I am wearing...
My favorite tech-fabric running sweatshirt/jacket. I bought it for cold-weather running and I wear it even when I'm not running. I need to buy a few more in different colors. I'm also wearing my favorite slippers. They have a little bit of tread on the bottom, warm and furry on the inside, and soft leather on the outside with an embroidered flower. I love them, but they are a bit embarrassing when your kid leaves his lunch in the car and you have to run into the school.

I am reading...
Fablehaven by Brandon Mull. I just finished Pope Joan for book club and it was awful. Kinda strange when you get a better book recommendation from your eight-year-old than your book club.

I am looking forward to...
A nap

I am hearing...
The neighbor's dog howl. You would think this sound is irritating, but he does it so softly and politely. Like someone lightly tapping you on the shoulder, "Excuse me, ma'am..."

A few plans for the rest of the week...
Same as last week. Finish hanging pictures downstairs and paint the bathroom cabinet.

I need to remember...
To call my sister.

A picture to share...
Tave. My Grandma (although she preferred to be called Nonnie instead of Grandma). I never met her but my Mom has told me so many great stories about her that I love her anyway.

Dane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

2010-03-09T18:28:00.008-07:00

Dane came to the dinner table with a pouty face, wet eyelashes, and red eyes. Obviously he was having a rough evening. When I asked him what was wrong he replied in a teary voice, "It's raining outside, my quesadilla is burned, I don't have any friends, and everyone is acting like idiots!"

We were able to cheer him up by quoting Judith Viorst's book, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, which is one of my favorite children's books. If you haven't added this book to your collection or read it to your kids, please do so. Not only is it cute and funny, it actually might help them laugh when they are having one of those days.

Anyway, while blogging I thought about this picture. Dane is a baby and got his very first owie that warranted a band-aid. I hope as my kids grow older God gives me the wisdom to know what to say when a band-aid just won't do.

A Little Dose of Reality From a First-Grader

2010-03-03T13:04:00.018-07:00

The kids bring home some pretty fabulous artwork from school. This original masterpiece of Camille's will be one of my all-time favorites. I think the topic, "This is how I'll look when I'm 100 years old" is a strange one to pose to first graders, don't you? My favorite things about the picture:

The headstone got cut off a bit but it reads, "Camille R.I.P."
Just in case the x mark over the eyes didn't clue you in, her caption says, "I'm dead."
She's clutching her heart as if she just dropped dead of heart-attack two seconds ago. Those undertakers don't waste any time!
Camille told me the red squiggly lines are worms. They look kinda hungry (and creepy).
She might be dead, but no worries! The sun is shining and skies are blue...it's a beautiful day!

Clorox Clean

2010-02-18T19:55:00.006-07:00

I love the smell of bleach. However, based on my experience you would think I would pick Pine-Sol instead.

First, there was the time when it smelled so strong it was making my eyes burn. That's because Dane dumped some down the vent in his room. He was about three. I don't know how he got the bottle open or what inspired him to pour it out in his room. I just remember being so proud of myself for scrubbing the toilet and getting a load of whites done by 9 am, except then I realized I hadn't done either of those things. I don't know how much he dumped out but it was enough to make us have to open all the doors and windows and get out of the house for awhile. Somehow he managed to avoid spilling any on himself or the carpet.

Another memorable encounter with bleach occurred when I was a teenager. Back when I used to fight with my mother every day. I was a sassy, smart-mouthed girl. Hard to believe, I know. One day as my mom was scrubbing the floor with some bleach-containing cleaner I must have thought she looked vulnerable down there on her hands and knees (she never uses a mop). Perfect time to bring up some offense of the typical teenage variety, peppered with my particular brand of back-talk. Well, forget cleaning my mouth out with soap she just turned around and squirted the bleach right at me. Fortunately I was a few feet away from her and she's a terrible shot. I screamed, "That's great! Now you're trying to blind me!!" then ran to my room and slammed the door. I pray every day that my daughters are nicer to me than I was to my mom. It's a miracle she still speaks to me.

I thought of all this bleach business as I was doing some cleaning today. Just like my mom, I like to clean with bleach. I guess it's nostalgic...and it smells nice.

Abduction Issues: A Play in Three Acts

2010-02-04T17:25:00.015-07:00

I recently enrolled Camille in an acting class at a nearby theater. Have you met Camille? She is always acting. I thought this would be perfect. However, as the weeks have gone on, I've been wondering what she is actually doing in class that relates to acting. She consistently reports they watch Peter Pan, play tag, and tell jokes. I'm thinking if this is the curriculum for an acting class then why am I not charging $25 per month for every kid that comes in my house? I decided to attend the class myself to check things out. When the instructor arrived looking suspiciously young and pimply he informed that parents are never allowed to observe. "Why?" I asked. He responded (you're gonna love this), "Because we've had abduction issues." Call me crazy, but that sounds like a very good reason for me to stay and watch. Maybe even bring a concealed weapon. I'm going to do my best to recreate the conversation I had with the young instructor, his higher-up (she was also hormonally challenged) and her higher-up.

Act I: Confusion in the basement of the Theater
Teenager: Yes, parents are not allowed to observe. That is our rule because, like, we've totally had problems.
Mother: Problems with who?
Teenager: Like, well, we have, like, foster kids in the class.
Mother: [with furrowed, concerned brow] So, the foster kids cause problems?
Teenager: No, we don't have any now, but there have been, like, problems so, like, parents are never allowed to observe. Do you want to talk to the Director about it?
Mother: That would be great.
Mother exits stage left

Act II: I'm definitely not the Director OR a lawyer but I hope to play one on tv
Note, Not-The-Director-Teenager is abbreviated NTDT.
NTDT: [perky] Hi!
Mother: Hello.
NTDT: The Director is in a meeting right now. Is there, like, something I can do?
Mother: Yes, I just found out that it is against your policy to allow parents in the class?
NTDT: Yes, that's, like, because there's these laws that have been put in place, like, some laws about foster kids and stuff so, like, we have these laws that you can't observe the class.
Mother: I'm not really aware of any laws that say parents can't observe their kids in a class. I pay for the class, so I want to see it.
NTDT: Well, the CEO has, like, these laws, so it's the CEO's laws for the classes here.
Mother: Okay, is the CEO available?
NTDT: [still perky] Oh he has, like, meetings all day. All the time.
Mother: [developing nervous tic] Is he in a meeting right now?
NTDT: I can go check!
Mother: That would be great.
NDTD exits stage left then suspiciously promptly returns
NDTD: He's not available right now. Would you like to talk to the Director?
Mother: Sure!
Mother follows NDTD both exit stage right

Act III: Things a Director shouldn't tell parents of children in the acting program
Director: [frazzled] Hi!
Mother: Hello. I was just here for my daughter's class and I've been informed parents are not allowed to observe.
Director: [apologetically] Yes, that's because, well, you're not gonna believe this. It's like something out of a movie. A while back we had a student in class whose father was in prison in California. He hired a private investigator to come to the class and film it for the father so he could see the kid. The guy just kept showing up to the class and said he was the student's uncle. So, since the instructors don't know who the parents are, we just have to say no one is allowed in class.
Mother: Wow. Okay, thanks.
Mother exits stage right, Director exits stage left.

The final act to this play is almost complete. My formal letter of complaint is written. I have to deliver it to the theater and get my money back. I'm sure you understand that my complaint is not that the "Uncle" showed up to class. It's that my three-year-old is smart enough to make the distinction between a random stranger and a parent so I would hope teachers and CEOs could, too. Because of the idiocy of the staff, I apparently have no hope of observing the class and getting my concerns about curriculum resolved. I suppose I'm also bugged because I'm a mother and, HELLO! What mother would actually find a "no parents allowed" policy acceptable? Seriously. Camille is already enrolled in another acting class somewhere else. Hopefully there won't be an Uncle Creepy standing in for the incarcerated dad, troublesome foster kids, or law-making CEOs to keep me from watching Camille do a stirring rendition of something, like, fabulous.

Selling Crack

2010-01-22T08:47:00.005-07:00

Dane's Spanish teacher approached me a few weeks ago to suggest that he start wearing a belt to school. I almost laughed out loud. Obviously she doesn't know that she's lucky if Dane is wearing socks and underwear which have been changed in the last 48 hours. Of all the things to be worried about as the four of us are trying to get out the door at 7:42am with the last scraps of breakfast toast in our hands, a belt is not high on the list. Can you imagine me yelling, "Do you have your coat? Homework? Backpack? I don't care if you don't like burritos, it's too late to pack a lunch! Library book? You didn't brush your hair! Spanish books? Gloves? Hat? We'll talk about that after school! Dane, are you wearing a belt?" Ya, right.

She explained that when he sits on the floor his butt-crack is showing and that she is worried about the other kids making fun of him. I just nodded my head and said, "Okay. I'll let him know" and walked away rolling my eyes. Don't get me wrong, I don't want my kid to be the laughing stock of the school or picked on by bullies. However, I think some problems take care of themselves without parental involvement and this type of concern is exactly why we are raising a nation of wimpy, indecisive, and helpless people.

The interaction with Dane's teacher reminds me of an "incident" we had a few years ago. We live in an awesome neighborhood that has frequent gatherings and parties. At the end of every school year we all pitch in to rent a bouncy-slide with a hose so the kids have fun all day getting wet and eating snow-cones. Another mom approached me to explain that Dane had just mooned some other neighborhood kids. I was mortified. I quickly found Dane and asked what was going on. He explained that the kids were making fun of him in his swim suit, since his bum crack was showing. I have to interject here and explain that try as I might, this is just something Dane struggles with. It's a simple fact of his body type; long torso, short legs, toddler belly, Wittusen genes. I'm constantly telling him to pull up his pants but within moments they are slipping back down. Anyway, Dane was tired of the kids making fun, so he just pulled down his swim trunks and showed them the "full moon." At first I was upset, but over time I came to realize that this wasn't such a terrible solution to the problem. I mean, he didn't punch anyone, get angry, or come whining and crying to me, all of which may have resulted in him missing out on the fun. By giving the kids a good look at his bum, there was no more reason to make fun of the little peeking crack, right? Everyone carried on, business as usual.

I can appreciate the teacher's concern for Dane. She's just trying to be kind and considerate of his feelings. But I also appreciate a bit of well-timed peer pressure. I'm pretty sure it's the reason why Dane finally stopped sucking his thumb. Someone else must have said something to him that made him want to quit, because nothing I said worked. I suppose if a peer at school told him his bum-crack was showing and Dane was embarrassed, he would find a solution. I've given him the tools; there were two new belts in his stocking for Christmas. I think sometimes you just have to let kids suffer a little embarrassment (just a little) in order to become adults who can manage the crevasses of life.

The Birds and the Bees

2010-01-14T11:05:00.006-07:00

I'm getting lots of questions from my kids lately. I thought I was prepared but they spring it on me when I'm least expecting it. Driving home from school the other day Dane asked me, "Mom, what does 'make-out' mean?"
"It means kissing a lot," I replied.
"Can you only do it when you're married?" Thinking about my teenage and college years I STILL decide to answer...
"Yes, only when you are married."
"Then you and Dad must make-out a lot." I promise we keep it clean in front of the kids...
"Well, it's okay because we are married."
I know I mentioned before my belief that parents should tell kids the truth when they ask these types of questions. Now I'm doubting that belief. I'm finding out that this practice usually just leads to more questions.
"Do all animals make eggs?" Camille asked.
"No." I replied.
"Do we make eggs?" Relentless!!
"Yes, human girls make eggs." Please let this be the end. Doorbell, telephone, fire alarm. Please!
"What do human boys make?"
With a gulp I respond, "Sperm."
For a moment a scene from a movie flashed across my mind where this little boy's dad has died so his mom takes him to the doctor to learn about the birds and the bees. Except the doctor has this thick British accent and so in the next scene the boy is telling all his friends it's called "Spam."
I've heard that age 8 is a good age to explain to kids where babies come from. I'm just not sure where to begin. Drawings? Too graphic. Hand gestures? Inappropriate. Even blogging about this is making me squirm. It's not that I'm totally uncomfortable talking to my kids about it, I just want to be ready for any questions or dialogue. I've had some book recommendations from a friend, so I think I'll look into that. If you have any other ideas feel free to post them here!

Soap In My Mouth...Part Deux

2009-11-12T11:46:00.007-07:00

I was hanging out with my son in the kitchen the other day while he so sweetly and obediently loaded the dishwasher. He turned to me with his cute round face and baby blue eyes and innocently asked, "Mom, is f**k a bad word?" I almost hit the floor but managed to stay on my feet and pick my jaw up instead. One of my goals as a parent is to try to maintain an environment where my kids can come to me with questions. I suppose in setting this goal I didn't really consider all the possibilities. I was thinking more along the lines of, "Where do babies come from?"

You will be proud of me for two reasons. First, I never use this word. Seriously. My swears have their origins in the Bible (that's my story and I'm sticking to it) so the f-bomb is not part of my vocabulary. Second, I didn't over-react. I explained to Dane that on the scale of swear words this one is the worst and he shouldn't say it. This led to a discussion about taking the Lord's name in vain, which he argued is the greater crime since it's actually a commandment in the Bible. Good point, but I clarified that while not everyone thinks the Ten Commandments are important, everyone knows the f-word is a serious vernacular violation.

I know you're wondering when I'm going to get to the part about asking him where he heard it. "It was...Schwartz!" Just kidding (name that movie). Well I did ask and he rolled and I wasn't totally surprised at the answer. Honestly, I don't think it matters much where he heard it (except that his play-time with that kid will be limited). I mean, our kids are going to hear and see all kinds of things and what they need to know is how to process and ultimately avoid the bad stuff. I can only hope our discussion enhanced his view of language. Even though I don't like hearing my 8-year-old drop the f-bomb, I look forward to more questions.

Funny, I just re-read this post and it made me think about my own hypocrisy. It seems like what I have taught is that a little bit of swearing is okay, as long as you don't say that word. This is not how I explained it to Dane, but it's certainly what I've taught by example. Hmmm.

On Why I Don't Have Nice Things...

2009-11-10T11:53:00.032-07:00

Something happened this morning that inspired me to explain why I don't have nice stuff in my house. We'll get to that point of inspiration in a moment, but first a tour...

The Sharpie-colored chair in my living room

Green paint on the carpet

And some red paint (mixed with lead from pencil shavings dumped from a pencil sharpener)

Smashed-up wall in the playroom. Alright, I admit this "oopsie" is kinda my fault. I thought those swing chairs from Ikea were so cool, and so did the kids (even the neighbor kid who went home and puked after a bit too much spinning). If you buy the swing just don't be an idiot and hang it too close to the wall.

Melted crayon on a desk lamp which looks like the experiment of a certain 8-year-old

Dry-erase marker on the wall in the guest room. The worst part about this graffiti is that it isn't even the work of my own kids.

Descriptive label, in case you were wondering to whom the book shelf belongs. It says, "Poprde of Dane." Cut the kid some slack, he was only four and just learning to spell. OKAY?! Geez.

Now for the inspiration that set this blog in motion...my watch in a vat of hot wax.

I'm always impressed when moms of young children can keep their houses so clean and tidy. Even more impressed when their kids don't break everything they own. Are my kids just destructive? I know what you're thinking, but this demolition is really not due to a lack of supervision. Most of the defacement and damage occurred in slow-motion like a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street with me running and screaming, "NNNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!!" The perpetrator responsible for the watch is taking a nap, which is the safest thing I could think to do right after she pointed to her work and said, "Look, Mommy!"

Soap In My Mouth...

2009-11-06T10:04:00.007-07:00

I know I have a little "Quote of the Week" section here, but I had to post these separately since the kiddos have been simultaneously cracking me up and making me cringe all week.
A conversation with Dane:
"Damn it, Dane!!" yelled Libby
"That's your fault, Mom," Dane replied.
"What's my fault?"
"The swearing."
"I know." (picture my eye roll)
"I think we need to do something about this," Dane advised.
"Dane, people have strengths and weaknesses. One of my weaknesses is swearing. I'm really trying to do better."
"I couldn't tell."

I took Libby to the Lehi pool for a little mommy-daughter fun time this week. We were in the locker room with about 50 teenage girls (shouldn't they have been at school??). I wasn't listening to their chatter very closely but apparently Libby was. When we walked out to the pool she turned to me and in her best teen-impersonating voice said, "Mom, I'm like...totally freaking out right now." Now that I think about it, this makes sense. She obviously listens to conversations...hence the swearing problem.

Camille told me over breakfast this morning that she "is going to obey all the time now."
"What brought about this decision?" I asked.
"Cause it seems to make you pretty mad when I don't. So I just think it would be better to do what you say."
"Sounds like a plan."
This conversation actually made me a little sad. I've been hoping that my kids would learn to make good decisions because it's the right thing to do, not because they are afraid of me. Well, I guess it's not that bad. You have to start somewhere, right?

Camille's revelation reminds me of something Dane said to me a few weeks ago. I can't even remember what he wasn't doing that I had asked him to do. All I remember is yelling, "Dane! I just want you to do what you're told!!" To which he wittily replied, "And is that how you get kids to what you want...by yelling at them?" Dane = 2, Mom = 0.

The most important thing my mom taught me...

2009-10-08T11:22:00.002-06:00

"...is not to punch my friends in the nuts." You can imagine my horror when I read this statement in my son's writing journal at school tonight. We had SEPs (Student-Educator-Parent conferences) and Dane's teacher opened his journal to a random entry. Now that I think about it, maybe it wasn't so random. Maybe she wanted me to know that if by some tragic accident I go to my grave tomorrow this lesson will be the coup de grâce of all motherly lectures my son will remember for a lifetime. Good grief. I hope she understands that this kind of open-ended question directed to openly-opinionated kids is risky. I learned that I need to attend these conferences with a prepared list of excuses, "His father's family..." or "The babysitter let him watch..." or "Those neighbor kids have such filthy mouths!" Just for the record I have never referred to THOSE body parts using THAT word in front of my kids. I've always been a firm believer in teaching kids the correct names for all body parts, both boys and girls. This idea only backfired once when three-year-old Camille announced to a random stranger that she had a "vagenis." Despite that slip-up, I still think kids should have the correct information from parents since they will probably learn the slang terminology no matter what you do. Dane's journal entry proves this point. I have no idea where he learned that. Seriously.

Camille's teacher informed me that Camille wanted to move to a new spot in the classroom this week. A boy she sits next to was invading her space and in private she told the teacher, "He's also NOT so great to look at." Sounds like a reasonable explanation to me. I mean, who can get all that coloring done with a kid that doesn't tie his shoes and who never combs his hair staring you in the face? Gracefully, the teacher asked her to keep that little tidbit to herself and allowed her to move her desk.

I'm lucky my kids have such great teachers this year who handle things so appropriately. Their diplomacy mitigates my embarrassment at these conferences. I think my kids need a lesson on the golden rule. Dane needs it because he should have a better topic for "the most important thing my mother ever taught me" and Camille needs it because she will have to deal with many "not so great to look at people" in her life. Ahhh... the joys of parenting.

It's my kids' party and I'll cry if I want to...

2009-07-09T14:02:00.015-06:00

I won't even start this blog with an explanation of why I haven't been blogging. Sorry.

I don't know what has come over me the last few days. I have been a blubbering mess. It all started with Libby's birthday on the fourth. My sis-in-law said to me, "So, you're baby is 3 now!" and I immediately started crying. What?! She's out of diapers, very sassy, sleeping in a big-girl bed, almost ready to give up naps, and totally hilarious. She also still wants to "hold you" and every time I return from being gone she tells me, "Mom, I missed you! I was so worried about you!" Don't worry. I'm not sending Brad to have his little snip-snip unsnipped. But the reality of how limited my time is with her at this stage just kills me. Dang! I'm crying again!!

Today is Dane's birthday. I don't know what it is about this age, but I just adore him. Okay, so he has his super-obnoxious moments. But he's also so observant, sweet, loving, and really funny. I can't believe he is already 8. So cliche, but I seriously remember the very moment they put him in my arms as a newborn like it just happened. And of course I've forgotten all the pain that got me to that moment (hence the 2 more kids). What have I been doing for 8 YEARS? It's gone by in a flash. It's so crazy to listen to him talk sometimes and realize he has his own little life that mostly has nothing to do with me. Again with the crying!

I had this brilliant idea to make Dane a Lego cake for his birthday. Like most of my ideas, it was really only brilliant in my head. I made a regular cake. When I turned it out of the pan parts of the middle stuck to the pan. I had to scrape out chunks of cake and just smash it back into the holes. Then I had to flip the cake over to cut off the uneven top, at which point it broke. I cut it in half so that it had the right shape, but this left the middle exposed which was nothing but smushed up cake chunks. The connector parts of the Lego are just cupcakes turned upside-down. I baked them a few days ago and cut the tops off so they would sit flat on the cake. I think I have single-handedly eaten every cupcake top which I'm figuring adds up to about 6 pieces of cake. Now I'm crying about that, too. Assembling the whole thing was ridiculous and I just kept thinking about how much time I would need to run to the store and buy one instead. It turned out okay, but I guess I was picturing it looking much nicer. Much to my surprise I overheard Dane's friends saying, "Wow! That's a cool cake!" and "Hey! It looks just like a Star Wars Lego!" But the icing on the cake was hearing Dane reply, "Yeah, my mom makes the best cakes EVER!"

Camp out

2009-05-28T13:11:00.003-06:00

Tell me he isn't an awesome Dad. Yes, that's our back yard.

Ibuprofen, Please

2009-04-22T11:14:00.008-06:00

Yesterday I had my first high-speed crash on the bike. In my four years of riding I've fallen down plenty of times, but this was my first moving crash.

I was descending through a neighborhood in Orem, going about 25 mph. I came to a sort of long blind corner. As I started to turn I realized it was sharper than I thought and the road was a bit gravelly. The bike started to slide. Normally I would just slow down and turn a bit wider to keep from falling, but unfortunately there was a big BULLDOZER parked on the side of the road. It was taking up all the road space I needed. Once my brain registered the bulldozer I instantly knew I was going down. In 1 second I had to make a choice...

A)Lay the bike down in the gravelly road.
B)Smash into the bulldozer at 25mph.
C)Aim for the sidewalk and hope for the best.

If you've ever had your bare skin skid along gravel you know that A is not a great option. As for B, I'm sure most of you know that even a low-speed fender bender can do quite a bit of damage. Colliding with a piece of construction equipment in a car would be bad. Can you imagine on a bike? So, I chose option C.

I don't remember much after that. I know I hit the sidewalk...with my head...hard. I have no idea how the rest of my body came down, or how my bike landed 5 feet away from me in someone's yard.

When the light came back my first thought was "OH NO!! MY BIKE!! Please don't let anything be broken on my bike!!" I crawled over to it and checked it out. Besides the right shifter being pretty dinged up and crammed full of grass she looked okay. I really don't remember but I must have flipped or skidded into the grass and I'm assuming my bike did the same.

I guess I wasn't thinking clearly (shock? concussion?) because it was then I decided to ride home, even though I had my cell phone and could have called Brad to come and get me. About 3/4 of the way home I got a bit shaky and started to realize I was really hurt. Every tiny bump in the road was agony to my head. It still didn't fully register until I walked in the house. Brad looked and me and said, "Oh! You're back early!" Then I started to cry. I couldn't even bend over to take off my own shoes. I went into the bathroom to inspect my injuries. My right butt cheek was skinless, I had road rash on my right thigh, my right knee was cut up, my right hip and tail bones were pretty bruised. The worst part was my head. I showered and then Brad had to bandage up my behind. Fantastic.

I'm very sore today and I have a slight headache. This morning I discovered a 4-inch bruise on my left hip, so I must have hit my handlebars or something on the way down. I drove by the scene of the accident and sure enough there were cones AND barricades set up and men working on the road. That explains the gravel and the bulldozer. I'm mad there were no cones on the blind corner to warn me of the danger last night! I think I'll take a picture of my butt and tape it to the bulldozer, or send it to the city office.

If I've learned anything from this experience it's thank goodness for helmets. If you're not familiar with modern bike helmets, well, they are super strong. It takes a serious amount of force to actually break the hard interior. Mine is broken in three places. Below is a picture and I tried to mark where it's busted. I always wear it and I'm so grateful my brains are still inside my skull. I'm convinced it saved my life!

V is for Vacation...

2009-04-03T08:44:00.006-06:00

Every Spring we plan a trip to a warm place. Usually it's to my parents' house in AZ. This time we are going to San Diego. We thought it would be fun to take the kids to Legoland before they are too old for it. Now that it has snowed three times this week we are feeling a bit antsy about getting some sun. Antsy is really an understatement. Get me out of here!! is more like it.

I was explaining to the kids that we will be leaving on a Saturday and spending the night in Vegas on our way. Brad and I actually hate Vegas, except for the food. If we get within 100 miles of that place Brad has to find a way for us to have brunch at one of the big hotels. Of course, if you are within 100 miles of Vegas there is actually no place else to eat anyway.

When Dane heard we were going to be in Nevada he asked if we could go to Groom Lake. I'm thinking it's a real lake where we could hang out in the sand and water, or maybe like Lake Mead where you can go cliff jumping. Noooo...he explained that Groom Lake is actually a dried up lake and what he really wants to see is Area 51 just south of the lake. AREA 51?? I was cracking up on the inside but didn't laugh out loud. Seriously, leave it to Dane to ask to go to Area 51. As I probed him further (no pun intended?) he told me what he has learned about the secret military installation, UFO sightings, etc. (thanks to National Geographic Kids Magazine). He punctuated his explanation with the question, "Are UFOs real, Mom?"

At first I thought that at his age I had never even heard of UFOs. Then I had a flashback to a television scene. If you are my age or older you'll remember this one because it was 1984-85 and we were all watching "V". The birth scene scared the crap out of the 9-year-old me. Can't believe my parents let me watch this show!! I found the clip on youtube, so enjoy. Trust me, you'll laugh now.

Ole!!

2009-03-27T12:48:00.005-06:00

Add this item to my list of things I will never do again: volunteer to help with Spanish Dance Festival. I had to take Tylenol (washed down with chocolate) three times last week, and I never get headaches. I organized 115 costumes for about 90 kids, recruited a dozen moms to help me dress these kids and then kept them still while they waited to perform, then collected all the costumes. Now I have to wash all of them and do repairs to be ready for next year. I'm telling you this was 100 times crazier than it sounds. Truth be told I will probably help again next year, I just want to think that I won't for a few weeks.

I have to tell you this little snippet...I was in the empty classroom we were using to dress about 40 rowdy boys in various Mexican-style outfits. They are old enough to manage their own shoes, so I thought it was strange when another volunteer called me over to help. A boy had his socks on and a shoe on his right foot but his left foot was sticking out of the back of his shoe. I crammed and I jammed but that foot wouldn't budge. It seemed like the shoe was just too small. During the process I was saying, "Are you sure these are your shoes?" "This just doesn't seem right!" "Did you bring another pair?" Finally we got the foot in and I asked, "Does that hurt? Is it too tight?" To which he replied, "NO!! It's a prosthetic!" and then showed me his fake leg/foot. How was I supposed to know a 3rd grader had a plastic foot that wouldn't fit in his shoe?! I have no idea how or why he has a prosthetic, but it's some information I could have used before I practically crushed him just to get his shoe on.

Overall everything went well. I have to get the video of Dane's dance switched to digital so I can publish it here. Like the Teddy Roosevelt day he was none to thrilled about dressing up. It was adorable to watch the kids dance. I was amazed at how well they did! Video coming soon...

Swimming in Circles...

2009-03-18T20:19:00.008-06:00

I went swimming at Gold's this morning. This is what happened.

There are three lanes in the 25 meter pool. Almost every morning a cranky old lady asks the swimmers to move out of "her" lane. I think she's cranky because she is in the pool with her hair and make up done (at 5:30 AM!) and she makes ugly faces at the swimmers when they inadvertently splash her. I actually feel sad for her. She seems to have pretty severe osteoporosis and it's obvious that the pool is the best place for her to get some exercise. I, too, would be cranky if I had to use a walker to get around. It's just a little frustrating when she has a lane to herself and six or seven swimmers have to share the other two lanes.

Lap pool etiquette dictates a few rules in the event you have to share a lane:
1. Ask the person already in the lane if you can join them.
2. Ask if they want to take a side of the lane or swim circles. The lanes are wide enough so that each swimmer can use half the lane. Alternatively, you can both swim up one side and down the other (circles--okay, ovals). Circle swimming works best with people going about the same pace.

Some days I like circle swimming. I'm competitive enough that this type of lane sharing forces me to keep up the pace so I don't get lapped. I also take fewer breaks. Other days I hate it because I don't want to be concerned with the location of another swimmer.

This morning cranky lady kicked two swimmers out of her lane into mine. There were already two swimmers sharing the third lane. No biggie, the three of us agreed to swim circles. So, I swam circles for about 25 minutes. Then a person in the next lane got out of the pool and left. I moved over to the lane that only had one swimmer and asked if I could share. She agreed. This is a woman I see at the pool almost every time I swim. I've shared lanes with her before. She was using the half-lane rule with the previous swimmer, so I assumed she just wanted to keep going.

Keep in mind that swimming is all about rhythm and I really have to concentrate to find it. Some days my swimming is so terrible I wish I had stayed in bed. Other days it is so great I think "Move over, Michael Phelps!" Just kidding it's never that good. I'm actually a less-than-average swimmer so a good day in the pool is fantastic for me. So this morning things were going well and I was getting that I-could-do-this-forever-feeling when KLONK!!! Yeah, I smashed heads with the other swimmer in my lane. Somewhere in my Michael moment I had forgotten that we were staying on our own side in the lane and I started swimming circles. If I've made this story too confusing I'm sorry. Just know that I was an idiot and tried to buck another swimmer out of the pool with my noggin. And I'm not talking about a little bump here, people, I'm talking about seeing stars. I apologized about 100 times. I do really stupid things all the time, but this is a classic.

On to my dilemma. I didn't lock horns with someone I will never see again. This lady is there like, every day. I figure I have two options:
1. Start swimming at another gym. It would take an extra few minutes every morning in travel time, but could save my dignity.
2. Get new swimming gear. You see, I wouldn't recognize any of the people I swim with if I saw them on the street. Everyone pretty much wears the same lap suit, goggles, and swim cap but faces and bodies are a bit distorted. So if I get all new gear she probably won't even recognize me. There is some cost in this option but it could be worth it. I mean, can you put a price on self-respect?

Ms. Lu-Lu

2009-03-12T12:32:00.005-06:00

Everyone thinks their kids are funny/cute/smart. I do, too. Here's some footage of Lib to prove it. I guess you'll want to pause the music at the bottom of this page so you can hear her better.

Not a Wocket in my Pocket...

2009-03-04T23:22:00.011-07:00

My apologies for being a bad blogger. Have you already removed me from your "blogs I follow" list? I'm back baby!!

Things I found in my pocket today. . .
First let me say these were actually things I put in my pocket yesterday. I wore the exact same clothes two days in a row (clean underwear though)! I wasn't wearing them all day, and I didn't get that dirty, so why wash? Next, I'm a compulsive vacuumer. Okay not compulsive. It's just the only chore I like. Idea...I'll come vacuum your house and you come dust mine! So as I'm vacuuming I pick up little things off the floor and put them in my pocket. I should carry around a little basket or something because I use my pocket, then they make their way into the laundry where I listen to the little trinkets clunk around in the dryer. Then as I'm folding laundry I make a little pile of stuff which finds its way back to the floor.

5 safety pins...from a costume fitting for Dane's class. They have the Spanish dance festival in a few weeks and somehow I got roped into being the costume mistress. I just can't help myself. I feel so sorry for the mom sitting there saying "Okay, who wants to be in charge of costumes?? Bueller?...Bueller?...Anyone?...Anyone?" So 26 kids down, only 67 left to go.

1 of Libby's hair clips. I wish they were recyclable because we go through about 3 of these per day. She has the cutest hair cut, but it gets in her face when she's eating. I'm tired of combing crusty yogurt out of her hair so we clip it back. 30 seconds into a car ride and she has the clip out and chewed to bits. I just realized they are a choking hazard.

1 letter "P" from the Bananagrams game. Fun for big groups, the kids just play with a partner http://www.amazon.com/Bananagrams-BAN001/dp/1932188126/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=toys-and-games&qid=1236235556&sr=1-1
2 marbles from the marble-race-set-up-thingy. We've certainly got our money's worth with this toy. Everyone plays with it. I cringe when my kids ask for help setting up a new track, then I totally get into it and we spend hours making up configurations. I think this is the one we have http://www.amazon.com/International-Playthings-Q6538-Marble-Run/dp/B00023DENA/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&s=toys-and-games&qid=1236235752&sr=1-8
1 soldier guy from Risk. Dane loves Risk. I mean really loves it (see previous blog). We played it so much the board fell apart. Then I brilliantly taped it back together so that it wouldn't fold. We've lost so many of the "guys" that you always have to be two colors to have a complete army. It was getting confusing! Kate bought us a new for Christmas. The new one has cool options for playing. The down side is there are no more "guys," instead just little plastic arrows. Arrows?? Kinda lame. I used to be able to lose to Dane at this game, you know, you gotta let them win sometimes. That doesn't work anymore, he totally knows when I'm sandbagging. http://www.hasbro.com/shop/details.cfm?guid=93FE9B63-6D40-1014-8BF0-9EFBF894F9D4&product_id=22163&src=endeca

Well, that's all for today folks. I just read back through this post and thought about how much we play games at our house. I'm not so great at pretend play, so I always choose games instead. Just the other day Lib sat through a whole game of Sorry, even taking turns! For that I'll keep stuffing my pockets.

Will the REAL Teddy Roosevelt Please Stand Up. . .

2009-02-10T15:49:00.008-07:00

Dane had to do a biographical poster and oral report on a "hero" for school. He chose Teddy Roosevelt. Not because I'm such a great mom who teaches her kids about history and its' characters, but because he saw him on Night at the Museum.

The entire 2nd grade then does a "wax museum" where the kids dress as their hero and display their posters. It was very cute. Lots of Anne Frank and Tiger Woods. Here are some photos of Dane. He's dressed as Teddy Roosevelt during the Spanish-American War.

Dane is A-OK with doing the research and poster, but dressing as the hero was another story. I learned that if there is no promise of candy he's not interested in costumes. His description of the moustache included, "ridiculous," "outrageous," "annoying," "itchy," "embarrassing," and "dumb." Ultimately he agreed that you can't be Teddy Roosevelt without the facial hair.

What is wrong with this picture?

2009-01-21T13:23:00.006-07:00

If you can't see for yourself, I'll tell you.

He's in MY bathroom instead of the kid one down the hall.
He's facing the tank. This is a little trick I taught him when he was potty training (um, 4 years ago). You may think I'm crazy, but when you're 3.5 year old tells you he "wants to stay in diapers so he can poop ALL day" you would try just about anything, too. He seemed to feel much more confident about using the toilet when he was sitting this way. I honestly thought he gave that up already. I mean, he's seven now so I don't really check up on his potty habits anymore. Guess old habits really do die hard.
He's playing Risk. I heard some funny noises coming from my room and found it was just Dane reenacting WWII on the toilet tank. Judging from the number of magazines (BRAD'S!!) in my bathroom I guess the need for entertainment during these moments is genetic.
I have to say that even taking this picture is wrong. Funny, but wrong. Of course I compound that by blogging about it. Please don't ever tell him!

It's Great To Be a Florida Gator

2009-01-09T15:28:00.005-07:00

I love the Gators. Two years ago Brad bought me a ticket to the National Championship game for Christmas. I actually cried when I opened it. They brought me to tears again last night, more than once.

I won't review all the plays here but the Sooners were out-coached and out-played. I got misty-eyed when our defense blocked two of OU's fourth-and-goals. Black's interception in the fourth was, well, pure beauty. No matter which team you cheer for, you have to admit that was some football.

When Tim was born he was very sick. Mr. Tebow prayed that his boy would get better, and promised God that if He saved little Timmy then he (Tebow Sr.) would make him a preacher. Well, I don't know exactly what that means. But today I am burning incense to the Gods of Football for coming through for us.

I don't want to hear any more about Utah. I feel for them. It sucks. After rolling over the Tide they should have gone on to play another game. Yes, Florida had one loss, and like the mole on Cindy Crawford's face I wish it would go away. But I'm celebrating my team's victory today!

Little slide show I've put together for Tebow (pictures were found on the Internet mostly at daylife.com):

If you haven't read these Tebowisms have a look (also on tebowism.com):

The light at the end of the tunnel isn't a train, it's Tim Tebow
Tim Tebow once got Blackjack with one card.
Life doesn't give Tim Tebow lemons. Life asks him which fruit he wants.
When you open a can of whoop-ass, Tim Tebow jumps out.
Tim Tebow can eat just one Lay's Potato Chip. Don't tell Tim what he can't do.
It takes Tim Tebow 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes.
Tim Tebow doesn't bowl strikes, he just knocks down one pin and the other nine faint.
Tim Tebow can be at two places at once.
Tim Tebow won the Tour de France on a unicycle to prove to Lance Armstrong it wasn't a big deal. He thinks yellow wristbands are gay.
What color is Tim Tebow's blood? Trick question. Tim Tebow does not bleed.
Tim Tebow ordered a Big Mac at Burger King, and got one.
If at first you don't succeed...you are not Tim Tebow.
When Tim Tebow does push ups, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the world down.
When the bogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks the closet for Tim Tebow.
People with amnesia still remember Tim Tebow.
Tim Tebow's family once threw him a surprise party. Once.
When Tim Tebow was a kid, he made his mom finish his vegetables.
Superman wears Tim Tebow pajamas.
Tim Tebow counted to infinity. Twice.
When Google can't find something, it asks Tim Tebow for help.
Tim Tebow is the reason Waldo is hiding.
Tim Tebow gets called for roughing the tackler.
You can lead a horse to water, but Tim Tebow can make him drink.
Tim Tebow can get breakfast at McDonald's after 10:30 A.M.
Rome wasn’t built in a day because Tim Tebow wasn’t born yet. When Tim Tebow eats, he doesn’t have to wait 30 minutes to swim.
The recent earthquake off the coast of Florida measured 6.0 on the Richter scale, or .024 Tim Tebows.
There are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, Tim Tebow lives in Florida.
When Batman is in trouble, he turns on the Tim Tebow signal.
God has a Tim Tebow complex.
At birth, Tim Tebow came out arms first so he could stiff arm the doctor in the face. Nobody delivers Tim Tebow but Tim Tebow.

Don't Eat the Yellow Snow. . .

2009-01-08T10:36:00.007-07:00

As you can see from the picture on the sidebar, we've had a lot of snow! The other day Dane was outside playing in the powdery stuff. Awhile later, I looked out the window to check on him. I couldn't see him and when I called a neighbor he wasn't at her house, either. I went outside to find him shoveling the snow on another neighbor's driveway! I tell you, these little moments in motherhood make it all worth it.
Of course, as I continued to watch the snow come down through the window I saw this sweet little child come up the driveway. He set the shovel down in the snow, then looked around very cautiously. You know what kind of look I'm talking about. The kind you see on a hidden camera just before the guy in a puffy jacket tries to stuff a six-pack under his coat. Yeah, go ahead, nobody's looking. Sure enough he just whipped it out and peed right there on the snow. He must have had a lot to drink that day, because he was making rainbows all over the place. I have to say I just let it go. Well, actually Dane did, but what I mean is I didn't run outside threatening him with a call to the police for public indecency. Seriously, what kid isn't mildly curious about yellow snow? And who wants to come inside and remove boots, snow pants, coat, hat, gloves, etc. just for that? I bet if we were to take a poll Dane isn't the only one to have tested this out (feel free to confess in your comments).

I'm Dreaming of a Shake 'N Go Speedway

2008-12-16T15:17:00.012-07:00

Let this be a cautionary tale. . .

Christmas 2005 Dane was 4 years old and all he wanted was the Shake 'N Go Speedway. We had seen the commercials, it looked fun. So, that's what Santa brought. With great anticipation we set up the track, applied the stickers, inserted batteries. "Start your engines!" "GO!" then stop. The cars only ran for about 3 seconds. The toy was L-A-M-E, LAME.

This is when I stepped in and won the bad mother award. I convinced Dane (against Brad's advice) that we should return the toy and get something that actually worked as promised. He asked, "But if Santa brought it, how do you know which store to return it to?" I replied, "No problem, you can return anything from Santa to any store. We're just going to Mommy's favorite store, Target." I think we picked out some Hotwheels thing, which turned out to be just as lame (it just took a bit longer to figure that out). Anyway, we all moved on. So I thought.

The next March we were enjoying our annual trip to AZ to visit my parents and enjoy some warm weather. I gave each of the kids a penny to throw in the fountain at the mall. After the coin tossing I asked them what they wished for. Dane said, "A Shake 'N Go Speedway." Ahh, the daft wishes of a child. So silly!

A few months later we came across a picture of Dane opening the Speedway on Christmas morning. He asked me if he could have the picture. Within a few days this picture was hanging on the bulletin board in his room. We'd graduated from silly to irritating, but once again we moved on. So I thought.

In October this year, just for fun I popped in a home movie for the kids to watch. Of all the tapes I could have chosen, I picked the one which documented our precious memories of Christmas '05. I was horrified to see a little Dane opening the Speedway in full color on the TV screen, but hopeful that he didn't care anymore. Nope. He has been asking for the Shake 'N Go Speedway for two months now. At this point he has totally outgrown the toy, even if it wasn't L-A-M-E, LAME. I think Aunt Courtney might be getting it for him, so she can be the hero and I can have some peace.

Can't Stop This Potty Train

2008-12-06T08:00:00.002-07:00

While running errands with me yesterday Lib kept saying, "I have to go potty!" Which is hilarious because she is still in diapers. I just ignored her. Once we were home I was preoccupied with, I don't know, something. She came running down the hall with her cute bum showing.
"Where's your diaper?"
"I go potty!"
"Really?"
I went in the bathroom and sure enough, she had taken her diaper off, put her Dora seat on the toilet, climbed up, went tinkle, and wiped her bum. All by herself! I gave her a marshmallow because that's the only thing I had resembling a treat. I was going to wait until after Christmas to start this process, but I guess she's ready.
Can you imagine never buying diapers again? I've been buying them for 7.5 years now, with the exception of a 2 month break between Mo and Lib. I'm thinking that's an extra $30 a month I'll have to spend on. . .I'm sure I can think of something. WOOT!

Hee Haw

2008-12-04T14:48:00.005-07:00

I'm a jackass. It's true. Maybe just for today. I didn't even notice the gas light was on in my car until it was too late. Yeah, if you were driving on 16th North today that was me on the side of the road waiting for a rescue. OUT OF GAS!! Who does that? Ugh! Thank goodness for Michele or I would have been there much longer. She even brought me a Diet Coke, my drug of choice.

In other news. . . BRAD RESIGNED FROM MERRILL TODAY!! I have to scream it because I've been sworn to secrecy for months. He is now a partner in his own firm, RedStone Advisors. This has been very exciting and stressful. I'm adding a link to his practice on the right sidebar which should be up and running in a few days. Check it out sometime.

Gotta run and put the ornaments back on the tree (LIBBY!) and do about one million other things. I have much to update so check back tomorrow!

The Ballad of Brad

2008-11-26T13:39:00.012-07:00

So we planned a little trip to Colorado over Fall break (see previous entries). Brad ended up having an urgent business trip scheduled at the same time. I wasn't happy, as you can imagine. I really did my best to be understanding and supportive, which means I didn't throw things and yell at the same time. Seriously, you would have been proud of me because I was mostly nice about it. I decided the kids and I were going anyway.

Two days before we left Brad announced that he would fly into Grand Junction and then rent a car to get to Southern CO where we would be camping. The company he was visiting would pay for the car. Cool, right? Until they backed out of the deal and renting a car was just too expensive on a vacation we were trying to do on the cheap (remember the yurts?). So, one day before the trip he came up with a new plan. . .

Fly to Grand Junction. Then find a place to hang out while waiting for the departure of the 3AM bus. He'd ride the Greyhound bus all night from Grand Junction to Durango. Arriving sometime in the morning, he could just wait for us to come and get him, as our campsite would be about 45 minutes outside of Durango.

I told him that was the craziest thing I had ever heard. Ride a bus all night? Who rides buses anymore? I'll tell you who: escaped convicts on their way to Mexico; thieves/serial killers looking for unsuspecting businessmen going camping with their families; AND abused women who secretly learn to swim, jump off a boat in a storm, swim to shore, flush their ring down the toilet but it didn't really flush, put on an ugly wig as a disguise, get on a Greyhound to a town near their Grandmother's nursing home, all to just escape their psycho-mustache-wearing-hang-all-the-towels-straight-food-labels-facing-out-husbands (guess the movie and leave your answer in a comment). I just rolled my eyes and said, "Whatever," then went about the business of packing.

It took me about 24 hours to realize what was going on. My husband was willing to to do all this so he could spend 2 days with us on a camping trip. I'm fairly certain I would not have done the same. Talk about a knight in shining armor, literally.

Driving to Durango to pick Brad up that morning I actually shed a few tears considering his gesture of unselfishness. I explained to my kids why we were going. I know they thought I had lost my mind, especially since I was so emotional about it. I'll tell them this story again someday hoping that they will realize what an awesome Dad they have.

If you're feeling sappy you can pause the music player at the bottom of this page and have a listen here:

Ten Things I Picked Up Off My Floor Today

2008-11-07T16:13:00.004-07:00

Libby's Poo--from her diaper that she took off and then stepped in.
Smooshed grapes--Camille thought this was funny, until she had to help clean it up.
Leaves--from my plant with Seasonal Affective Disorder. I brought it inside and it immediately dropped all it's leaves
Cereal--Libby again. Required vacuum.
Dog food--please explain to me why the dog eats anything off the floor except her own dog food.
Shoes--about 50 pair. I think they are reproducing at night and scattering themselves around the house just to play games with me.
Yogurt--Libby again. She threw the container at Camille and missed.
Green army guys--leftover from Dane's epic battle in the living room.
Moon sand--the person who gave this to my kids is going to get markers from us as a gift for their children. :)
Hair rubber bands--guess who again? Picture me as Dustin Hoffman, substitute "rubber bands" for toothpicks, and click here (you can pause the music on the player at the bottom of the page--skip ahead on the video to 4 minutes):

My Final Halloween Post, Promise

2008-11-03T12:57:00.006-07:00

IT'S OVER!!! Okay, here's a picture of the kids in costume. Libby refused to wear one until we convinced her that she'd get candy. She is wearing the turtle costume Dane wore when he was the same age. At least I think it's a turtle. Brad says it's a dinosaur. Since the other two wanted to be Star Wars characters, I thought it would be cute to dress Lib as Yoda. Then I decided I didn't want to spend $20 on another costume when I have a whole collection in my basement. Camille preferred Darth Vader to Princess Leia, so there you go. Dane is some kind of clone trooper or something (there were about 500 of them at his school).

We follow the policy of eat-it-till-you-puke when it comes to Halloween candy. I just hate having it around for weeks and weeks, and I hate the power struggle over when the kids can have some and how much they can have. Thank goodness Halloween was on a Friday this year, and here's the girls on Saturday. You should have seen the floor underneath them. YUCK! But, it's over!

Why I'm converting to JW

2008-10-31T14:18:00.002-06:00

IS IT OVER YET??!! I swear if I have one more minute of Halloween I'm going to loose my mind. I actually like the trick-or-treating with the kids part (and the "candy tax" we tell our kids they have to pay). It's all the rest of it that's pushing me over the edge. I was the only mom not dressed up helping with the party in Camille's class today. Oh well. It was all I could do to get 2 kids to school in costumes, Libby dressed and fed (which was cereal in a ziploc bag and BTW she's refusing to wear a costume), myself showered, an event flyer for the school finished, and the take-home-reader books changed by 9:15 AM this morning! Who are these parents I saw at the 9:30 costume parade whose kids are all made-up with full face make-up, both parents are costumed (also with make-up), some even had those tiny dogs dressed up?? Seriously. Bah Humbug (and yes, I've decided this phrase applies to Halloween)!! We've also attended two pumpkin-carving parties, one grown-up-dress-up party, and have been invited to eat dinner with friends before trick-or-treating tonight. What is going on here? Someone needs to hire a skywriter to let everyone know, "HALLOWEEN IS NOT A HOLIDAY!" What happened to the kind of Halloween we had when I was a kid? I never wore a costume to school, not even once. On Halloween day we waited for what seemed like ages for our parents to get home. Then we put on costumes, got some candy, and it was over. There was a kid in my 3rd grade class who always got to go home when we had class parties because he was a JW. I'll tell you what, those people are on to something. . .
I know this is another ranting post, so I'll post pictures of the kids with their costumes on and realize how darn cute they are tomorrow.

Halloween Hilarity

2008-10-28T12:48:00.004-06:00

Here are some pics from a Halloween party we went to last weekend. Brad, our neighbors Cyd and Ryan, and I are the Spice Girls. Brad is Scary Spice (the black one), I'm Posh, Cyd is Baby, and Ryan is sporty. Our costumes were exclusive purchases from the D.I. Unfortunately this picture doesn't show the high-heels I made Brad wear. I tell you, he was a crack-up. He watched a Spice Girls video on you-tube at least 5 times. Then he made me download "Wannabe" to his ipod so he could have it down for karaoke. What's funny to me is that he drew the line at make-up. I mean once you're dressed like a woman with heels, leopard print, an afro wig, and tons of jewelry, why stop there?

For your viewing pleasure

Home Sweet Yurt

2008-10-20T17:14:00.006-06:00

Every October the kids have UEA (AKA deer hunt, fall break, etc.) which means Thurs, Fri, Mon off school. So, we decided to take a little trip to Southern Colorado/Utah with friends. We were trying to do this on the cheap so in CO we stayed in Mancos State Park. The campground had yurts available for a nominal rental fee. Camille called it a "tiki" (??). No running water or bathrooms inside, but pit toilets and a water pump nearby. Good news, the yurts were cool--equipped with a mini fridge, microwave, bunk beds and two futons. Even better news, the weather was perfect so we were only inside to change clothes and sleep. Maybe this park isn't very well known becuase we had the whole place to ourselves for 2 days, 3 nights. Seriously, there was not another camper, family, vagabond (or shower) in the place. We never even saw the park attendants! The kids got to run around crazy (Dane) and make lots of noise (Dane again). Then at night we collapsed our exhausted selves in the heated yurts! While in CO we went to Four Corners, visited Mesa Verde National Park, hiked in Mancos State Park, and had a s'more extravaganza over the campfire.

Saturday we went to Moab and pitched our tents at the KOA then spent some much-needed time in the showers. Libby did surprisingly well the whole time on this trip with no naps and sleeping at night in a big-girl-bed. Now that I think about it, I'm sure these two things (no naps and sleeping anywhere at night) are related! Sunday we hiked to Delicate Arch. I stayed behind for a few minutes while Camille had a meltdown and the rest of the group moved ahead. Long story short, they missed a turn and got lost for awhile so Mo and I hiked most of the way just the two of us! Then some lunch near balanced rock and the drive home. We had such a great time! The kids are already requesting to go back and stay in the yurts again!

The pictures are posted below. I can't get them to work inside the text, so I have to publish them seperately. Ugh!

2008-10-20T17:02:00.000-06:00

Number Crunching

2008-10-10T13:31:00.007-06:00

Today blogging is my therapy becuase I think my brain is going to explode. Seriously when I typed that sentence I had to go back and spell "brain" 3 times. I don't actually have time for this so I'll be brief.

3 birthday parties. Thank goodness for school supplies that went on clearance at Target. Drawing pad, scissors, glue, and markers: $.45 each. Grand total on gift: $2.00. Shoving all items in a bag I found in the storage room and sending my kid off for an hour of sugar-induced heaven: Priceless.

1 Primary party. Tomorrow I have to pick up 18 pizzas, set up a projector/laptop, and sit through 90 minutes of movie party hell. Is it possible to have hell inside a church? Usually I don't mind this kind of stuff, this is just bad timing. I hope none of the moms in my ward read this and realize their kid just spent a Saturday afternoon with a homicidal maniac.

1 dog bite. On my leg, see picture. I managed to get out on the bike the other day. The best bike-riding weather ever. I was on the way home going up a steep hill when Cujo attacked. The picture doesn't do it much justice (insert your sympathy here). It's now bright purple and still swollen. I don't even know what else to say about this!!

575 books. At the school book fair. I volunteered there the other day, only confirming my belief that I have signed up to help a few too many times at my kids' school. I always think, "Oh, I'll just do an hour or so." But all those hours start to add up. I actually said "No" to going on the kindergarten field trip this week. Camille wasn't happy about it, but I'm pretty sure I saved lives that day.

2 Star Wars pillow shams. Except what I ordered was 2 white shades for my dining room window. ANNOYING!

128 points. The Dow closed down again today. Haven't seen Brad for about 2 weeks. He is so stressed out we can't even blink at him. What's scary is that he wants to go to Costco to beef up our food storage (what food storage!!?? why did I use the word beef!!??). I swear if I have to start grinding wheat there are some Wall-Street #$%&@ that are going to hear from me.

2 parent-teacher conferences. These actually went well. Especially compared to last year's fiasco. According to teachers, Dane is brilliant in math (thanks, Wittusen genes) and Camille is the most enthusiastic Kindergartener.

1 toddler. Libby has decided that she wants to use the potty NOW! You say, "Heleen! What's wrong with that?" For one thing, I hate potty training. Another, she's my baby and I just want her to stay that way. Most importantly, we are going on a trip next week that involves much driving, sleeping in a yurt (you'll know more about this as soon as I do, but see http://yurt.urbanup.com/754329 ), pit toilets, and no running water. Get it?

1,742,979 pretzels. I think that's how many I've eaten this week. I bought the "Big Bag of Pretzels" from Costco, and since we've been so busy I just keep grabbing handfuls of those to eat. Except for the Diet Coke and peanut M&Ms a friend brought me after I unloaded (in a not-so-nice-voice) on her over the phone yesterday. If you know me well, you know that my eating habits are of paramount importance to me. OCD anyone?? I'm starving but I just don't want to be bothered with food right now.

269 maids. I need this many to clean up my house. It looks like someone came in with a firehose and sprayed our crap around. Speaking of which, I better get off the computer and do something productive.

Why not a guinea pig?

2008-10-03T15:21:00.009-06:00

A few weeks ago Dane brought home a sign-up sheet for weekend care of the class pet. It's a 2-foot-long bearded dragon. Let me say that with every reptile encounter I've really tried not to be so girly. Even so, I still find them, well, repulsive. So I thought about it carefully before signing up. I told myself not to be so stuffy, wimpy, etc. We can really learn from this experience. I mean, it's in a cage, right? So, I signed us up. For two weekends.

Today I went to the classroom to pick up "Mick." Folks, this is a BIG lizard. Dane's teacher seemed busy doing a few things, so I asked what I could do to help get him ready. She had me line his weekend crate (a plastic storage bin) with paper towels, a heated rock, and food dishes. Then she said, "Okay, you can just pick him up and put him in the bin." I must have looked at her like she had nine heads becuase she transferred Mick to the weekend condo herself. I asked Dane if he was going to pet him at home, and he looked at me like I had nine heads. Aside--This species is known to have babies with multiple heads. Camille, of course, shouted, "I'm going to pet him!"

So far I have confirmed my belief that reptiles are just down-right creepy, and while I'll keep a happy face for the kids, this thing gives me the heebie-jeebies. Right now he's set up near the kitchen (out of reach of the dog), so heaven help me if I get hungry or thirsty in the night. The good news, my house is currently the most popular in the neighborhood and we have been reading/learning much about Pogona vitticeps.

Native to Australia
Mild temprament, so they are good for households with children
Omnivorous
They brumate, or hibernate
While they rarely bite, it is often preceded with hissing (my personal favorite)

Dane's teacher said Mick might shed his skin this weekend. Fabulous. She also instructed us to feed him lettuce (dark greens) or, for a special treat, crickets and meal worms. I think we'll stick with lettuce.

Week from hell. . .

2008-09-22T13:13:00.011-06:00

So, let me tell you. . .

1. Brad works for Merrill Lynch, so as you might guess, things aren't that great right now. More explanation later. . .

2. Dane was missing for over 30 minutes after school on Friday (I found him at a friend's house). He was supposed to go to River's on Thursday but that didn't work out, so he just decided to walk home with him on Friday. When he got to River's house, River's grandma was surprised to see Dane and asked, "What time will your Mom be picking you up?" To which he replied, "I don't know, maybe 6." Stinker!!

3. In the process of being so anxious about finding Dane, I backed out of the driveway too quickly and smashed into Brad's business partner's car. I don't mean a little scratch. We're talking major body work. At first I thought it was one of the kids' bikes. No such luck, since I'm sure the $60 Wal-Mart bike would have much cheaper to replace than fixing James' car.

4. My neck has been hurting for almost 2 weeks now. I'm pretty sure my brain stem is broken. Okay, I know that's not possible (although my stupidity might prove otherwise) but it hurts that bad. I haven't been able to run, bike, or swim for several days. Okay, so I've done some biking, but it's downright dangerous when you can't turn your head to check for traffic. Can't say I miss the swimming. . .

5. Brad sprung it on me that we were having his two business partners and their wives and children over for dinner. He also proceeded to explain why it was no big deal because I could just make spaghetti and meatballs. MEN!!

6. I got a speeding ticket on Saturday. I don't mean a little 15-mile-over deal. I was going over double the speed limit. LUCY!! YOU HAVE SOME ESPLAINING TO DO!! I know, I know. It's just that I needed to get to SLC to see the UF v. Tennessee game. I didn't want to miss kick-off. That part is true. But what really happened was that I was driving Brad's car away from Dane's soccer game. Brad was taking the mini-van, which was parked a few blocks away. I realized that my wallet was still in the van. So I sped over (like, really sped) to catch him before he left. I never saw the cop. I just pulled in front of the van, rolled down the window and told Brad I needed my wallet. Brad discretely pointed out the policeman pulled over behind me. Ruh-roh. I explained to the officer that I hardly ever drive Brad's car and it's just too fast. I mean, you can hardly tell when it's going 56 in a 25. I swear I had no idea I was going that fast. I swear. The cop proceeded to explain that he actually thought I was trying to run away from him. AS IF!! That's the closest I've ever come to being arrested. Well, maybe. He must have mostly believed me because he took it down to 44 in a 25, so that (lucky me--sarcasm) I can go to traffic school. To top it all off, I ended up missing kick-off anyway.

So, there you go. I'm trying to laugh but I think it's too soon.

2008-09-19T13:15:00.003-06:00

I was in the library at the kids' school today. The librarian told me she talked to Camille this morning and that she, "knew she [Mo] was definitely a Wittusen."
Hmmmm....I have no idea what that really means. I'm hoping it means that my kids are not afraid to speak their minds and have a reputation for good reasons. My Dad used to tell me that my alligator mouth was going to get my hummingbird a** in trouble. He was right. I just hope my kids can learn that lesson sooner than I did!

Quote of the Week

2008-09-15T18:47:00.006-06:00

I have added a "Quote of the Week" segment to bigkidpants. It won't come as a regular post, only a text entry on the blog. You'll have to check every few days for the new funny gab from the kids. Here is a sample of some of my favorites from the past. . .

March 2008
Camille (at age 4) is rummaging around in the kitchen
H: What are you doing?
C: Looking around.
H: What are you looking for?
C: Don't worry about it, Mom. I know what the hell I'm doing.

January 2005
Dane at age 3
H: Dane, when you told Mommy that you didn't know where my watch was, that was lying because you took my watch and put it in your room. Lying is not a good choice. Remember your new Primary ring says "CTR?" What does CTR mean?
D: Choose the right
H: Is lying choosing the right?
D: No, lying is choosing the left.

October 2007:
C: When I'm a grown-up I'm going to give my kids french toast sticks and ice cream and I will drink LOTS of soda!!

Fall 2005:
Dane (at age 4) drops something and breaks it. . .
D: Damn it!
H: Dane, that's a bad word, don't' say that.
D: So, only you get to say it?

And a final favorite:
Dane barely 3 years old. . .
D: What are you doing Mommy?
H: Putting on make-up
D: What's that?
H: Mascara.
D: Does it SCARE you?

Move over Bindi Irwin. . .

2008-09-03T11:50:00.007-06:00

9 am and I get a panicky call from the neighbor. It seems that her cat has dragged in a snake and in a fast-reflexes-knee-jerk-reaction she threw a colander over the poor little reptile. Now it's trapped in her house and she needs someone to come and get it out. You would think she is calling for Brad's assistance, but as you might guess he's at work. . .noooo sir, she needs the help of the one and only 5-year-old snake charmer, Camille. "No Problem!" says little Mo. We walk down to the corner house where I spy the well-ventilated snake trap. I have the neighbor's daughter open the back door so Camille can be ready to bolt with the now rumored to be anaconda. What I would give for some leather gloves, a 10-foot pole, or one of those grab-things-up-high-ma-doodles you see in Sky Mall--just to lift up the colander. I act brave and reach down to lift the trap, while Camille says, "It's okay, Mom." My neighbor is standing on her couch (ready to pounce or save only herself??). Mo just reaches under, grabs the snake, and instead of running for the door and letting it go as soon as possible, she actually holds it for a minute and poses for this picture. Unbelievable. She loves reptiles, which is, well. . .weird.

Pretty Young Things, Repeat After Me. . .

2008-08-31T14:56:00.006-06:00

When I was in the 4th grade my teacher's name was Mr. Mekus. That was the year I ran for class historian and didn't get elected. I made pins for my friends to wear, gave a rousing speech, kissed babies on the playground, and by what I'm sure was a very narrow margin--didn't get elected. That's the only historical thing I remember about the 4th grade. I pretended not to care, but now you know how devestated I was.

That was also the year that I memorized the entire Thriller dance so that I could dance along with the video. Yep, videos were fairly new then and MJ blew us all away with that one. My brother and I recorded it from tv on our betamax machine (it had a remote with a long cord that could stretch all the way from my Dad's recliner to the machine), with the Making of Thriller on the same tape. Just a bit of trivia--and I remember this from the Making of segment--Thriller was directed by John Landis (John Landis as in, John Landis the director of such gems as An American Werewolf in London, Blues Brothers, and Animal House). ANYWHO!! I've always been a Michael Jackson fan. He forced me into the closet with the release of Bad, but I guess I'm outing myself. I wrote all the lycrics to Say Say Say (one of a few duets with Paul McCartney) on my Trapper Keeper in the 3rd grade.

Mr. Mekus arranged our desks in groups of four and asked us to name our group. I was seated next to 3 other girls and we decided to call ourselves the P.Y.Ts.

So you can imagine my surprise this weekend, going into an ice cream shop in Mt. Pleasant, Utah (aka middle of nowhere) and hearing this song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KYQHPV6COKQ&feature=related

Historian? No way. I should have been elected D-Jay.

Miss Lu-Lu

2008-08-28T21:59:00.005-06:00

She cracks us up. The video speaks for itself

100 Miles and Mildly Sore

2008-08-28T15:48:00.001-06:00

Here are some pics of my first 100-mile ride, The Cache Valley Century. I got my new bike just in time, thank goodness. I felt great from mile 0-40 (even after I realized I missed a turn), crappy from miles 40-60 and then okay again for 60-90. I don't care who you are, the last 10 miles are a bit of misery. Not too much misery, just a bit. The last 1.5 miles I could see the road rising (literally rising) in front of me--all of a sudden everything started to ache a little but I made it! ps-I just noticed in the picture of me sitting on my van my collar is tucked in--I must have ridden the last 60 miles like that--DORK!!

Lagoon

2008-08-28T14:26:00.003-06:00

We went to Lagoon a few weeks ago with our friends and neighbors, the Nelsons. It was our last big outing before school started. We had a great time! I couldn't believe how brave Dane was on so many of the rides. I also couldn't believe how sick I felt after a few of them. What happened to the girl that used to go on spinning-upsidedown-backwards-twisty-turny-rides without even flinching? I either have a better understanding of my mortality or in the process of giving birth I damaged my inner-ear balance thingy. There is a picture here (scroll to bottom of page) of Camille when she got her head stuck in the bars while waiting in line for the bumper cars. One of those moments where you feel so bad for her but can't help giggling. After 5 minutes of hilarious agony I remembered I had some really greasy sunscreen in my bag. We slathered her up and she slid right out. Whew!

No Habla

2008-08-27T22:23:00.000-06:00

Dane also started 2nd grade. He wouldn't pause long enough for me to take his picture. He also wouldn't give me a kiss good-bye at school.
According to Dane:
H: Okay, give me a kiss good-bye
D: Mom, that's embarassing.
H: Oh yeah, sorry!
According to Heleen:
Dane reaches into mother's chest, pulls out heart, and stomps on it.

He is in a Spanish-Immersion program now, so his teacher teaches the 2nd-grade curriculum but only speaks Spanish. He came home the first day so excited. "Mom! I know that the Spanish word for Tuesday is Jueves!" I didn't have the heart to tell him that Tuesday is Martes.

Did she really go to Kindergarten?

2008-08-27T22:12:00.000-06:00

Camille started Kindergarten this week with Mrs. Madsen. She is a brand-new teacher this year. I sure hope those 5 & 6 year-olds don't chew her up and spit her out. I didn't cry when I dropped Camille off, but I already shed a few tears earlier this summer. I just can't believe she is old/mature enough to go to school. She doesn't seem worried or anxious, but I'm getting thoroughly annoyed that her answer to every question I ask about school is, "I don't know." She said she made a few friends, "Some boys and some girls," but has no idea what their names are. Today she showed me where she sits and proclaimed, "The girl that sits here next to me, I made her my friend." Forget the math and reading, it's all about the friends. . .