Shovel All the Coal In, Gotta Keep it Rollin'

Chattanooga, there you are!

Today was another sleep-until-11 situation at my mother-in-law's. There is just nothing that's not great about that.

Then we went downtown and went to a lunch place on the riverfront that serves only hot dogs. But, you know, all fancy! Like, they do things to hot dogs you never saw. I had a dog with bacon, pimento cheese, and arugula.

Hank ordered a bowl of granola with milk. And a side of fries.

Then we strolled around downtown--if you've never been to Chattanooga, I do recommend--and took the kids to see Frozen. We bought tickets online ahead of time because I was thinking, Saturday after Thanksgiving, the place is going to be mobbed with families out on the town. But the theater was nearly empty, and then I remembered: SEC football. Georgia played Tech today AND Auburn v. Alabama. Everyone on my facebook feed was in spasms.

3Ds!

We really enjoyed the movie. I had zero expectations for it, but it was adorable. If you need to take the fam to the show sometime during the holidays, it's a good choice. Then we went back to Betty's and collected our stuff and the dog, and headed back down the highway to the ATL.

And now we're home, and I'm sitting here watching Magic Mike with Matt and Lincoln. Another adorable movie. But different.

I have really liked the daily writing this month. I think I will commit to blogging alternate days in December. Every day is, like, too much me?  Thank you for coming along and reading! I mean, looking back, nothing happened. But it was the kind of nothing I like. I hope and pray for a lot more of it.

If you'll indulge me, I think my favorites were my posts involving Matt, maybe this one and this one.

I still didn't even get to cover all the stuff that happened this summer, or even all of my neighbors, but we'll take it up in December.

Smooch to the nooch.

Christmas Shopping Coup

Someone got taken to see Thor tonight, and got a slushie. It was thor excthiting! 

Y'all! I have to tell you about my shopping caper. OMG. So if you have a little boy, you have probably heard of Skylanders Swap Force. It is the latest iteration of the Skylanders game, and it's coming to rule us all. For those not in the know, Skylanders is a game that comes with a little portal that plugs into your xbox or whatever, and you put real actual toy Skylanders guys on the portal, and then they appear in your game and you can run them around the virtual world. The people behind this are evil geniuses, because they get you to buy the game and the portal, and then they get you to buy all the different guys. Which causes me to become best friends with the twenty year-old down at Game Stop, because only he can get me the Super Rare and Unobtainable Eye Brawl guy. Thanks Josh.

Whatever. Bear with me.

Okay, so Swap Force necessitates a whole new portal set up. Of course it does. So the "starter kit," which comes with the game, the portal, and a few guys, is $65 or $70 on Amazon. Only lately did Hank start talking about wanting it, and I thought I'd keep an eye out for a deal sometime in December. Then today I was perusing Want Not, and she mentioned that the Starter Kit is $37 on Target's website. They were sold out on there, but I checked store inventory and thought, okay, maybe my local store will price match the website. I left the kids to watch each other and went up there.

The kit was $49.99 on the store shelf. Which if I hadn't known better, I would have thought was a great deal. The kid working in the electronics section seemed frightened to be spoken to. So I carried the box with me up to customer service. Will you price match your website? Sure Ma'am! Oh, but wait...this item is out of stock on the website so we won't price match.

Did you get that? They will match a target.com price only if the item you're holding is still available on target.com. I said, "But, I could go into Walmart and THEY would match the price on Target.com, in stock or not. Why don't you sell it to me here?" I mean, these people don't know that I don't shop at Walmart.

I thought this was so strange and annoying. It's that weird thing where you're holding out money to someone and they can't figure out how to take it. But a manager came over and confirmed, no, the kit is $49.99 because it's sold out online. I thanked them and walked away, but then realized that with my Target debit card, which gives 5% off every purchase, and the little extra 5% off coupon I got from the pharmacy rewards program, the thing would be $40, so okay. Not $37 but close. I went through the checkout and bought it.

Then, THEN, I was home and had stashed the Skylanders in the gift closet. (God forbid the kids ever figure out I don't just keep birthday gifts for other kids in there.) So I'm doing my thing at home, and Hank, who is a natural-born fixer, comes to me with this coupon he has unearthed. It's a coupon for $10 off the very starter kit I'd just bought. He goes, "Hey mom, maybe we can use this!" Then he nudged it onto the edge of the dining room table and backed out of the room. Let me underline: He had no idea I had just made that purchase. It was a total coincidence, or else part of the weird matrix of synchronicity that conditions all of our actions. I vaguely remembered seeing this coupon come out of the multipack of chips I bought for school lunches. Hank probably had it in his tickler file. I swear.

So I thought, "Yes, I would absolutely drive up there and return the kit I just bought and re-buy it with this coupon." I would still have my ten percent off that I'd used earlier, so by the power of Maths I figured the kit would be $32. Then I got busy and made dinner and stuff, and then Hank reminded me that I'd said we could go to a movie, so off we went. Matt met us at Thor, and took Hank away afterwards, so I could do my errand.

Oh my lord, you're not still reading this!

So I roll back into Target at 9:30. I get another starter kit off the shelf and take both up to customer service. I tell the now-different clerk what I'm doing. She says she can take care of it all in one go. So she returns the one I bought. Then she looks it up online, for some reason, and she goes, "Look, it's $37!" I'm like, "Ah KNOW! OMG!" Actually I said, "That's even better!" So she rung it up for $37 and then scanned my $10-off coupon, and then I had my little percentage-off cards, and with tax and junk that thing was $26. When there was a good chance I would have eventually paid $65 for it. An absolute HEIST.

I didn't even ask her to match the online price, she did that all herself. And a woman behind me was there to pull some maneuver involving the same game--I think she was there to see if they would match the online price, and she goes, "I wish I hadn't met you, because then I wouldn't know there was a coupon!" And I was like, "It's from a bag of chips."

Then I went to the back of the store to get some beer and as I walked back by, that woman was kneeling down rifling the chips. So I strolled over to her and pointed her to the right ones. And I considered that a good night's work. Sisterhood is powerful.

Then I came home and explained it all to Matt in a hushed voice, and I said, "Give me the highest of fives!" And we very solemnly clasped hands over our heads.

And, scene.

Suggestible

I had our cable tv turned back on around the time of the US Open in September. We had been streaming-only for years.

So now the kids see some commercials.

So last night we're in Target shopping for our Operation Christmas Child shoeboxes. And the kids are having fun thinking, selecting, comparing, and fitting different combos of items, Tetris-style, into the boxes.

Then we were finishing those up and Hank goes, "Oh, Mom, can we get just one thing for me?" I gave him a wary, mother look, with my eyebrows slightly raised and a "go on" face. You parents are familiar with this face.

He goes, "Can we get Febreze Tranquility? Because I've been having a hard time going to sleep. And if we can get it, I'd like the 'quiet jasmine' one."

So this is some kind of room freshener/oil diffuser that touts its aromatherapeutic properties on some commercial that I haven't even seen. And it's not the kind of thing that I'd ever even be aware of, much less buy. Just not a part of my world.

But y'all. The way he said it! So sweetly and earnestly somehow, with an air of, "Well here's a product that will solve a problem, we should give it a try." And he enunciated each word so carefully. I had the debunking and dismissal right on the tip of my tongue. I've issued similar dismissals a thousand times in my parenting career.

So what I said was, "Okay, I think that would be down that aisle." And we went and he knelt down and picked out the 'quiet jasmine' scent and we bought it.

I think I knew that I could say, "Buddy, that stuff doesn't work like that, we don't need it," or similar, and he would accept it instantly. But I thought he would feel a bit foolish to have asked for it so credulously? I don't know. Now we own some quiet jasmine. It does not smell actually bad.

Tonight Laura was away at a sleepover, and after dinner out, Hank and I wrapped up on the couch and watched Monsters University. Then, at bedtime, he asked me to help him activate the little fragrance thingie, which I did. As he carried it upstairs, he goes, "I feel sleepier already."

A Hair Do And An Elbow Don't

Laura's elbow in a happier time.

Wednesday night at swim practice, Laura had her arm fully extended on a stroke and the kid in the next lane ran into her hand, jamming her outstretched arm. She says she saw her elbow bend way the wrong direction. She says it was sickening, and I can well believe it. It hurt a lot and she got out of the pool. But she was moving it and didn't seem to be too distressed. We just had her ice it and I told her she'd rest it the next day. She skipped swimming last night, but her arm wasn't feeling any better, even with rest and ibuprofen. She took to wearing one of her circle scarves as a sling.

So, like any concerned mother, I went to get my hair done this morning. I told Laura she could sleep in and skip school, but I needed to get in for my foil and cut, because that appointment was hard to get, and with the holidays upon us, the other matrons were gonna be all up in there, taking all the morning time slots and drinking all the cucumber water.

Hurr

So my lady did her thing, which takes about three hours, and then asked if she could hot roll me and take some pics for her Pinterest board, so I was like, okay, so she put a bunch of rollers in my hair and when she was finished, I looked like a Judd cousin. I have some curls, but they're not big blousy curls like she produced. And I resolved that I needed a date night, because that hair needed to be out and about.

Then I went home and Laura's elbow was not really in any better shape than before, so we got Hank and went to the children's urgent care and were seen quickly. They xrayed her and said that nothing is broken, it's probably just sprained, and it's hard to determine the extent of soft tissue damage with xray, but nothing is swollen. They gave her a sling and told her no sports for a week.

As he was ushering us into the first room, the male nurse nodded towards me and said to Laura, "Is this your sister?" I was like, oh please, and Laura explains, "No, she's my mom." And he chuckled and I kind of rolled my eyes, but, you know, appreciatively. It was the power of the hair!

And as we were wrapping up, I got a text from my friend. She was like, "How did Laura turn out? We are heading there because Harrison's cousin hit him in the head with a hoe."

Yikes!

So we go out into the waiting room and there is Hank's buddy Harrison, looking a bit wan and clutching a paper towel to the back of his head. It was clear there had been a lot of blood. My friend looked a bit wan herself. So by then Matt was there and the other dad was there and we had a pleasant little neighborly catch-up around our injured children. The intake nurse was reassuring them that even minor head wounds bleed profusely, and the dad was like, "Yep, it's not our first time at this rodeo."

Harrison got five staples in his head and is okay.

Then we went back home, and Matt went back to work, and I was still planning to go out when he got home tonight. Then something got in my eye that I was super allergic to. I have no idea what it was; I don't really have a lot of problems with allergies. But it itched and then swelled up, and I took a benadryl, which made me feel instantly drowsy.

So Matt came home and I'm like this weepy, puffy-eyed, sleepy Judd cousin with fantastic CMA hair, and I was like, "Let's just eat this pizza you got for the kids and stay home." Done. 

Now I'm stretched out on the couch and this hair is like the desert rose in the poem, born to blush unseen. And that's a Friday for you.

Around here, people are starting their vacations tonight, because the kids are out of school all next week. Y'all?

Edited to add: OMG, remember when I was bald? That was a thing that happened. Anyway.

The Boy in Digest Form

At Sliding Rock near Brevard, NC

The other day, I looked at the shaggy, sheepdog-headed Hank and said, "Do you want to get a haircut today?"

"No," he said.

"Well when do you want to?"

"The last day," he said.

"The last day of what?" I asked.

"The Last Day," he said.

Oh. Well, I am not dumb, I know that when the actual Last Day comes, it's going to be tough to get anything done, right? You show up somewhere and people are like, you just had to wait until the Last Day? Also, as a facebook friend pointed out, currency will be worthless on the Last Day. So I waited until the Last Day I could stand his hair, which was Sunday, and then we got it cut and it was fine. Turns out it didn't steal his essence or whatever the hecks. And then I got him a double cheeseburger.

****

This afternoon, Hank came in from the school bus and brought his buddy in to play. Before they ran off, he came through the kitchen and said, "Mom, I wanted to say thank you for all the work you do for us around the house."

(!!!)

I said, "You are very welcome, bud. I love taking care of you." He nodded, like this answer did not surprise him. I wanted so badly to ask him, "Who or what put it into your head to say thanks to me?!?" But I did not want to invalidate or dishonor his impulse, you know? I wouldn't have asked another adult where he got the idea to say something nice. I wanted to give him full credit. So I did and I do.

****

 Just now, at bedtime, I lay down in his bed for a minute and we had our hugging ritual. The ritual is called Hugging Time, and we hug while we sing "hugging time" to the tune of "Stepping Time" from Mary Poppins. I don't know, it's our thing. We sing one chorus that way and then he turns over and goes to sleep.

But tonight, after hugging, he said, with a sudden note of distress, "Mom, I'm afraid to go to school tomorrow. I did something really bad!"

Whoa. I didn't think it could be anything really bad, or I would have heard about it at least three ways before bedtime. But I said, "Well what was it?" He wouldn't tell me. He goes, "It's embarrassing! And I did it in front of fifth graders!"  Okay, so then I'm like, did you fall down or something? And I'm imagining some farcical scene of slapstick mortification. But then he came out with it.

"I accidentally said who I have a crush on in front of the fifth graders! On the bus!"

"Okay," I said. "Well let me tell you a secret. Fifth graders are not interested in first graders or first grade things. They are only interested in fifth graders. They will not remember."

"How do you know?" he asked. "Because," I said, "I remember being a fifth grader and that's exactly how I felt."

"But," he probed further, skeptical. "When you were in fifth grade, did you ever hear any really good first-grade information?"

Like, this is premium intel, Mom. Really good first-grade information. Nobody could fail to take an interest in a tidbit of this significance.

So I said I would drive him to school in the morning.

The End.

And The Living Was Easy

June 2013

The main thing that happened this summer, in the time of No Blogging, was that my sister and her family came to the US from Australia and stayed for six glorious weeks. We hadn't been together in a year and a half. Which is a long time in the lives of some of these people. Here's the before shot:

October 2011

This was the picture I described taking in this post. Which also has a ripping yarn about a pair of nightstands. Look at the kids! And look at Dad--so much less of him. And more of baby Gabriel. And of Laura, who is now taller than her Aunt Amy.

And the Nike pullover being worn by Matt in the top picture was also worn by Jason in the bottom picture. That's mountain house style for you.

It was a relatively last-minute thing that they could come. From late June until they left the first week of August, we made it our main priority to spend time with them, here in the ATL and up at the mountain house. They also squeezed in trips to see Dave and Katie on their forty haunted acres, and a trip to Florida as well. Y'all, it was so nice. The kids were perfect ages to disappear for long periods of time. And we talked and talked and talked. Nobody ate a cricket this time either.

Then, THEN, we all went to Disney World. In August. Of our own free will. When this idea was first broached, Matt and I were like, NOOOOOooooo....But Amy usually gets us to do what she wants and that's what she did and we were glad we did. I'll save that for its own post. Too much magic! The story about the corndogs alone needs its own post.

Here are a few more snaps from our time together. Summah flashback!

Dudes

Gabe

A happy Fourth of July

This is how tired I like children to be.

Nate and Hank!

Ava and Laura

Sibs

Thank you for indulging me in this summer throwback. Basically, besides kid activities and lots of sweating and mediocre tennis, the salient fact of the summer was the Australian clan visiting us. Now it's like you were there! Go get some rest for that scrolling finger! xoxox

I Think That I Shall Never See

Laura making an entrance.

We are still follow, follow, following that yellow brick road, until this time tomorrow night. As a tree, Laura is in all six shows. Her line is a scornful, "She was hungry!" after Dorothy plucks an apple from one of the trees. Then all the trees throw their plastic apples down at Dorothy and Scarecrow.

Then in another scene, she's an oak tree. And in the Haunted Forest, she has Spanish Moss. So, you know, a full tree acting range! As my dad said, "Epiphytes are hard to pull off."

But Laura is hilarious. She's complaining that none of the other trees stay in character. She's like, "We're supposed to be mad! And all the other trees are turning their heads to watch Dorothy. We don't care about those humans!"

It is a fun show. I remarked on it last year, but there's a load of talent in that group of kids. The little Dorothy is the complete package. And for some parts, Toto is a real dog, who totally steals the scene.

Never work with animals, people.

Goodnight Oz!

More tomorrow, my pretties!

Stouthearted

Two turkeys

Last night, Hank came to where I was sitting. His face was grim, but his shoulders were squared. He was resolved on something.

"Mom, can I have a napkin? I'm ready to pull this tooth out." He pointed to a very wiggly bottom tooth.

This was kind of huge. He looked like someone who is trapped by a boulder and needs to saw off his own arm: He's made his decision and he's terrified, but he is drawing up his courage. It was killing me from the first moment.

He insisted he didn't want me to do it, so I walked with him into the kitchen and handed him a paper towel. "It's ready to come out," I said. "Just pinch it up from the gum."

He probed and poked around his tooth for a long time. Or it probably only seemed like a long time. He would give it the gentlest of tugs, with no result. Finally, when it seemed like he had worn out his nerve, I said, "Do you want me to do it so, so quickly?" One instant after he said yes, the tooth was out, and he yelped, "Ouch! That didn't hurt!"

With the scary part behind him, he grew expansive. "You know," he said, "that's the first tooth I ever lost on purpose."

"What happened to the others?" I said.

"Well," he said, "they always just came out on their own. You remember that one got stuck in a banana. And Harrison kicked one out."

Here I was lamenting this brief instant of pain I caused by pulling his tooth out, while his buddy apparently KICKED HIM IN THE MOUTH on the trampoline and I never even heard about it.

We sealed the tooth in a baggie.

"Mom," he said, "since I know the Tooth Fairy isn't real, can I have that dollar?"

I was taken aback. When had we reached this state of affairs? I had some memory of getting tired of lying about stuff to the kids. Or maybe we sacrificed the Tooth Fairy to save Santa?

"No way," I said. "You don't just get handed a dollar. You have to go through the ritual." This was the answer he seemed to expect.

So then I put the tooth in its baggie on the counter and forgot about it and so did he.

Ritual.

Let's Ring Some Doorbells

Hank has really changed these last months.

Look who is 5'9" tall now.

These twelve year-olds weren't about to not trick-or-treat.

As I've noted before, it's against the law for a momblogger to not post pictures of her kids' Halloween costumes. Barack Obama himself will come and shut your blog down. Just close it right down.

On Halloween night, while the kids were out doing their thing, I sat in the kitchens first of one of the K(C)athies, and then of Normal Neighbor, and I exchanged a wealth of neighborhood info with those excellent ladies. There are so many changes in the 'hood to make you guys aware of. I might take a few posts to work my way around the block, filling you in on the current status of many of the characters you know from this blog.

Conspiracy Guy is well known to long-time readers. Click on his label over there on the left, or just right here, to read his history in posts. In a nutshell, his most notorious actions are being the world's most oblivious stay-at-home dad, who let his children roam the streets from the time they were two and four. I swear before the Lord, my foster children would come to my house at that age and stay for hours, without anyone inquiring after them. (Now that they are seven and nine, it is more normal for them to roam, I suppose.)

Then they got a little bigger and more girls moved into the neighborhood, and Hank is no longer their only playmate, so we see less of them. But still plenty. Conspiracy Guy's other thing, you may recall, is taking his kids out of school to home school them. Now, I think home schooling is great and I know people who are doing a completely awesome job of it. I also knew from day one that CG would muck it up in a terrible way because he is lazy and is himself ignorant.

I'm sorry if this sounds bitchy, but I'm not doing anyone a favor by shielding you from this.

So, we all continued in this way for the last few years. His little girls were doing some form of workbook home school with him in the morning hours, then walking around in the street from late morning until the elementary school bus came, when they would pounce on all the potential playmates as they got off the bus.

But this August, change was in the air. The littler one, who is the spokesperson for the two of them, told me that they had started going to home-school school. It's one of these flex-time academies that I guess is designed to supplement your at-home curriculum. There are a couple around here and they have a religious bent. Hank has another buddy who goes three days a week and is home schooled the rest of the time. Anyway. I said, to the little one, "Well, that's neat! How did you decide to do that?" She said, "My dad needs a break." Okay. But then, THEN, a couple more weeks went by and I realized that the girls seemed to be gone all the time in the mornings. The report then made its way to my ears that the school had assessed them and said that they needed to be there five days a week for extra help.

The older one, who is nine, was very candid, in a charming and guileless way. She said the school had given her the test for third grade, and she didn't know any of it, and so they said she needed to come extra days and do second grade along with her little sister. Those were her words, "I didn't know any of it." Bless her. But she seemed happy with this school arrangement, and I said that she would probably meet a lot of new friends that way, etc.

I told Matt about this whole situation, and he was like, "That guy had one job." I mean, he is just sorry. Is that harsh? He is. That nine year-old is not dumb. She is inquisitive and probably has some learning issue that someone competent could have intervened with a long, long while ago.

So last week my pediatrician buddy and I walked up to meet the afternoon bus, and the foster children were there. Hmm. I said, "Hey, no school today?" And the little one said they weren't going anymore. At all.

Back to being home all day, every day, with Jean Piaget over there.

The little one sounded like she was quoting one of her parents. She said something like, "They wanted us to go every day, and we didn't want to do that, because we want to home school." So they quit.

So maybe Conspiracy Guy has some plan for meeting the apparently urgent educational needs of these little girls. But I doubt it.

It's sad.

Sorry to be such a downer. And sorry this post is so long! I forgot how to blog and all.

Oh, OH! And speaking of Halloween, for years that we lived here, the foster children never trick-or-treated because of something to do with Seventh-Day Adventism, but this year they did. But Conspiracy Guy didn't hand out candy and kept his porch light off. Which offended my sense of Halloween reciprocity. To my kids, I was all, "That's just taking! You have to give!" To which Hank said, very serious, "Mom, it's really okay."

Okay. That's what I have for you today.
xoxoxo

Pretty Much All Downhill from Here

Brrr! Pool's open, y'all.

Laura is still with her friend at the beach, and this morning I packed Hank off to Stone Mountain with his buddy for the day. Then I went to play tennis under a blue sky. While I was there, it dawned on me that Fabienne was on her way over to clean. I said to my friends, "Girls, listen. Other women are caring for my children. Yet another woman is cleaning my house. This is really pretty much the peak for me and I don't expect that it can get any better." They all affirmed me, with sisterly satisfaction.

Oh, and even the dog is away. She stayed at the mountain house for doggy spring break with Mom and Dad.

Thank God we don't have to deserve the good things that happen to us.

You know?

Then I stopped by the pool, just because it was open, and snapped this pic. Then I had lunch with Matt. Now I'm going to go get my car headlight replaced. I called the auto place to inquire as to whether they could fit me in, and the guy goes, "Well if we have the right bulb, it will take about fifteen minutes. If we have to order it, it will take about thirty minutes." I was like, whoa, where are you ordering it from, magic man? Next door?

I just talked to Laura on the phone. She is having a fabulous time. They rode their bikes to Seaside and saw the house from The Truman Show. Then she saw Reese Witherspoon in a bar. Another mother might have asked, "What were you doing in a bar?" But I was all, "OMG REEEESE!"

I am pretty sure we would be best friends if she would just call me.

Tonight, Hank, Matt, and I will get on the road to head down to his Tough Mudder race. That will be in the morning. I had to sign a waiver to watch this thing. I will keep you informed.

You please do the same. xoxo

The Ultimate in Just No

There's Kate on her back porch.

Y'all, as soon as my sister-in-law Kate sent me this story, I asked if I could share it with you guys because oh my Lord, people just be acting all crazy. It's the first post on her blog in like three years, but we need to convince her to revive and renew her blog now that she's living out on the forty acres next to the haunted church, with some kind of redneck Sasquatch probably roaming her property. I know I would enjoy reading a mommy blog from this milieu. I still think about this four year-old essay she wrote on lipstick at least once a week.

Anyway, Kate is a licensed mental health counselor and is growing shiitake mushrooms on a log. You want her on your team. 

Without further ado, her tale:

This week I've had a flurry of mommy dates.  And there is one thing I've learned: just because we are moms, it does not mean that we should be friends. This is a rookie lesson, I'm sure.  But, man, I'm learning it the hard way. It's strange. This new mommy socializing world. It really feels like dating. Sort of. Anyway.

Take today, for instance. I drove thirty minutes to meet a mom and her two kids at a Cracker Barrel for breakfast this morning. Note: breakfast. As in, both G and I had on clothes and our hair was brushed by 8AM. This is sacrificial in my world. I do not do anything quickly in the morning. But, she had initiated this date a few weeks ago and I wanted to get to know her.  

I was running a few minutes late and so I texted her to let her know I'd be there shortly. I got there before her and waited a little while. Well, G is at the age that if I put him down in a Cracker Barrel we would end up having to buy a couple of throw pillows and some glass frog figurine because he would destroy it all. So, since I couldn't stand around holding him for long, I got a table. After we were seated, I texted to let her know where our table was.  After about fifteen minutes, she still hadn't responded to either text, so I decided to go ahead and order. I mean, after twenty minutes into a restaurant excursion with a toddler and there is no food on the way, you start getting strategic. Another fifteen minutes went by and I rechecked my texts to confirm the location/time. You know how you do. I even sent another text to let her know that we were ordering (she's a texter, by the way). And, of course, I called my husband to announce that I'm pretty sure I was being stood up for the first time. 

Well, our food came and we ate and it was a good forty five minutes after she was suppose to meet me, so I started to get a little worried. One more text of "Is everything ok?" and she immediately calls me. And, I kid you not, she starts with "Ohhhhh, hey!" and then proceeds to go into a long explanation of how she had both of her children dressed and ready to go and then she got distracted filing papers. Filing papers. And then she actually DESCRIBED to me the papers that she was filing and why they needed to be filed. And, btw, she doesn't work outside the home, so the paper was, like, her mail. I was all HUH? What? OK.

Then, THEN, she goes "Well, what are you doing later today?" And, I'm all "Oh, Yes! Let's totally get together.  I really want to spend more of my time on you today!!!" No, I was not. Instead, I tried to get off the phone as quickly as possible (I had reached the point of letting G play with the creamers on the table). And then she says "Awww, but I was really looking forward to hanging out with you!" And I'm sure there was an apology in there somewhere. But my eyes had gone crossed and I was done with the conversation.

I mean, for real ya'll. I told my mom there are many more excuses that she could have given me that would have given our friendship a chance. But there is something about the filing of the papers--even though your kids were dressed and ready?!--that let me know that we just won't be friends. You know? And, let me add, she better be glad that G is content to sit and eat.  Because I know some other mommas who would have taken their earrings off. You don't make a momma with a toddler wait on you.

No indeed you do not. Thank you for bringing us this tale, Kate. My eloquent response to this was, "omg rude."  But I think there must be something wrong with that woman. And I totally agree, that non-excuse would let me know that I could never count on her for another thing, ever again. What form of craziness IS that?

I mean, do whut?

Her Drama Faculties Are Undiminished

Laura woke up in the wee hours of this morning with a very high fever and a sore throat. Ruh roh. Also chills, headache, the works. Strep was my first thought. I turned off her alarm clock, dosed her with meds, and as soon as the pediatrician's office opened, I called and got her a morning appointment.

Her fever had slowly come down by the time of the doc visit, but she was feeling very poorly as we drove over there. She is never sick, so we were both sort of in a state of dismay.

I asked, "Did you manage to get back to sleep after you first woke up this morning?"

She sighed and looked at the passing trees. "No," she said. "Every hour was like a decade."

Gracious.

The quick strep test was negative, it's just some virus, so there was nothing for it but some good old-fashioned being waited upon--hand and foot--by mama. So that's what we did. We came home, installed her on the couch, and I set about bringing her different drinks, hulling her strawberries, arranging her throw blankets, and feeling her forehead. And no school tomorrow either.

And I know she felt bad, because darned if she didn't stay on that couch until she went up to her room at bedtime. This is unthinkable for her--she is go-go going during all of her waking hours. I offered to bring her something to read, and she was like, "I don't feel like I can focus on anything." So she watched Ferris Bueller. Then she watched War Games, I guess she was in the mood for a Broderick festival. Then she played some Xbox Lego Lord of the Rings ("Don't tell Hank"), then she watched Dancing with the Stars, then, after Hank came home, she watched a show about dinosaurs.

I made a big pot of delicious chicken noodle soup, and she managed to eat that as well as strawberries, toast with cheese, some chicken pot pie, a banana, and popcorn. I figured that was enough nourishment for basic life support.

At one point I ran out to the store for more provisions, and I got a text from Matt. He said he wasn't sure if he was getting sick, but he felt tired, achy, and enervated. He did allow as how these could all be symptoms of the nine-mile run he did this morning. And I was like, let's hope so, I can't advise you because I wouldn't know anything about what it feels like to have run that far. For me it would feel like being dead. But one sick person at a time!

The soup seems to have restored us all, mostly.

Hank is fine. He has a new watch that lights up, and it caused quite a stir in the classroom, with people asking him the time repeatedly. He mentioned that he instituted a policy to deal with his sudden popularity. The first three times you ask him what time it is, he'll tell you for free, and after that it costs a penny.

I didn't know what to say to that, exactly, as I had my hands full with other things.

I hope you are feeling well.

That Egg Hunt Was Totally My Neighborhood

The egg hunt at the clubhouse almost got scrapped due to rainy and generally disappointing weather, but in the end it just got delayed an hour. I took Hank up there to check out the scene. There were pastel balloons on the porch and everything looked springy. When we entered, I saw right away that the lady I blogged about just the other day was standing not two feet inside the door. I began shaping my face into a greeting, but with her usual social smoothness, she glanced away before I could speak, so I just bustled right past her.

The next thing I noticed was that the new neighborhood social director, the one in charge of organizing this event, had made her ten year-old daughter the Easter Bunny. Now, this child, bless her, has some complex of issues that are unknown to me and are not obvious, but one of the ways it all manifests is that she has no sense of personal boundaries and will come tackle-hug you out of the blue. Which is fine, but startling when you don't know the kid and she locks her arms around your waist. She's a big girl too. So the odd result of this choice of Bunny was that, though several little kids were unnerved by the EB and wanted nothing to do with her, this EB didn't wait to be approached, she was coming after you. When we first walked in and Hank clapped eyes on the Bunny, he said to me, very audibly, "I don't like clowns and that thing is just like a clown." So we steered clear and went to the snack table.

I had a very nice chat with a book club friend (post forthcoming), and then with a guy tennis friend, who dangled intensifying divorce rumors about this one couple on our mixed team. It seemed the wife in the on-the-rocks couple had asked my friend to be her partner in a flex league, rather than sign up with her husband, but my friend's wife-to-be had put the kibosh on this plan, supposedly because their wedding planning was going to keep him too busy. We agreed that the wife's not wanting to register to play with her own husband was a sign. Of something. Or not.

Then the egg hunting began and I had an interesting talk with Gift of Gab's husband--I think of him as Mr. Quiet Desperation--about hiking the Appalachian Trail. His lady love sidled over, now ready to acknowledge my presence, and we had a normal social interaction. Then all the eggs had been picked up and Hank and I made good our escape.

Then, tonight, Gift of Gab sent me a linkedin invitation. Idk wtf.

That's all I have but I swear it's the same as if you'd been there. xoxo

Don't Wanna Miss A Minute

Yesterday my dad interrupted a lengthy phone chat I was having with my mom. He just wanted to tell me how much he loves me and admires the person I've become? Nope. He wanted to say, "Tell her she owes me a blog post for Saturday." And now for Monday but I know nobody is really keeping track RIGHT?

We'll make it up as we go. I'm realizing I need to make time during the day to blog, because once night falls and the stars appear over the village green, and all the people are snug indoors, there are just too many things competing for my attention: parental duties, marital leisure, basement ping pong, the hope of an early bedtime, and also Matt and I have started watching Justified.

Since last we spoke, Troy the rat trap checker came back. We were both glad to see each other. He went up in the attic and informed me that we'd murdered another flying squirrel, and I received this news with equanimity. Then I went to play tennis, where my friend said, "Oh, you paid the exterminators what? You should have called me, I have a guy."

I should have called her. She always has a guy.

Then I took Hank to karate and Laura to swimming and made a black bean and sausage soup. Laura and I nearly both lost our minds over her math homework. What's a hectoliter, quick!

Then it was today. Now I'm just telling you everything I did.

This morning I went to tennis team practice and then hung around and hit with some of the girls. The weather was gorgeous, and after three hours out there playing, all my cares had flown away. I had lunch with Matt, grabbed Hank, and checked Laura out of school to take them both to the dentist. It was there that my joy turned to chagrin.

The kids go back and then in a bit the dentist ushers me into his office and goes, "I have bad news." First of all, I have an allergy to the words "bad news," and I only want to hear them when it is bad, bad news. He told me that Hank has four cavities, which will have to be remedied in two lengthy appointments, probably involving some kind of sedation. Poor bud!

There was a fair amount of implicit judgment floating around about my slatternly ways of letting him brush his own teeth instead of doing it for him. I dunno, he has one of those spin brush things and I thought he was doing okay. But he was not! And now I am covered in shame.


Obviously Chick-fil-a was called for.

So there we repaired to nurture our spirits and kill a little time before I could drop Laura at swimming. A number of waffle fries found their way into my mouth. Laura ate a pile of chicken and then some of her brother's food. After a few minutes she goes, "Is it weird that I'm hungry right now?" I encouraged her to wait twenty minutes and then reassess. The girl can eat.

We chatted as Hank went to and from the play area. I petted Laura's hair and said, "Your hair is really  long, do you want to get it cut before spring break?" "Not really," she said.

Hank looked at me and said, with all the accumulated wisdom of his six years, "Just let the girl do what she wants."

Not bad advice.

But even with such charming company as those two, I stewed and was glum about Hank's dental situation. Laura, sensing the mood, goes, "Are you, like, traumatized right now?"

"No," I said, "but I was just realizing that one of Hank's cavities costs the same as killing one flying squirrel."


So basically everything is fine here. Now you're caught up. How are you?

Highlight Reel

What tennis looked like today:

Mah ladies.

What it looked like only THREE DAYS AGO:

Even with the terrible blur you can see that I am fully bundled.

Yes, our long hibernal nightmare may be over. Temperatures shot up the last few days, and it was a totally glorious weekend. Heading out to play tennis today, I felt lucky to be strong and alive. The luck o' the Irish indeed. Even though Pretty Neighbor and I lost, it still felt like a great way to spend a day.

Notice the matching outfits on my girls up there. They totally didn't plan that, but I told them we need to pair them together one week, and that would be the Most Annoying Ladies Doubles Partnership Ever.

I bet someone would go home and start a blog about it.

Another highlight: Matt's cousin and her family blew through town and spent the night with us. It was good to get the kids together with their cousins.

See how the back door is open? Heaven.

Hank and Wade, age 8, were playing in the book room, and I overheard Hank say, "You know, you're really good at Legos." Respect. Then Laura flat-ironed CJ's hair and put shimmery eye-shadow on her. The adults ate a pot of stew, drank a bottle of wine, and very efficiently downloaded a lot of life information. A successful cousin meeting by any stretch.

I haven't heard any skittering in the attic in days. Either the creatures are all neutralized, or they're up there, waiting for us to get comfortable.

Both Saturday and Sunday mornings, Matt arose at the crack of doom to take Laura to her eternal and never-ending swim meet. He did not repine, because he knows that, with me, his name will be written in the Book of Life.

Jesus on the mainline, tell him what you want.

B

Well I Guess The Child Has Heard One Thing I've Said

This morning Laura and I sat in the car waiting for the school bus. She had cajoled me into driving her up there because it was 31 degrees, and baby might catch a chill. Anyway, so we sat together in our heated seats and I took in her outfit.

"Oh, I didn't know you ever wore those yoga pants to school," I said.

"Well," she said, "Yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and Toms, that's the thing now."

"That's the thing now?" I asked, "What about jeans and cowboy boots, is that no longer a thing?"

She assured me that jeans and cowboy boots was still also a thing.

In the rear view mirror I spied her friend Claire getting out of her family's SUV.

I said, "Wow, you're right. There's Claire wearing yoga pants, Toms, and a sweatshirt. She has a bow in her hair and is also chewing gum."

Laura said, "Her mother lets her chew gum."

I opined as how that must be nice for her. What's funny is that I don't actually FORBID GUM, but it is not part of our lives, and whenever I see Laura with gum, I say, "Where did you get that? Why don't you go spit it out?" I think it's one of the least attractive things you can do with your face.

Laura went on, "Whenever any of my friends asks me if I want gum, I say, 'Noooo.'" And here she affected a glum, hangdog look.

I said, "Yes, as I have mentioned before, you will never see Kate Middleton with gum in her mouth."

I offered that as though it closed the case. Laura sat in silent acquiescence.

I don't know why I make a thing of the things I make a thing of, I just do. There's a method to it all, somewhere.

Bring Your Own What?

Hank's Kindergarten teacher has sent home a letter and a permission form for Bring Your Own Technology. BYOT, as they call it, is widespread in our school system, but with Laura I don't remember it being a thing until she was in the fifth grade.

I remember the middle school orientation at the start of the year, where it quickly became apparent that it was basically required for each kid to have some kind of device they could do certain tasks on and use to read their online textbook. Parents were saying, "So should I just buy her an ipad, or some other kind of tablet? A laptop? Just say the word." I was like, "Do whut?"

I don't have an ipad. I have my beloved iphone 5 and a four year-old laptop that, though nice in its day, is now missing the left-sided shift, capslock, and 's' key covers. 

Not being able to hit the left-side shift has done interesting and probably permanent things to my typing.

Laura has an ipod touch that she got a couple Christmases ago and a Kindle Fire that she spent her 11th birthday money on. (That kindle is nice--I think those are a good deal.) Her Kindle Fire is what she takes to school and works on. Hank has none of this. He has a Nintendo DS that he plays with sometimes. He has our xbox, Legos, and the air and sky. I have not been inclined to put a smart phone-type object into his six year-old hands. Having that kind of thing is not part of his six year-old life.

Really, it's not even about the money, at a certain point it's about the having, maintaining, and keeping up with all of these small expensive objects. And indeed, since our older kids started doing BYOT in school, I know of a handful of lost and broken devices among my friends and neighbors.

Of course, the teacher writes in the letter that no child will be left out, that it's not mandatory, that there are a few classroom devices for kids who don't have one, etcetera. On the way to school this morning, Hank brought it up. "Mom, the permission form for BYOT is in my folder." (The way he says BYOT, with emphasis on each letter, is adorbs. Bee, Why, Oh, TEE.)

I said, "Well bud, what are most people doing for BYOT?" He had the precise metrics: 16 kids in his class have an ipod touch, he said. And Christopher and Max have ipads. The remaining six of them can use the classroom computers and the three classroom ipods. 

Having to use one of the classroom devices sounds fine to me. Hardly a deprived situation, right? And he didn't complain or whine about it. I just said, "Well honey, you don't have an ipod, I don't think you really need one." 

But this morning I told Laura that I would like for her to do her brother a favor and lend him her ipod every Friday, with the understanding that if it gets lost or broken, I'll underwrite the loss, and she was fine with it. 

What do you think? Is this the norm where you are? 

I Would Have Done Such Wonderful Things

Such wonderful things with that golden hour that was taken from us today. I know that complaining about something to do with clocks is zzzzz but there it is. I kind of lost the hour in which I was going to blog a real post.

What I did instead of blog with the limited time available to me today:

Woke up late, still at the mountain house. Farewelled Matt's departing family.

Had some coffee and ate supper leftovers for brunch. Didn't want to take a lot of food home.

Started reading Death Comes to Pemberley by PD James. If you are an Austen fan, you would really like it. Usually when someone attempts to imitate Austen's style and tone, it makes me feel a deep, deep sadness. But not in this case.

Texted with four people to find out what was going on, in real time, with our Sunday team's tennis match today. The news was mixed.

Played a board game that Laura had spent the morning making. It involved buying lottery tickets to get ahead and win. Hmm.

Stripped/made a bed. Policed our area and gathered our belongings. Cleaned the kitchen. Directed children through the sub-par performance of cleaning jobs. While Laura was on her knees cleaning something off the kitchen floor, she said, "I feel like Cinderella!" Matt said, "Only the Cinderella who always gets to go to the ball? And doesn't ever work?" I chimed in that there was a name for that Cinderella--it's the evil stepsisters. Laura harrumphed.

Then I gave Hank some glass cleaner and some paper towels, and honestly, watching a young child attempt to clean a pane of glass effectively...it is just something. Something character-building. I showed him how to do it better and then we did it together and a lot of paper towels died in the process.

Read some more while Matt and the kids had one last hot tub.

More light reading.

Shut down the mountain house and locked the door behind us. It is always strange to me to think of it sitting there, cooling down, empty and waiting, the rays of sun traveling across the rooms day after day and nobody there. Except the ladybugs, who are wintering in the corners.

Sat in the passenger seat and provided color commentary on all of life while Matt drove us home to Atlanta.

Played a little Rock Band 3 with the family. Found that child bedtime came quickly, more quickly than the kids felt was just. Matt announced, like the closing-time bartender, "You don't have to go to sleep but you can't stay here."

Watched an episode of Game of Thrones with Matt. Watched the very first episode again because now we know who the heck everyone is.

Sat in bed and instead of blogging, let Matt show me some of the new parts of his game, Dungeon Blitz. It's looking great.

Wrote this post.

Tomorrow morning's wakeup is gonna be tough. xoxo

Of Buckets

We are in the mountains this weekend with Matt's mom and brother. It was a very quiet day today. Highlights were: Staying in bed until 11am while Betty tended our children, playing boardgames, inspecting a mudslide that has buried one of the mountain roads, and washing rich brown mud off of two dogs.

Mudslide or landslide? I don't know the difference.

Hank can somehow read now and that has expanded his game access.

During an afternoon hot tub with the kids, they asked Matt to give them riddles and puzzles. This is one of their favorite things. He came up with a set of questions that everyone had fun with, and I thought you might like to use them with your littler people.

He started by telling the kids that they had two buckets, a five-gallon and a three-gallon, and they were standing on the shore of a lake with unlimited access to water. They must come up with exactly two gallons. How to do it?

After some cogitation and false starts--Laura wanted to just eyeball the amounts of water in the buckets, Hank wanted to go get two gallons of milk and compare--even Hank realized that five minus three is two, and that you fill the five-gallon, pour as much as will go into the three-gallon, and you are left with a certain two-gallons of water.

One of the ground rules was that Hank was allowed to guess and think aloud, but Laura couldn't speak up until she was exactly sure of the correct answer. When she broke this rule, Matt ordered her to get out of the hot tub and run a lap around the house. Hank was then like, "Can I run a lap?" and wanted to use the physical challenge as an escape from thinking about the problems. Eventually we let him run a lap too, because why would I prevent a child from running around outside in a wet bathing suit on a winter day?

With that basic bucket puzzle theme established, with the five and the three-gallon buckets, Matt built up to asking them how to get one gallon, how to get seven gallons, etc.

I admit the seven gallons stumped me for a second. I have no ego in this area and I don't mind saying.

Play around with it, it's fun!

After the kids got out and went inside, we were like, "Yeah, those two are bright enough but I don't think they're exactly geniuses." I just have to trust that with their other strengths, they'll make their way in the world somehow.

That's the scene here today. What are y'all up to?
xoxo   

Home Health Aids

Hank and I took a sick day today. We have colds. But they weren't really so bad that we couldn't have gone on with our normal activities. Sometimes, though, I feel like I just want to give it a day--like go ahead and rest and just have a cold--and then bounce back the next day. And you know how you always feel worse first thing in the morning? At six thirty, I was like, "I can't gooo ooooonnnn...." I knew Hank was feeling the same and I made a game-time decision that we would sleep in today. I figured that if given the chance, he would cough all over everyone in kindergarten, and that's no way to celebrate Teacher Appreciation Week. So I fell back asleep with a tissue sticking out of one of my nostrils.

Laura got up, got her own breakfast, made her own lunch, and went to the bus stop unassisted and unheralded.

I have numerous elixirs that I dosed myself with throughout the day. They are of varying levels of efficacy and intensity. Some are just warm beverages. My favorite is just hot water, lemon juice, turmeric, and honey. For some reason, I call this hot ham water, in homage to "Arrested Development."



I mean, I don't call it hot ham water in the sense that I ever have occasion to say this aloud. But while I'm whisking in the turmeric with my little bamboo whisk, I think, "hot ham water," and chuckle inside. Watery, with just a smack of ham.

For some reason, that is the main thing I wanted to tell you.

It was wild and windswept here all morning. A good day to be inside. Just us and the rats that may have been trapped in the attic when the roof was sealed up yesterday. You know, cozy.

Hot ham water.