And Away Wii Go...

One need only flip on the television to discover the nation’s rampant obsession with sparkly clean, brand spankin’ new, “just on the market” items. Be it whiter teeth, boutique clothes, spotless cars or the latest technological gadget, parents today maintain a gotta-have-it compulsion. Prevalent philosophies include (Current wisdom): Latest Is Greatest and More Is More. (Clearly, ideal parents provide the best clothes and the most toys). Consequently, I worry well-meaning parents unwittingly foster a sense of entitlement in their children. In a race to get the most, and the best, stuff, have we forgotten ‘the best’ is rarely ‘the most’? I wonder if parents realize the cost of such temporary treasures goes beyond mere dollars and cents. (Do they take into account -sometimes confuse price and quantity with growth and quality) Ironically, in showering their children with brand name clothes and hi-tech doodads, parents are flushing away pieces of childhood. Perhaps these adults would benefit from a Dickensian trip to Christmas Past.
I was trying to teach “Star light, Star bright “ to one of my reading students awhile back. As she cautiously read one word after another, a funeral dirge came to mind. I began to wonder if I had drifted to off to a building with chanting Gregorian monks. “Sweetheart, do you have a window in your bedroom?” She nodded, thrown off guard by my question. “Have you ever crept over to that window and nudged it open, before you hopped in bed? Have you listened to the chirping crickets and felt the breeze as you gazed upon the moon? Have you stared up at the brightest star in the night sky? Gathering in your heart a sweet wish, and whispering it to the star….knowing stars really can’t grant wishes…but what if they could?” I was met with the proverbial ‘deer in the headlights’ look. “Well, sweetheart, how about this? Have you ever played hide and seek after supper, and as you’re ducking behind a tree, you notice that night has fallen. You look past the fireflies and see the shiniest star has only just appeared. And you silently wish for something you’ve never told a soul…hoping that it will come true?” At this point, I faced a ‘you’re nuts, let’s get this reading thing over with’ look. “That’s what this verse is about! Wishing on a star, it’s not a sad poem!” I was about to burst into song, my very own rendition of, “When You Wish Upon A Star…”, when it occurred to me that perhaps her evenings didn’t include crickets, fireflies or hide and seek. Perhaps a sack of McDonalds while watching TV, and then some Gameboy action until her eyes could no longer remain open. “Let’s read this together, and then promise me you’ll find the brightest star in the sky tonight, OK?” She shrugged back into her classroom.
I'd strongly argue replacing reality with virtual reality cheats children. Parents rationalize the latest and greatest video games, “give” their children opportunities. Staring on to a computer screen, does a child truly build camaraderie or exchange ideas as a team? Can video games impart the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat? Instead of downloading experiences into the minds of young ones…perhaps parents ought simply to open the back door. Children should not be robbed of the chance to experience the reality of play for themselves. At least that was my argument until the Bug and the Pea placed Nintendo DS on the #1 spot of their Santa lists for the third year in a row. ("Mommy, maybe THIS year Santa will bring us one!) These are the sweet baby dolls who never ask for a thing. Not even a pack of gum while standing in line at the checkout counter. These are the sweet babies who are content with hand-me-downs, always order water at a restaurant, and never whine, "But everyone else has one!" They still play for hours with blocks and stuffed animals and puzzles they've owned for ages. So, I thought, "Hey, why not?"
I've steadfastly avoided video games for 37 years now. I'm sorry to say I just don't see the point of them all. I'd much rather curl up with a well worn book under a quilt than shoot space invaders with a remote. In fact, I've been lobbying (unsuccessfully) for ages to completely throw out our television sets. After all, we could use our computer screen to play movies and catch up on newsworthy events. (Not that I would do that, I prefer to remain in my own little happy world, ignorant of the violence and evils of the world. But that's another story altogether...)
Nevertheless, I ventured to purchase two Nintendo DSi's for the kiddos. I wrapped them in the most ginormous boxes I could find and placed them under the Christmas tree. The girls opened the "usual gifts" first...new paint, new paintbrushes, sketchbooks, clay, some books, new socks. They, as always, were appreciative and grateful and giggly with glee. When they opened the DSi's the Bug and the Pea were thrilled. If I had any worries the kids would be baffled with the new technology, my worries were unwarranted. Within an hour of opening the gift, my first grader created a slideshow of photographs and set it to music. My third grader is probably discovering a scientific cure for diseases, even as I type.
After celebrating Christmas at our home, we traveled to my mother-in-law's for brunch. Under her tree were a wealth of gifts for the family. My husband and I opened our gift last: a Nintendo Wii. And I knew we were about to jump into this century feet first! I knew at that very moment, the television set was here to stay. The battle was lost, no hope for a comeback. Admitting defeat, I volunteered to set up the Wii. A few plugs here, a little synchronization there, the console was up and running in no time. I must say the video games of today are a far cry from the Texas Instrument's Parsec of my childhood. The children are not seated quietly on a couch while they play, but rather racing around the den,swinging their arms and legs and giggling out loud.
I know I should be finishing up my thank-you notes, even as I type. My general rule of thumb dictates: a gift may not be used until the thank-you note has been placed in the mailbox. However, as I'm currently vying for a championship boxing title..the thank-you notes must wait a few minutes as I 'take the ring'...in my den...

Silent Night? Not Quite...

The birth of a child, 2000 years ago, a miracle traditionally celebrated with gifts to each other. Remembering long lost friends with cards, making a point to say kind words and go the extra mile. (As my favorite Tennessee clients use to say, "I appreciate ya!"...I just love that expression.)There's something about this season that just makes folks want to burst out into song!
Christmas caroling is a tradition I adore. I have memories of caroling up and down our avenue with neighbors. Bundled from head to toe in caps/scarves/gloves/coat... ringing the doorbell. (Are they home?! I hear someone coming!) "Deck the Halls....!!!" we would sing, trying not to giggle halfway through the first verse. My children are fond of caroling. Each year we head to some type of assisted care facility to sing. Sometimes it's just the three of us on Christmas Eve, before Daddy gets off work. The kids get a kick out of their captive audience... much more exciting than just performing in front of "boring" Mommy at home.
Last year I was mentioning to a friend about our adventure. "You mean you take (gasp) the children? Aren't they afraid...you know...of what they see?" The Bug and the Pea most decidedly are not afraid. When they were in pre-school, they would accompany me on my Deacon visits to nursing homes. We never left home without a bag of homemade craft goodies...courtesy of the kiddos. Cards and other "creations"...valentines hearts in February, flowers in April...sometimes chocolate. The Bug and the Pea quickly warmed to the folks in the homes. They were exceedingly curious (and still are!) about the uniqueness of their adventures. Prosthetic limbs were always a huge hit. One lady grabbed a basket from the Pea's hands while shouting, "You ALWAYS take my things! Always!" The Pea wasn't sure what to make of this encounter, but smiled and asked the lady's name and we eventually were handed back our basket of ornaments.
Our most recent caroling excursion was humorous. Not to be outdone by each other, the Bug and the Pea sang louder and louder with each verse of each hymn. I'm probably imagining it, but I could have sworn I heard a collective sigh of relief from the facility's staff when we exited the building. And the night was silent...once again...

Mini-blizzard of Paper Snowflakes...

This evening, the Bug and the Pea created a blizzard of paper snowflakes. Clad in jammies, they snuggled under the Christmas tree with a stack of typing paper and some scissors. They folded the paper into quarters and cut rectangles and triangles and circles through the layers. Unfolding the paper revealed unique snowflakes, like the ones I created when I was their age.
I left one important Christmas tradition off my "Tradition List." Each year on the first Saturday in December, we head to the Kentucky Library and Museum's Annual Christmas in Kentucky Event. The children spent the morning immersed in the holiday spirit. Ornament making is their favorite! The Bug makes a bee-line for the table with the clothespin soldier craft. The Pea winds ribbon around a ball and decorates her ornament with paint. Wooden ornaments are crafted, pine cone/peanut butter/bird seed bird feeder ornaments emerge. Next it's time for a scavenger hunt through the museum, a magic show, a visit with Santa and some madrigal singers.
I love getting into the Christmas spirit...one paper snowflake at a time!

Trad-i-tion! Tradition!

We had a little friend over to play this afternoon. She was looking at some snapshots on our refrigerator. "You all went ice skating? I wanna go ice skating!" To which the Pea replied, "We go every year...it's a family tradition!" That got me thinking about other traditions at Christmas...
1. Setting up the tree the day after Thanksgiving...(see previous blog!)
2. Letting the Bug and the Pea set up the Nativity Scene...the same one that I've set up each year since I was a child.
2. Playing Amy Grant's Christmas cassette tape in our jam box.
3. Hanging a Santa Claus stocking and a Snow Man stocking on our mantle.
4. Decorating sugar cookies with all kinds of crazy colored icing.
5. Mailing Christmas cards with a photo of the Bug and the Pea enclosed.
6. Using clothespins to hang received Christmas cards on ribbons strung throughout our den.
7. Interlocking 25 construction paper loops as a Countdown to Christmas...hung on each of the kids' bedroom doors...removing one loop each night until Christmas Day!
8. Ice skating on the outdoor rink outside the church where we were married.
9. Watching the Grinch Who Stole Christmas and singing along.
10. Watching Charlie Brown's Christmas and tearing up when Linus reads scripture.
11. Caroling in nursing homes and bringing treats to the residents.
12. Making gingerbread houses and eating the decorations.
13. Opening gifts the Bug and the Pea bought at school's Santa Shop way early...because they just can't wait until Christmas for us to open them!
14. Christmas Eve candlelight service with communion and caroling.
15. Leaving hot chocolate and sugar cookies for Santa Claus.
16. Waking up at the crack o' dawn on Christmas morning as the Bug and the Pea race into our bedroom screaming, "Santa came! Santa came! We WERE good this year!"

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year....

In my mind I am skipping through the house, blissfully singing, "It's the most wonderful time of the year! It's the hap-happiest season of all!" (I actually do this twice a year, because...to me...the first day of school, when I send the Bug and the Pea packin' is truly THE most wonderful time of the year...But I digress...)
Last night we put up the Christmas tree. Well, the trees. I know what you're thinking..."I bet she puts up theme trees! Perhaps one with a UK theme, and one with ornaments all red & gold, and one with..." (Thank you for thinking I have the decorative prowess to accomplish such a feat, unfortunately, far from it...)
The Bug and the Pea each have a tiny 12" tree they decorate with tiny ornaments and place in their rooms. And of course we have our family Christmas tree.
We have a process, nothing that would ever be described as "military precision," yet it works for us. The husband hauls the ginormous cardboard box of branches down from the attic. He looks a bit Frankenstein-ish...holding the box against him, wrapping his arms around it, completely blinded as the box is bigger than he is, taking awkward steps forward. I shoo the kids out of his way to avoid certain death should the box crash and crush a child or two. Once the box is close to where the tree will be built, the husband collapses onto a kitchen chair.
The Bug and the Pea know the drill: organize the branches by length. They pull the artificial branches from the box and make piles all around the den. They examine the diagram instructions, and get to work. The Bug places the branches on the metallic tree "trunk" and the Pea "fluffs." The two finish the bottom few rows of branches andd then scramble to find stools. Standing on the stools they complete a few more rows. I help finish the top while they race to find the lights.
The husband plugs in each light strand and the Bug unrolls said strands across the kitchen floor. For a moment, our home looks like an airport runway, streaks of tiny lights line the lower level. The Pea is ready to light the tree! She picks up each strand and the husband circles the tree from the bottom to the top and back down again. The Bug and I smile, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
My most favorite part is the ornaments. Each ornament has a story. The glittery plastic ballet dancer from my babysitter when I was six. The teal felt star I made in Sunday School when I was in kindergarten. The Santa Claus ornament I bought with my allowance from the Santa Shop in elementary school. The plastic skis from my first (and not coincidentally...last) youth group ski trip. Ornaments from the year I graduated high school, college, first apartment, first house...first child. Ornaments celebrating the birth of the Bug, the birth of the Pea...ornaments we've begun to collect based on THEIR first experiences. My most favorite are the homemade ornaments. Dough shaped into gingerbread boys, feathers on paper doves, pipecleaner wreaths.
Strands of pearls are draped across the tree (primarily the lower portion, where the kids can reach...) The bottom branches are laden with the kids' favorites. The very top with our crystal and glass ornaments. To an innocent onlooker, the tree was thrown together in haste. With no attention to symmetry, balance, color coordination or theme. But to me, it's Christmas. A celebration of memories, tangible reminders of what I have become, of who I am, of who I've helped create, stories told with popsicle sticks and clothespins, yarn and felt, cottonballs and ribbon, fingerprints and fingerpaint...

Tiny Heart Whose Blood Will Save Us...

Each Christmas I give my parents a photographic journal. A “Year In The Life of The Mikovch Family,” so to speak. Technology makes it a breeze to download hundreds of snapshots. With the click of a button, those snapshots are published within a bound book. A few days ago, Andrew was looking through 2009’s photographic journal. As I was searching for wrapping paper, I heard…” Wow, I had forgotten that…” “THAT was this year?” “Hey, remember when…”
This was a fairly uneventful year for us, as far as years go. No births or deaths in the immediate family, no traumatic events, no huge crisis situations. And yet, hundreds of experiences, dozens of “firsts.” First horseback ride, first pair of pierced earrings, first day of third grade…and the list goes on and on. As the year draws to a close, I often find myself feeling empty. Drained from giving my all, day after day. Even at the end of a “normal” year, I’m worn out. I look to scripture for perspective. The story of a child, sent to give us hope. Hope and joy and an abundant life, here on earth and beyond.
Can you imagine a photographic journal of a year in the life of Jesus? Can you imagine Mary’s journal entries…The Angels Who Sang of Your Birth…The Night We Fled At Midnight To Escape Death. The more I think about what Mary, Joseph and Jesus must have endured, I can hardly bear it. And yet, they constantly gave glory to God. Regardless of the situation, regardless of the time of year, or whether they felt drained or empty.
During the holiday season, when I begin to feel overwhelmed, I often sing the words of my most favorite…albeit nontraditional…Christmas song: Welcome To Our World, by Chris Rice.

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking
How we need to hear from God
You've been promised, we've been waiting
Welcome Holy Child
Hope that you don't mind our manger
How I wish we would have known
But long-awaited Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence
Welcome to our world
Fragile finger sent to heal us
Tender brow prepared for thorn
Tiny heart whose blood will save us
Unto us is born
So wrap our injured flesh around You
Breathe our air and walk our sod
Rob our sin and make us holy
Perfect Son of God
Welcome to our world.

The song gives me such perspective. Perspective about our Savior, given to everyone. God’s child, all wrapped up in a baby blanket on Christmas morning. Glory be to God…

Film Projectors and Family Fireplaces...

For the past few weeks, I've been teaching a group of second graders about Caldecott Medal winners. For those of you out of the loop on Children's Lit, a Caldecott Medal is awarded to books with amazing illustrations. One of my favorite books ever is Robert McCloskey's Make Way For Ducklings. (I think we must have held the record for checking out that book from the Eline Branch of the Louisville Library! Mom read it to me and my brother so often...)
Yesterday, I found an old VHS video in the school library, a documentary on Robert McCloskey. Originally on film, it had obviously been rerecorded on video. The screen still showed the black spotted interference I remember when I used to watch reel to reel films at school in second grade. I had to smile as what was once on film, was being projected onto an Active Board (an interactive chalk board many schools are fortunate to have.)
The kids found it amusing, if not foreign. One scene showed Robert's family, sitting around a fireplace, playing musical instruments after dinner, before bedtime on the farm. In a world of computer video games and television, my second graders were confused. I asked if they ever played music after dinner with their family. They thought I was telling a joke, and laughed.
After school, we invited some neighbors over to play. I lit the fireplace to warm up the house. The Bug and The Pea settled down with their friends. I headed to my bedroom to change in to comfy clothes. When I emerged, I saw a group of girls lying on their tummies in a circle. Playing "Old Maid" with ginormous playing cards. Giggling up a storm, cozy by the fire. No television, no computers, no hand-held video games. Laughter and the crackling of flames.
I headed to the kitchen to slice up some apples and grab a bowl of caramel for dipping. When I returned the giggling girls had grabbed an assortment of musical instruments. And when I say assortment...I'm talking plastic recorder from a grandmother's basement, empty Pringles can for a drum, cardboard eukelele with rubber band strings from VBS, and our out of tune piano. The Pea was holding our hymnal and the kids were making a joyful noise unto the Lord.
Just doesn't get better than that...

Sunday Afternoon At The Castle...

So I'm upstairs, folding the first of many loads of laundry, and I hear a rumbling in what I guess to be our kitchen. Thump...thump...thump...slide...against the hardwood floor.
"UN-GAH!" The Pea shrieks.
"UN-GAH!" The Bug shrieks back.
Thump, thump, thump, slide....against the hardwood floor.
I continue putting the kids' clothes on hangers, assuming (hoping) that all is well downstairs. Normally, I would take a peek, but my list of "things to do" is a million miles long just to get back to what I would consider 'ground zero' to start the week.
(On a side note....I am mentally thinking evil thoughts about my friends who have posted on Facebook that their homes are spotless AND already decorated for Christmas!! Seriously?! Quit raising the bar for those of us who are still grazing on Halloween candy. Those of us who can trace our names in the dust build-up on our furniture. Not me, of course. I've just heard of such folks....)
Anyhoo....a few "UN-GAHS" later, I investigate the situation. The Bug and The Pea are dressed to the hilt. Gray plastic hats, plastic shields and inflatable swords (which, incidentally was the greatest Happy Meal treat EVER when POTC came out in theaters...).
The two are pretending to be knights, deep in battle. They are sliding across the floor and twisting and turning with miraculous-knight-like precision. It suddenly occurs to me that UNGAH means "On Guard!" and I chuckle.
At this point the Queen made an executive decision and banished her knights to the outside for a little leaf raking duty. After all, you can't beat a 70 degree day in November!
Just another Sunday afternoon at the castle...

The Radio Flyer Pirate Ship...

Today may be one of the most delicious autumn days ever. Or maybe it just seems that way because my girls are playing peacefully outside. I'm sitting on the porch, the breeze ticking my toes as I write.
Perhaps "breeze" is the wrong word. It's quite a windy day - blustery, as Winnie The Pooh would say. The kids are a sight. Just home from their flag football game, they still don muddy jerseys. They're wearing hot pink helmets, purple roller skates, and grass stained denim shorts. The Pea has raided our car wash "rag bag." Both are in prime 'inventing-mode.'
They stand side by side, holding an old pillowcase in front of them. Each child grabs two corners, and the pillowcase becomes a sail. The wind blows. The pillowcase billows. The girls begin to roll down our driveway, powered by the rushing wind. Giggling, the two retreat to the garage. I hear chatter and know they are at work in their Imagination Laboratory. The Pea skates over, announcing the Pirate Ship is almost complete. (Pirate Ship?) The driveway becomes a stage of sorts as the girls expand upon their energy idea.
From the garage emerges the cutest red Radio Flyer wagon Pirate Ship I've ever seen. The Bug has constructed four long strings by knotting together "potholder bands." (You know that little loom where you weave multicolored fabric bands into a potholder?) One end of each string holds a pillowcase corner, the other end is tied to the tip of the black wagon handle.
Unfortunately, the wind isn't strong enough to roll the Bug and the Pea down the driveway with the current ship structure. Frowns all around. The Pea sits at the helm and the Bug, gripping the handle, roller skates in front. Giggles. Daddy arrives on the scene to inspect the christening of the ship. Both girls hop inside. More giggles. With Daddy pulling the Radio Flyer Pirate Ship, they sail into the great beyond...well, around our neighborhood, anyway.

Mud Pies and Sunday Shoes...

There's no telling what folks must think when the Bug and the Pea arrive for school, or church or tag along with me on errands. The kids tell me it's much too EMBARRASSING to have their MOM (gasp) pick out clothes for them. So I don't. They manage to piece together creative combinations of shirts or pants or skirts or dresses with socks or tights or (their favorite) bare feet squished into tennis shoes or patent leather shoes or snow boots.
With the exception of Picture Day, pretty much "anything goes." I try to lay out very basic rules for matching tops with bottoms. (Now sweetie, I think this hot pink skirt would go nicely with this flowery blouse. I'm not sure the fire engine red shirt matches as well....) I've tried to explain about "neutral colors," to no avail. ("Honey, black pants match everything. You don't have to pick out a black shirt and black jacket and black socks and black boots to go with them. Maybe add a little color..." I suggested. And then I promptly e-mailed The Pea's teacher that I realized she looked like a 4 foot tall Ninja and just to "run with it"....)
And we're not much on pristine clothing...even if it DID match. Clean, yes. Spotless, no. It really doesn't bother me when the kids explore paint or dirt. In fact, the messier the better, if you ask me. My theory is "the messier your clothes, the better your day". I mean, seriously, who has more fun? The kiddo who comes home in a pristine outfit, who sat on the sidelines watching the other kids play? Or the kid who digs her barefoot toes into the soil to poke out a hole to plant the sunflower seedling she grasps in her dirt-covered hands?
Yesterday, the Pea headed outside in her church shoes hollering, "If you hear the hose turned on, it's just me making mud pies!"
Ah, good times...

Dem Bones, Dem Bones...

At our church, the first Sunday of each month all children 6 years and older stay for the entire worship service. (The other Sundays of the month, the children stay half of adult worship, and then head to their own children's worship service...)
The Bug and the Pea bring paper and pencil to worship. They've watched me enough to know that when our pastor begins his message, it's serious Scripture-Findin'-Note-Takin' Time. They haven't quite perfected their own note-taking skills. At this point, they try in vain to transcribe each word our pastor utters. After the first few sentences, they are exhausted and switch to doodling. Which, honestly, is fine with me. Because I know they are absorbing the message, even if they don't realize it at the time.
This morning was no exception. In the spirit of All Saint's Day, the pastor was honoring those who have gone to heaven before us. He spoke of death, and the importance of speaking about death. The scripture reference was Lazarus rising from the dead. It's not a pretty verse. Lazarus's sisters warn Jesus not to enter the tomb, after all, the smell of the decomposing body is rancid. Jesus is outraged at death, he weeps. The sisters grieve, they're angry at Jesus' late arrival.
The Pea squirmed, pretended she was sleepy, and laid her head on my shoulder. Nevertheless, I knew she was taking in every word. Tonight, at tuck-in time, the questions poured forth.
"Mommy, what does it feel like to die?"
"Do you know anyone who has died?"
I answered to the best of my ability, which many times included, "Sweetie, I'm just not sure..."
"Why do they bury dead people?"
"Who decided to put bones underground?"
"Why would people want to turn into ashes?"
It was a bit of a ghoulish conversation. But after a week of preparing for Halloween, I'm sure ghosts and skeletons and graveyards were on her mind, anyway. I hope I appeared very "matter of fact," inviting further conversation on any topic - regardless of the nature.
I began to wonder how in the world my sweet child would drift off after such a deathly discussion. When all of a sudden she proclaimed, "You know Mommy, I have 6 boyfriends and I am going to marry..." and then fell asleep mid-sentence.
Certainly nothing I'm going to mention to the Husband...or he'll never get to sleep...

Book Fairs in the Year 2009....Same ol' same ol'...

Last night our library completed it's week long fundraiser: The Book Fair. Unloading boxes and boxes of brand spankin' new books was delightful. The Book Company sends it's own shelving units resembling ginormous steel briefcases on wheels. The steel cases unlock on the sides, and open up, already pre-filled with brand new books. Of course, if you open the sides too fast, the unit is liable to crash forward and crush an unsuspecting child in the vicinity. Nevertheless, this is apparently the way it IS done and HAS been done forever. So I've just been very conscious of the precious little cherubs innocently browsing the shelves. Anyhooooo....

The Bug had her eye on one particular book, above all other books: The Guinness Book of World Records 2009. She counted out allowance money from her piggy bank, put piles of quarters on the cashier table and brought home The Prize. My first inclination was to guide her toward a different book. And then, I remembered....the tattered, red paperback book that I STILL have in a box in the attic: The Guinness Book of World Records. The only book I ordered from the Book Company when I was in elementary school (way back in the Dark Ages).

Now, back in the olden days the Guinness Book had all kinds of creepy pictures. The photograph that stands out in my memory is the one of the lady with the World's Longest Fingernails. They curled in spirals from her fingers down to her feet and back up again. GROSS. The new Guinness Book is in color and doesn't have any gross pictures, which is nice. It's full of facts like "The World's Biggest Fireworks Display" and other non-gruesome items.

This morning, the Bug followed me around the house and read OUT LOUD, page by page, from the Guinness Book. She was a little me, and I had to grin remembering the olden days...and my own little tattered red paperback treasure...

Stars, Shadow Creatures and Patio Pancakes

So we HAD to run some errands this evening, I figured it would be nice to have groceries in the house. Anyhooooo....by the time we arrived home, it was dark. The kids were mesmerized by the stars. The Pea ran inside and grabbed some quilts, the Bug dug out a flashlight. We met on the patio and snuggled up on the hammock. The Bug on my right, the Pea on my left. It was warm and toasty under the quilt. We stared at the stars and the Pea pointed out all of the "consternations" she could identify. Every now and then a blinking plane floated by and the Pea asked whether I figured the plane really hopped from star to star? "Mommy, God created ALL of those stars. They are in 'the heavens' just like my Bible verse in Genesis says!"
The squirmy Bug beside me jumped off the hammock, which in turn flung the Pea and me toward the patio rocks. We almost became patio pancakes! But I leveled the hammock before we went splat. The two of us were a bit catywampus under the quilt, but finally the hammock rocked to a rest. At this point, I noticed the Bug had propped the flashlight between the wrought iron of the patio chair. The light pointed toward the brick of the house, illuminating the perfect nighttime stage for Shadow Creatures. She experimented with a myriad of shadows. At one point, the Pea shouted, "Oh look! It's an eagle! Oh, no...I mean a car! Oh, wait...what is that?" Giggles, giggles, giggles. I snuggled closer and gazed upward at a million stars.
Just when I thought the moment couldn't get any better...the patio door opened. My husband was home, safe and sound after a long work day in another city. He grabbed up the Bug in one arm, and the Pea in the other, and carried them in the house. We tucked them in bed, under toasty quilts, to dream of the heavens and the earth and the 'star hopping' planes...

Cliffs STEEPED in Memories...

A few days ago the family ventured to the Virginia/West Virginia border. It was Fall Break, and the Husband decided it was time The Bug and The Pea discovered where he grew up. "When I was a kid....When I was a kid..." he'd say. They try to take it all in - to figure out what it was like.
We drive by the "old" house. "When I was a kid, Father and I would take cement and repair this stone wall....When I was a kid, we'd climb as high as we could to the top of this tree!" he gets a faraway look in his eye as he remembers.
"Look, girls! See that middle window? THAT was my room! No, not there, the MIDDLE window. No, we can't go inside. Someone else lives there now."
We drive up the road a ways. "Look up there girls, that's where I went to elementary school!"
"There?" they squint. "It's so small..."
"Well, it USED to be bigger. Or maybe it just seemed bigger. Hmmm. Looks like it's a business college now."
We drive further down the road. "Girls, that's where I went to high school. Well...most of high school. Before I moved to Kentucky. You know, I was on their very first Cross Country Team!"
This means nothing to the Bug and the Pea, but they smile obligingly.
"Honey," I say, "They don't know what Cross Country means..."
"Oh, running. Girls, I used to run in long races. After school we'd practice running, the other guys and me. We'd start right here..." He points out the window.
We drive up the road through a neighborhood.
"Girls, when we got to here...to this point...we'd STILL be running!"
The road turns to gravel as we head up the mountain.
"What was I doing NOW?" he asks.
"STILL RUNNING!" they reply in unison.
The car hugs the side of the mountain and the gravel rattles in the tire wells. I grab the handle on the car door, I can't bear to see how close we are to the edge of the cliff.
"What was I doing NOW girls? At this point on the mountain?" he asks.
"STILL RUNNING!" they chant.
The road winds around the mountain and I grip the handle tighter. We continue to drive and I begin to wonder if the road EVER ends, and if it does--how are we ever going to turn the car around without tumbling over the edge?
The Husband sees I'm ready for this literal trip down memory lane to end on flat terrain.
"Almost there..." he promises, and I loosen my grip.
"Your team must have been amazing - ALL of you ran up this mountain after school every day?" I conjecture. He grins. The path is a 5k...all uphill. I can see he's forgotten what a feat it actually was.
"Of course, I was skinny as a rail back then," he grins.
We finally reach the mountain top. It's barely big enough for our compact car to turn around. The Husband, The Bug and The Pea get out to investigate the peak. "Look at that view! You can see everything from up here!" I take their word for it, heights are not my gig. I silently pray the kids aren't scurrying toward the edge. I'm frozen and can't bear to look. A moment later, they pile back into the car.
"Once we touched that rock, we'd turn around and run back to the school. When we reached the school, Cross Country practice was over!" remembers the Husband.
"WE want to run down the hill!" the girls plead.
"NO!" I panic. The Husband grins. We cruise back down the mountain...in the car.
A little bit of history re-lived, a precious journey shared with two daughters.
"Now what?" asks the youngest...

Feelin' a Bit Poetical in the Blustery Wind...

The wind tide rushes toward crinkly leaves,
Leaves clinging to spindly branches.
The breeze catches my bare toes,
Tag You're It!
Off over the picket fence,
Begging me to follow.
The tide races back,
Slate storm clouds creep overhead.
Milkweed swooshes past,
Floating autumn snowflake.
Tiny glimpse of cornflower blue sky.
Red leaf para sailing from the highest bough,
Toward the newly whitewashed wrought iron chair.
The drums' rhythm meanders through the courtyard.
Trumpets herald the school fight song,
Storm clouds still tease.
The wind tide rocks the trees,
Not only the yellow and red, but the green one.
Green one with the slender curly leaves,
Leaning against the attic's shuttered pane.
Ivy vines hug tight the wood,
They mock the swaying monkey grass.
Grass as tall as me.
A single chirp of warning.
Rain is near.

At The Copa...Copa - Cabana...

So Big Blue, my eight year old Taurus, was side-swiped this week. As Big Blue heads to "the shop," the collection of CDs transfers to our borrowed car. (Thank you shout out to my mother-in-law for the loaner...) Absentmindedly, I grabbed a CD from the stack, put it in the car's CD player and hit the road. The music was a collection of John Denver hits.
I will tell you right now, I feel it is a sign of superior parenting that both the Bug and the Pea can belt out, "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" and "Country Road, Take Me Home..." while simultaneously playing 'air fiddle' and 'air banjo' in the backseat. Now don't get me wrong, they can also sing HSM I, II & III hits as well as Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana songs.
Growing up, my brother and I were mercilessly plagued with the likes of Barry Manilow hits on road trips. To this day, we can harmonize with the best of 'em: "Her name was Lo-la...She was a show-girl...with yellow feathers in her hair..." We teased my mother every time she put on the album or cassette. We'd roll our eyes. We'd give each other the knowing, "Here we go AGAIN," look. But before we knew it, we were tapping our feet and humming along, and then bursting out in full song, "At the COPA...COPA CABANA..." Ah. Good times.
I ran an errand by myself today, and the John Denver CD was playing in the car. Now that I'm older, I pay more attention to the lyrics. His songs are fun and lovely. "You Fill Up My Senses..." brings tears to my eyes. "Hey, it's good to be back home again..." makes me lonesome for my folks. But from this point forward, when I hear the Country Boy words about "Cakes on the griddle..." I can't help but think about the Pea, in the back seat, explaining to a carpooling friend, "Not Birthday Cakes, silly...it's PANCAKES!"

In Which The Kids Become Florence Nighten-Pea and Clara Bug-ton...

A few months ago the Bug and the Pea planted a garden. Initially, they placed sunflower seeds in plastic cups full of dirt. Those seeds burst through the soil, and were transplanted from the cups to the garden. They grew...and grew...and grew. The sunflower plants are enormous! They were taller than our fence and I enjoyed seeing them as I drove out of the driveway, away from the house each morning. They are now bending over and the flowers are full of sunflower seeds to be planted next year.
The Bug and the Pea make a sport of picking the seeds. They travel to the garden several times a day to harvest the seeds so that we'll have plenty for next year's garden. (And I'm fairly certain that the seven thousand seeds they have harvested will be PLENTY for next year's crop.) While picking the seeds, the kids have noticed inhabitants of the former sunflower plants. Caterpillars. EVERYWHERE. The caterpillars crawl up and down the stem and munch on the large green leaves.
The Bug and the Pea are mesmerized. Their little faces draw close to the caterpillars and eyes follow the fuzzy creatures up and down the stalk. When a caterpillar crawls under a leaf, the Bug squeals with delight, "He's going to EAT! He's going to EAT! QUICK! Come see!" Today, the children decided that seeing was not enough. They gently pulled caterpillars from the sunflowers and giggled as the caterpillars inched slowly up fingers and arms.
At one point, the Bug announced she was quite certain the caterpillars were (gasp) sick. All of them. Sick. Sick. Sick. The Pea sprang into action. Before I knew it, we had a miniature emergency room at our disposal. The kids fashioned teeny tiny hospital beds out of grass clumps. The Bug took an old sand pail and fastened on a jump rope. She threw one end of the jump rope over the beam on our playset and voila...a pulley system. The caterpillars were transported to the second floor of the hospital (i.e. the playset clubhouse) and medical supplies were lifted up via pulley from the ground level (i.e. the swing). The Pea would also send up ginormous sunflower leaves for the caterpillars to munch during their convalescence. Once the caterpillars were well, they were transported to the tray table attached to the grill. ("MOM! We're not GRILLING the caterpillars, they're just crawling ON the grill! Silly Mommy!)
Once the sun set, I told the girls it was time for "bath and bed!" They were hesitant to leave their posts. "Mom! We're nurses! They NEED us, even through the night!" I repeatedly assured the Bug and the Pea their patients would benefit from a good night's rest.
Finally, little Florence Nighten-Pea and Clara Bug-ton headed upstairs for a nice looooong soapy bath...

In Which The Bug and The Pea Concoct Bubbles...

Even as I type, the Bug and the Pea are making the most of a rainy afternoon. They plundered the laundry room in search of Bubble Soap and found nothing. (My children are mesmerized with blowing bubbles...to entertain themselves, and of course our next door neighbor's cat.) By the time I had reconstructed the laundry room, the girls had gone out to the garage to concoct their own bubbles.
On rainy days, we park our cars horizontally across the edge of the driveway. This provides a steel barrier between our children and the street. The Bug and the Pea have full run of the sheltered garage space, and may enjoy the rain in our yard and driveway. It would never occur to them to wear shoes or jackets. (Rain is something to be experienced, and how can you do that without bare feet?)
The house door is ajar, so I can keep an "ear out" for them, if not an eye out. The Pea has already warned me, "Mom, it would just be better if you stayed inside until everything is cleaned up. I mean it, no peeking!" (Not particularly comforting to hear from a first grader...) Every few minutes the Bug runs inside, and up the stairs, smuggling something back out to the garage. The Pea, likewise, runs inside to grab a roll of paper towels and some markers. I can see that the hand soap from our powder room is missing, so I'm sure the primary ingredient is actually soap. Which, I suppose, is a good thing. (You'd never want to find a child pouring radiator fluid into a container or anything of that sort...) Every now and then I hear an excited comment, "Look! We can make colored bubbles!" Wow. Just now I heard the hose being turned on from the side of our house.
The Pea just peeked in the door, "No worries Mommy! The garage is gonna be clean as a whistle!"
For some reason, I'm guessing this will NOT be the case...

In Which The Hand Me Downs Become Hand Me Ups...

It has happened. We knew it would. The Pea (my youngest) has surpassed The Bug (my oldest) in weight and height. Granted, we're only talking about part of an inch and a few pounds. Nevertheless, in their minds, this is SUBSTANTIAL. And it is, I suppose.
I buy pairs of everything. The girls have worn the same size for about a year now. This has made my life simpler in some ways -- I just grab two of said shirt, skirt or jeans when shopping at Wal-Mart, Target or TJMaxx (my favorite kiddo shopping grounds.) This has made my life more difficult in some ways -- what if the store doesn't HAVE two of the same item? (Like at TJMaxx, where a lot of times, there's only one item of that particular style or color in that particular size...) Last night I found some clearance uniforms for $4 bucks at Target. My children attend public school, however, in my mind - a khaki skort is a khaki skort. And two identical $4 khaki skorts belong in my shopping cart. As usual, I grabbed two of the same size.
After baths, the kids tried on their new clothes. The Pea's fit perfectly. The Bug's hung on her. I sewed darts on the Bug's (yeah, I got skills...) so that the skort would fit.
The Bug and I had a talk. My little brother was always "bigger" than me! She found some comfort in that...I tried to tell her it's all in the genes. I tried to tell her that someday, she'd appreciate being petite...maybe she'd even look younger than her younger sister. Unfortunately, these assurances were not extremely encouraging to a third grader.
Before bedtime we practiced the Bug's Bible Drill Team verses. Bible Drill is open to participants 8 years old and older. (A fact The Bug is pleased to announce daily). We went over a few passages, even did a few "mock" drills. She eventually drifted off to sleep, proud to be a part of something the "big kids" aspired to join....even if she was the littlest big kid member...

Krazy Kiosks

Today I had a Grown Up Girls Day with my friend MKK! (Shout out to my sweet friend!) Each year, we travel to Nashville and do some early Christmas shopping. Every now and then we treat ourselves to gifts. We peruse the aisles for beautiful blouses, dresses, skirts. Unfortunately for me, my sweet friend is about 80 pounds (soaking wet) and wears a size negative 2 petite. So she heads to one side of the store, while I head to the other. Nevertheless, we always meet back by the check-out counter with our 'finds'.
The kiosks lining the walkways of the mall never cease to amaze us. We've perfected "walking with a purpose" straight past the vendors trying to catch our eye. If our gaze happens to stray toward the kiosk, it's too late. We are accosted. "Mizz...let me ask you the one question. Those your real nails? You have the beautiful hands. Yez. Try theese special lotion."
We try being nice, "No thank you." We try looking down. We try talking loudly to each other as if in the midst of an amazingly important conversation. But sometimes, ya just have to look at the kiosk. It's like a train wreck. You KNOW you should look away, but you can't help it.
Today, in the MIDDLE of the mall, we saw: 1.) a lady having her eyebrows plucked (I am NOT making this up)...2.) a man getting a back massage...3.) a woman trying on hair extensions...4.) a grown man who had strapped rollerskating wheels to his tennis shoes...wheels that lit up multi-colored while rolling along...5.) a lady getting her hair straightened...6.) a man in a see-through coffin-like contraption getting a water massage. And all of this was BEFORE we even passed by the Food Court area, with legendary kiosks that we are particularly careful to avoid - like the one where the high school kid throws a boomerang-y like helicopter through the air. (Mark my words, one of these days that stinkin' helicopter is going to bop me upside the head...)
Nevertheless, it was a very productive day, and certainly fun to catch up with my sweet friend as we wandered from store to store. Toward the end of our day, I managed to 'check off' several folks from my Christmas Shopping List. You see, as we were heading out of the mall, we ran into the cutest little kiosk...

Too Stinkin' Old For School Photos...

Just when ya think you've left those days of really BAD school pictures behind you... a new school portrait rears it's ugly head (or rather, your ugly head...)
So I was walking by the faculty mailboxes this morning, and I noticed the proofs were back from yearbook pictures. Butterflies filled my stomach, because I just KNEW this portrait was going to be THE ONE. And when I say The One, I mean - the only decent school picture I have ever taken in the history of me having school pictures taken. No more glasses or braces or awkward nervousness, I'm a grown up now, by golly! Confident, cool, collected.
I reached into my cubby mailbox and pulled out... a picture of the living dead. I'm not even sure how (or why) I let myself out of the house looking like that!? I couldn't have been paler. And what in the world was that look on my face? Shock? Surprise? It's not as if I was caught off guard. I stood behind a long line of children to have my portrait taken, I KNEW what was coming.
My new Driver's License picture is not much better. (My birthday was this past week, and I was required to renew my license). I drove down to the courthouse in the afternoon. After the lunch crowd, before the 'last minute, they're gonna close' crowd. It was a beautiful day, I was in a smiley mood. I was the ONLY one in line, the only one. I had my renewal notice ready, my check written out...could not have made the whole process easier for the clerk. And yet, she literally GROWLED at me. "Back against the blue wall!" she grumbled, all of a sudden. "Excuse me?" I asked politely, I honestly didn't know what she was talking about. "The blue wall!" she growled. I turned around, the entire office was blue, it wasn't as if only one small part was marked. It finally dawned on me that she was ready to take my picture, and I scooted over toward the camera. The clerk shot me a look as if I was the one who was completely insane. I smiled at the camera, and stood smiling...for awhile. She was typing something, then writing something, then she was walking around. I stopped smiling, clearly she wasn't ready to take the picture. FLASH. Seriously? What did she have? A remote to the camera? A sixth sense about when to snap the most awful picture possible?
Anyhoooo.... The Pea brought home her proofs too. God love her. The sweet thing looks like she's doing 'hard time' for a heinous crime. The Bug's proofs must be coming home tomorrow, heaven help us.
The moral of this story: There Is No Such Thing As A Good School Picture.
Nevertheless, hope springs eternal. And I will be first in line for "make up" pictures in two weeks...

Public Potty World

Why go to an amusement park when it is, apparently, JUST as much fun to visit the nearest public restroom? This is a quandary I've often pondered. I keep telling myself, 'It will pass..., it's just a phase.' And then I realize I've been telling myself that year after year.
The Bug and the Pea are drawn to public toilets like moths to a flame. Before we leave the house, we always ALWAYS go potty. Nevertheless, by the time we arrive at our destination, "Mommy, I promise I went at home, but I gotta go potty again...BAD." (Oy.) So we all traipse off to the potty and the fun begins.
Today was my birthday. It was an absolutely lovely day and after church we went out to eat. I picked the place...my favorite restaurant. What a treat!
We had barely darkened the doors, when the announcement was made that we HAD to go to the potty.
"Why," I ask, "Must we touch absolutely everything in our path?"
"What do you mean, Mommy?" says the Pea as her finger traces along the gritty tiled wall until she reaches the stall door and thoroughly examines the lock.
"Stop touching everything! You'll get germs!"
The Bug replies, "Mommy, I can't get this foot trash can thing to work, so I'll just use my hand to push this pedal thing down here..."
"What in the world do you have that needs to be thrown away?"
"Well, nothing..." As she reaches out to manually close the foot operated trash can with both hands.
"Let's just all use the potty, wash our hands and be on our way."
I won't go into depth about the many parts of the toilet that both the Bug and the Pea touched during the actual process. Sufficed to say, that I was glad when everyone had properly relieved themselves and we headed to the sink.
"Wash your hands!" was my proclamation. "Lots of soap and water!" I say as I turn the faucet with my elbow.
The girls reach for the soap dispenser. They manage to touch all over the container, the wall beside the container, and finally the lever that releases the soap...
At which point we discovered, sadly, that the dispenser was completely,
empty...

Splinters and DRAMA...

Tonight, the Pea zoomed through the front door, traveling at the speed of light. "Moooooooooommmm! I need you, I NEED you!" My heart skipped a beat, worrying that someone was hurt. It was getting close to dark outside, and a handful of kids from the neighborhood were playing in the yard. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!" (Oy.) "Look! The biggest splinter in the world!" The Pea shoved her palm in my direction. Splinter? Is THAT all?! I thought to myself. Come to Mama!
Needles don't frighten me, in fact, I have quite an odd fascination with splinter removal. Surprisingly enough, I would have made an amazing surgeon. Except for the whole "blood coming out of the body" thing that leaves me in a weepy, well...unconscious...state on the gurney. (note: see previous blog regarding poor phlebotomist matched up with me for lab work) It's true! My freshman year of high school, my biology teacher watched me dissect seven specific (read into this: teeny tiny) parts of a cricket. He swore I was a surgeon in the making. (Of course, I imagine his mind quickly changed the following week when I fainted during the opening credits of a childbirth documentary...) Anyhoooooo...
Splinter removal is the perfect opportunity to use my non-blood-surgical skills. I assembled my tools like a professional. Cotton balls, peroxide, needle. Primarily for dramatic effect, I sterilized the needle by holding it over a flame. The Pea wasn't so sure this whole process was a good idea. However, her opinion changed significantly once I allowed her to hop up on the vanity counter top in preparation for the surgery.
From the howling, gasping, sighing, and wiggling...you would have thought I was beating the poor child. (And all that was BEFORE I even used the needle...while I was sterilizing stuff...geez.) When it was time to get down to business, I was the Master. Gentle, precise, compassionate. The perfect combination of bedside manner with surgical skill. Quick and accurate. I removed the ginormous splinter and held it for the Pea to examine. Success. I began to pat myself on the back, wipe the sweat from my brow, prepare a few modest words of self-congratulation.
By the time I turned around, the Pea had hopped off the vanity and fled back out the door to play in the last moments before darkness fell.
And all was right with the world....

Sugar Plum or...What's The Big Deal About Last Names Anyway?

Remember a kazillion years ago when each library book had a tiny manila envelope taped to the inside of the back cover? There was a vertical index card placed inside said envelope, and the librarian would use a dated ink stamp to mark when the library book was due back. Nowadays, we have all kinds of new fangled tech-y stuff.
For example, each book has it's very own bar code (how clever is that?) When a child wants to "check out" a book, I search my computer for the student's name (last name first...), use a bright red (way cool) laser to scan the book's bar code and beep-beep... the information is recorded electronically. In this Star Trek-esque manner, I'm able to track which of my 800 sweet babies have which of the 14,000+ books from the elementary school library. (For a gal who still uses her college jam-box and VCR...this high tech stuff is pretty sweet).
Sadly, my computer was "down" today. I'm not casting any blame, mind you. We just had a 3 day weekend, it was hard for me to wake up this morning, too. Hence Plan B: the good ol' fashioned method of writing everything down on paper. The students would come in, choose their books, and tell me their names. I would write down said names, said bar code numbers, and send said students on their way for a little bit of quiet reading...("Level Zero Boys and Girls! Yes, sweetie, I see you have a boo-boo on your knee. No, sweetie, we do not balance books on our heads. Let's read to ourselves. No, no, quietly...'read in your head', baby doll, not out loud. Level Zero!")
For the older students, this wasn't a big deal. But for the younger kiddos, the whole "check out process" was a calamity. Now, don't get me wrong... they were able to choose their books, and they were able to line up fairly quietly. It was the whole NAME thing that threw them off kilter. When my computer is awake and functioning, I can scroll through class rosters...if I can understand at least one syllable of what the child claims is his/her name, I'm in good shape.
Me: What's your name sweetie?
Kiddo: Choley Bee
Me: Who's your teacher, baby doll?
Kiddo: (Looks to classmate, bewildered...classmate confers...they decide on an answer) Foyd
Me: (Scrolling down class roster of Mrs. Ford's kindergarteners) Charlie?
Kiddo: No, Chooollleeeyyyy
Me: (Scroll to next guess...) Gary?
Kiddo: No, Choley
Me: Oh! Joey Bryant!
Kiddo: (smiles, takes book and scoots out of the way for the next child in line...)
Having NO computer to work with, this process became quite comical...and lengthy. Grasping at straws...yet fearing it would lead to disaster... I began to ask for Last Names. (Gasp.) One child into the process, I realized this was a mistake. And yet, such a pleasant mistake it was...
The sweet, sweet, baby doll next in line swore up and down her last name was Sugar Plum.
Me: Whats your name sweetie pie?
Kiddo: Emily
Me: Do you know your whole name?
Kiddo: Emily Sugar Plum
Me: Do you know your Last name, sweetie?
Kiddo: Sugar Plum
Me: (Admitting defeat, I scribbled down 'Emily'...smiling...hoping I'll be able to figure her last name out... at some point... through the process of elimination.)

I mean, seriously, how many 'Emilys' can there be out there?
Guess I'll find out tomorrow,
if the computer is back up and running...

Dusting Off Album Covers...

Grandma and Granddad set up a table and some chairs in a corner of their basement. Paints, brushes, and sketch pads are stacked on the table. The girls make a beeline for their "art gallery," especially when cousins are also visiting.
This morning-- the morning after my cousin's wedding -- we were all gathered in Grandma and Granddad's basement. My nieces dug through the "dress-up" box and donned Police Woman and Cowgirl costumes. The Bug and The Pea were painting masterpieces. Mom and I were dusting off album covers and laughing as the memories rushed back...
Olivia Newton John - Let's Get Physical - exercising, age 6, in my black ballet leotard beside Mom
Bye Bye Birdie - Kids! What's The Matter With Kids These Days? - Mom and I still pretty much have that song down pat!
Grease- We Go Together, Like Shu-bop-shu-wanna-wanna-hippety-boom-dee-boom! (Shout out to the DCHS Spring '89 production of Grease in which I portrayed Patty "Don't you just LOVE the first day of school!" Simcox.)
Annie - How many times did I sing "It's a Hard Knock Life For Us!" in front of my dresser, hairbrush microphone in hand?
We sorted through Beatles albums - a moment of silence for the greatness...enough said.
Next, we stumbled upon the creme de la creme of albums (considering current events...) Michael Jackson's Thriller.
I put the album on the turntable and propped the album cover on the storage shelf.
The girls turned my direction for a moment, and then went back to playing.
I cranked up the volume and pointed to The Pea in a Quiz Show MC fashion--Singer? I asked.
"Michael Jackson" (Good girl! Raising her right!)
"Song?"
"Beat It" she replied, and then went back to her painting.
"Come dance with me!" I spun around.
"Uh, what are you doing Aunt Leigh?"
"This here, this is called Break Dancing!" I shouted as I did my own rendition of The Wave. Oh, I was on FIRE!
"Beat It! Beat It! No one wants to BE Defeated!" I was crackin' and poppin'.
The Pea got up, dragged out the Karaoke microphone and handed it to me.
"It doesn't matter who's wrong or right! Just Beat It!"
My policewoman-clad niece started jotting something down on a pad of paper.
"You better watch out, Aunt Leigh. Next thing you know, you're gonna need to get a hip replaced. It happened to Barry Mannilow!"
The song ended, and my full attention turned to my niece.
"Here you go!" She chirped happily, handing me the piece of paper.
I looked down...my policewoman niece had just written me out a ticket for -
Bad Break Dancing...

Conundrumzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Conundrum: Why must the cherubs wake up BEFORE the roosters even think about waking up on weekENDS ...when they struggle to leave for school at 7 a.m. each weekDAY morning?
Oh, they know NOT to come into Mommy and Daddy's room early. Saturday mornings are sacred "sleep in and stay in your jammies while you eat your pancakes" mornings. But perhaps that is opposite of what we should be enforcing?
Because they do NOT pounce on us early on Saturday, we are forced to mentally guess what is going on in the den. "What was that CRASH?" "Is that an elephant I hear jumping off the couch?" "Tell me that was NOT the entire gallon of milk spilling on the carpet!?"
Or even worse...complete quiet. "What are they UP TO out there?" "Why did they just peek in and CLOSE our bedroom door?" "Do I hear a kitchen chair being dragged across the floor to the pantry?"
I love that my kids have crazy wonderful imaginations. But is it necessary to concoct chemistry experiments using a combination of cooking oils, dish detergents, markers, paint and bubble bath?
I thought kids were supposed to sleep in on Saturday mornings and then snuggle up on the couch and watch Disney cartoons?
I love sleep. I love, love, love sleep. Mom tells me she used to have to wake me up from my nap just in time to tuck me in bed for the night. My point: I have always been this way.
The Bug and The Pea? Not so much.
I can count on one finger the times the two took a simultaneous nap when they were toddlers. (And this was only because they were exhausted with a stomach bug....and of course, I wasn't able to accomplish anything during said simultaneous nap, as I too was plagued with sickness....)
The good thing about this whole "NO resting at any point during the day" situation, is that we've fairly consistently maintained a 7:30 - 8:00 p.m. -ish bedtime. And nothing is more sweet than tip-toeing down the stairs after tucking in the little cherubs. Because beginning at 8:01...that is Mommy and Daddy time...time to discuss the events of the day, to grab a book and a cup of hot tea and read...to...to...to...
SLEEP....

Always, Always, Always Clarify...

Many important conversations occur between the Bug and the Pea from the backseat of our car. They climb in, buckle up, and often...if my prayer for a moment of peace and quiet has been answered by the Almighty...they forget I'm even there.
Yesterday, on a drive home, they were contemplating what "kind" of girls they were - when given three options. Would they describe themselves as Tomboys? Girly Girls? or Foxy Girls?
Silently, I kept driving.
The Bug piped up: I'm probably a Tomboy. I like sports and to run. In the olden days girls couldn't play sports like they do now, so they were Tomboys.
The Pea: And girls couldn't vote, and in the long time ago times, only boys could be in plays. Because of Elizabeth the First, she was a queen, ya know.
The Bug: So are you a Tomboy too?
The Pea: No
The Bug: A Girly Girl?
The Pea: No
The Bug: Then what are you?
The Pea: I'm a Foxy Girl!
Me: Oh, really? What IS a Foxy Girl?
The Pea: A girl who can run faster than a boy, vote and act in plays on stage!
(Moral of this story: Before you panic... always, always, always clarify!)

A few weeks ago, The Bug and The Pea were accompanying me to the grocery store. I told them to get on their flip-flops and load up in the car. I overhead the two conversing.
The Pea: I know how to get boys to like you!
The Bug: Be mean to them?
(A brief side note...I had earlier informed the girls that sometimes when a boy teases a girl, he does so because he likes her...)
The Pea: nope
Me: (Sweet merciful heavens, what is going to come out of her mouth?) How DO you get a boy to like you?
The Pea: BOOTS. Ya gotta wear boots.
And she proceeds to zip up her black knee length boots in the middle of July...
(Moral of the story: before you panic ... always, always, always clarify!)

Code Blue In The Library ICU

I'm settling in to my home away from home, sacred place o' books. And not just ANY books, children's books. Thousands upon thousands of children's books line the shelves of our friendly elementary school library. The books are rapidly becoming a part of my family, under my watch and care. My responsibility to keep track of, to protect.

As each class descends upon the library, the books leave their shelves and travel home with children on an adventure....so that the children, themselves, may travel on a virtual adventure. I gather books back on the shelf, only to see other books leave on new journeys.

Today I learned how to repair worn, torn book covers. Gingerly, I worked with the covers to mend them. My work table became a Book Hospital as I performed surgery on the well loved books. I tended them slowly and gently, replacing ripped plastic with shiny clear covers. Securing the covers with special tape, and reinforcing each "call letter" ensuring the book would be returned to it's proper home.

I recognized, fondly, one of the books in the Library ICU. The Horse And His Boy, by C.S. Lewis from the Chronicles of Narnia. The Chronicles were the first books I ever read...ever. I smiled thinking I might be preserving this copy for another little girl or boy. So that they, too, may fall head over heels in love with reading...

Star Struck: Part Deux

Little Bug and Pea, you are probably waiting for me to tell you how I passed the course with flying colors! Unfortunately, that was not the case. I kissed the Dean's List goodbye when your Daddy started helping me with business classes. (How could I concentrate? it was impossible to tear myself away from those syrupy eyes, from that grin, that laugh!) From that point forward, we were inseparable.
With Christmas approaching, I set up a tiny artificial tree in my dorm room. I wove a strand of colorful lights around the branches. When the room was dark, the tree glowed as if lit up by stars. I remember your Daddy knocking on the dorm room door one evening. The Christmas tree was shining and he took me in his arms and we danced in the silence. In that moment, I was certain - beyond a shadow of a doubt - we were destined to spend our lives together. Fate revealed in that ordinary moment...in the quiet of a dormitory, before a tiny plastic tree.
A few years later, your father and I spoke our wedding vows. The Twins were attendants that Valentine's Day weekend. Glittering strands of lights adorned the ceremony. It was as if tiny stars were woven through the greenery, the trees, even the bridge just outside the church. Peering back through the years, if it hadn't been for that particular Advisor, I would never have signed up for Astronomy. If it hadn't been for Astronomy, I never would have noticed the Twins. If it hadn't been for the Twins, I never would have met Drew. And to this very day, my heart skips a beat when he enters the room. So you see, the stars did lead me to your Daddy.
You two are growing up so fast. You'll always be my little Princesses, my Bug and my Pea. I pray you'll fall in love with your own Prince someday. I pray God will place a soul mate in your path. I can't wait to hear your stories of fate, destiny and stars aligning for the sake of true love. Perhaps your story will begin on a very normal day, in a very ordinary moment. An ordinary moment you'll fondly recall as the most magical moment of all...

I love you,
Mommy

Star Struck: Letter to the Bug and the Pea

Every time I blink, another year passes. I watch as the two of you stand before the mirror on a Sunday morning. Helping each other button church dresses, slip on sparkly earrings, try new lip gloss. I lean back against the door frame, and remember endless days of "Princess" dress up. Make believe stories of mystical magical times. Fairies with wands, witches with spells and the Frog you just knew was a Prince. Fate and destiny and stars aligning for the sake of true love. I'd definitely advise against kissing frogs. But the 'stars aligning' part? That part is real. The stars led me to your Daddy.
You're probably picturing the Wise Men and baby Jesus, am I right? How the Wise Men from the East followed the star to Bethlehem, to worship the Lord. Well, it didn't quite happen like that with me and your Dad. Often fate and destiny reveal themselves in a very ordinary way. We make regular choices on a regular day, and our lives are changed forever. Just because the choices are normal, that doesn't mean they are any less magical. I'm certain God played a big role in matching us up. He knew, even before we were born, that our paths would cross and we would fall in love. God is in the business of placing people in our paths for a reason, it's up to us what we do with that opportunity.
Your Daddy moved to the southwestern part of Kentucky in August of 1988. That very same week, I moved to the northwestern part of Kentucky. Looking back, we figure we had to have crossed paths at school soccer games, but the stars weren't yet aligned. When I was 17, I registered for classes at the University of Kentucky. I declared a Business Major and I suppose it was less by chance and more by test scores that I ended up at the University for early registration. I sat in a small desk in the midst of a gigantic classroom. I fiddled with my pencil, hoping my expression didn't betray my nervousness. My schedule was complete, I needed only choose a science credit to satisfy undergraduate requirements. The advisor suggested Astronomy, sounded good to me. I signed up without a second thought and headed on to the next session.
Fast forward to Astronomy Fall midterms, I always managed to walk into class at the same time as those identical twins! Fast forward to February, I head into the cafeteria for a quick bite to eat. I make a bee-line for the one empty chair in the place. Of course it's a table with the twins and another fellow. (Why are we always at the same place at the same time?) "Oh, this is Drew. We grew up together in Bluefield." I look up from my tray and my heart skips a beat. I'm lost in his syrupy brown eyes, dark curly hair and impish grin. He has a laugh that comes from the depths of his soul. I would love to say something, but can't remember how to speak.
Fast forward to Fall semester, moving into the dorms. My roomie and I chose the air conditioned co-ed dorms. In the sweltering Kentucky sun, air conditioning is a luxury worth requesting. Our room is on the first floor, the boys head past our room and up a flight of stairs. I look up from unpacking, it's HIM. HE lives here, too.
Accounting 101, my personal nightmare. I absolutely have to pass to continue in Business. Enter Drew, blue button-down oxford, Levi jeans, down the stairs and through the hall. "You know, I'm not bad at accounting. I could help you out." Gulp. Can't speak. It's so hard to concentrate on accounting. I can't tear myself away from those eyes, from that grin. First time I ever scored below an A.
Goodbye Dean's List...
Hello love...

(to be continued!)

You Say It's Your Birth-day? It's My Birthday Too, Yeah!

Today is the husband's birthday. I had no trouble rousing the Bug and the Pea in the wee hours of the morning. As soon as their eyelids opened, they sprung into action. The Bug - much more a 'morning person' than, well...anyone I have ever met in my life - raced downstairs. The Pea followed close behind, albeit a bit groggily.
They pounced on their Daddy, who is most decidedly NOT a morning person, waking him up with tickles and kisses and hugs and LOUD singing. Once he realized A.) it was his birthday B.) he was not under enemy attack and C.) the kids would be off to school in a few minutes...he arose from the bed like Lazarus from the dead. The husband staggered into the den, willing his eyes to open. The Bug led him to a spot on the couch, and The Pea ran to the stash of gifts. The two agreed he may open a few presents in the morning and the rest at supper. (After all, he had clearly been waiting with baited breath for a WHOLE YEAR for this!) I told them they may choose any gift except the one in the very center of the table. At which point The Pea yelled out, "Good idea! Let's SAVE THE UK SNUGGIE FOR DADDY TO OPEN TONIGHT!" (So much for the kids' uber-surprise gift...)
The husband opened two packages, a belt and an oxford button-down shirt. The girls squealed with excitement, Daddy was still trying to remember his name. (Hadn't had his coffee yet.)
Before we knew it, the time came to leave for school. The Bug and The Pea hopped happily to the car, dreaming of Daddy's imminent joy upon opening the 'surprise' present tonight at dinner.

The Night Before Shelving...

'Twas the night before my new library job,

And all through the house...

not a creature was stirring,

unless you count my snoring husband...

(who is MUCH louder than a mouse).

The Pea and the Bug are tucked safely in bed,

dreaming, no doubt, of the stories we just read.

Policies and procedures, insurance and W-4s,

are scattered on tables, stacked on the floor.

Clean clothes are laid out, and backpacks are full.

After all, tomorrow is Picture Day at school.

Can't wait to arrive in that place I'm so fond...

To shelve books and read with kids in hallowed

halls of The Pond.

Spiritual Magnetism & A Car Ride To First Grade

I suppose it's a sad state of affairs, but many thoughts swirling around the mind of my first grader baffle me. I give her only honest answers, and many times I concede "I just don't know, sweetie." (Once, on the drive to school, she asked yet another confusing philosophical question. Upon my admission of ignorance, The Pea matter-of-factly commented, "You really don't know too much do ya Mom?" But I digress...) Nevertheless, she challenges me to further ponder spiritual questions in the hopes of conveying some semblance of understanding.
Tonight's "tuck in" was no exception. She threw out a metaphor I'll have to explore further. Love and human flesh and instinct and choice, on many different levels.
The Pea tackled me with a Good-night hug. (Complete with giggles, the best kind!)
"Oh, what a super hug that was Little Sweet Pea!"
"Of course Mommy! They always are, because of the magnets!"
"The magnets?"
"Our HEARTS Mommy" (Insert eye roll from first grader...)
"Our hearts?"
"MOM!" (Insert, 'You really don't know too much do ya?' look) "Our hearts are the magnets that bring us together. That's why we can't help but give really good hugs!"
Sometimes I could gobble that precious little girl right up!

Amen Kind of Sunday - The Day in Phrases...

Rise and shine!
Get on your dresses, go potty and load up.
"I can walk to my own class! You're embarrassing me!"
Passel of girls in the pew.
World's LOUDEST whispers during worship.
Taco lunch with family friends on patio tables.
Cloudy breezy Sunday.
Two little ducks trailing their Mamma.
Only it's their Daddy.
And everyone is on a bike.
Tomato harvest.
Sidewalk chalk masterpieces.
Chocolate chip cookie dough, three dozen cookies, hot from the oven.
Hamburgers, hot dogs, new faces, church picnic.
Singing Deacons, Preacher preachin', Brothers and Sisters of all different colors.
Can I get a witness?
Amen.

Kazoo-ology 461: Graduate Course

It's fun to live in a college town, especially during August. There's a certain excitement in the air as thousands of new students descend upon the university. The Bug and The Pea are perpetually immersed in college life. Their sitters are kids from our church's university ministry, many of their friends' parents are on staff. Between holiday events, football & basketball games, choir concerts, school programs, and summer camps...the Bug and the Pea know their way around campus better than I do.
Today we ventured to the Alpha Delta Pi house to help members practice for the Formal Recruitment "Getting to Know You Party"...or what was called Rush Open House in the olden days! I told the girls we were playing a dress-up game where we pretended to be college kids ourselves. (This thrilled them to no end as they ADORE college students.)
They immediately concluded irrevocable career decisions MUST be made...now, this instant! If we were going to pretend to be college students, we must decide what we were going to be! You know, when we grow up! And thus, the Bug and the Pea fell to narrowing down a field of study as they pinned back their hair and donned party dresses.
The Bug decided to pursue art...or teaching...chemistry...or that ol' standby: dentistry. The Pea was not so sure. Her first thought was theater and then possibly ice skating. She was more concerned about the amount of undergraduate credits necessary to achieve a degree. "Mommy, do I have to go to school as many years as my uncle?" (Who is the resident geneticist at a different university...) "No, baby doll, for many careers four years worth of college study does the trick!" She pondered this. "Well, Mommy, there are some things I already KNOW how to do, so I might not need to go so long." The Pea disappeared upstairs to her room and I continued getting ready.
A few minutes later, the Pea reappeared with a laundry basket full of toys. "See, Mommy? Look at all of these!" She proceeded to explain she had decided on a career in music. When I asked which instrument was her favorite, she hesitated. "I'm quite good on this thing you tap." (She held up a toy xylophone.) "And I can sure play the guitar." (She held up her cardboard ukulele from a previous Vacation Bible School program.) "Well, and the Bongo drums." (I have no idea where THAT came from...) "But what I think I'll choose is that instrument that you blow into!" I replied, "A flute? Clarinet?" "No, no," said the Pea. She reached deep into the laundry basket. "This!" she proclaimed, "A Kazoo!" Pleased with herself, she paraded out of the room.
Kazoo-ology...I don't think there are graduate studies for that?

Hooded Towels and Cozy Toes...

The owner of a restaurant the husband and I frequented...and when I say 'frequented,' I mean 'inhaled meals an average of 5 out of 7 days a week'...once shared a memorable insight: Every Age Is The BEST Age. I've thought of that often. When your kids are tiny, you think that it can't possibly get any better, and then they learn to walk and you think it can't possibly get any better! And then they are potty trained and you shout Hallelujah and know it can't get any better! And then they begin to have conversations with you, and become little ladies and you think...wait! It just doesn't GET any better than this! Every Age Is The BEST Age.
Those around me know that I am a HUGE fan of growing up. I LOVE that my girls are turning into independent young ladies, right before my eyes. Both of my children were in "big kid beds" soon after they turned one. Once they outgrow their clothes, said clothes are passed on to others. I gave away all of their "baby things" as soon as they were finished using them...high chairs, strollers, car seats, etc. I have never had the desire to hang on to those material things. I've applauded each new step...new schools, new milestones of childhood. I'm rarely sentimental about things. (Now, photographs I protect like Fort Knox. I have Baby Books, Scrapbooks, Photo Albums galore...those are among my treasures.)
This struck me as odd the other day as I was gathering up laundry. I picked the kids' towels off the hooks on the back of the bathroom door. Big Hooded Towels. My children are definitely old enough to have left the hooded towels behind. And yet, I can't bear to part with them yet. Following a sudsy bubble bath, I LOVE wrapping up my kiddos in their hooded towels. The Bug's towel has a duck on the hood, and the Pea's towel has puppy dog ears. (Stinkin' adorable!) Nothing like a clean and cuddly kid slipping into some PJ's at the end of a long day.
The only moment that might possibly top the towels, is the snuggly tuck-in moment. I'll crawl into bed with a little one to read a story. And she'll curl up against me, warm and cuddly with her cozy toes touching my knees.
Just doesn't get any better than that...

AAlll-abama...Alaaaaska...Ari-zona...AArkansas...

Songs are an ingenious way to memorize information. When I was eight, my Sunday School teacher taught me a song listing every single Old Testament book, in order. To this day, when I'm looking up scripture, I sing that tune in my head. Genesis, Exodus, Le-vi-ti-cus, Numbers and Dootrimy...(Deuteronomy was too long to sing all of the syllables, so we improvised.)Joshua, Judges, Ruth, Sam-u-el One and Two, First Second Kings...etc.
The Pea came home the first day of school, having already memorized the seven continents. She sang the Continent Song gleely the rest of the week...and the week after...and, but I digress. This week, she is learning the names of the 50 states in order. I'm quite impressed, and plan to learn along with her.
She's learning a song the Bug learned two years ago. "The Fifty Nifty United States." I actually remember my college roomie singing that song. (Shout out to LTP!)When she and the Bug are together, they sing The Fifty Nifty United States as fast as they can, racing through the state names, in alphabetical order, in well under a minute. I must admit that I frequently find myself humming about the "Thir-teen O-ri-ginal COL-O-NIES!"
I wow-ed my fourth grade teacher when the class was challenged to present a poem by heart. I selected a ginormous poem by A. A. Milne. I can still quote it from memory. The poem was also made into a silly song and sung by a group of brothers. My mother had the vinyl album. I would play the album over and over and over again on my little electric blue record player. (Quite the diva belting out verses in front of my dresser mirror). It was a complete coincidence that I knew the song (and consequently the poem) by heart when we were assigned the presentation. Instead of singing the song in front of my class, I spoke the words.
Tomorrow morning I have a root canal appointment. You may have guessed that I am NOT looking forward to said adventure. I've packed The Bug's hot-pink-silver-glitter MP3 player and I plan to jam to The Jonas Brothers, Hannah Montana and selected Patriotic Songs that The Bug has added...(The Pea will sing along, "You're a Grand Ol' Flag, You're A Hot Roddin' Flag!")Should the pain of the drill be too much for the tween repertoire, I may find myself racing through ginormous poems, Colonies and trusty Dootrimy...

In Which The Bug and The Pea Become Scientists...

The Bug and The Pea have taken a siesta from yarn jewelry. Tonight was self-proclaimed Chemistry Night. My first clue should have been the absolute quiet, intermittently pierced with the sound of scurrying feet. I retreated to my room in search of Advil for a toothache. (Apparently a root canal is in my immediate future.)I gave in to the temptation of my pillow for what I told myself would be a 5 minute rest.
When I awoke, the house was a science lab. Bubbles were, literally, floating through the air in the den. Empty bubble bottles had been filled to the brim with new concoctions. The kitchen table and countertops were covered with various containers of liquid/gel. The Bug and the Pea gathered Baby Wash, Shampoo, Dish Detergent, Clothes Detergent, Aloe (heaven help me), Hand Soap, Hand Lotion and Sun Tan Lotion. They were measuring portions into the (formerly) empty bubble bottles, adding water, and stirring. Once the chemistry experiment was complete, the girls would dip the bubble blowers into the new solution and attempt to create sparkly floating orbs. When the results fell short of the hypothesis (read into this: few bubbles)the Bug and the Pea didn't lose heart. They grabbed several dishtowels and applied the solution. Hoping to surprise me with a "clean" kitchen, the kids scrubbed the floors...well, bits of the floor, bits of the table, bits of the countertop. And if it hadn't been for the aloe and the lotion, it probably would have worked.
Sweet, sweet baby girls. Sticky, sticky kitchen floor...

The Lure of The Craft Aisle...

Have you ever walked in Wal-Mart with a one item grocery list(juiceboxes)and walked out of Wal-Mart with, say... a dinette set? As you may have guessed, the leftover "cat needlepoint project" yarn met it's untimely demise last evening as I was showered with all sorts of yarn jewelry. I did need milk and butter, so living up to my nickname, I headed to the store that would also sell yarn. (My sweet little friend RKR calls me the "Craft Mom.")
I'm immediately drawn like a magnet to the craft area. I stand in front of the supplies and literally find myself planning wedding receptions...Oh what a cute silk flower, that would look lovely on a place card setting, with a little bunch of candies, wrapped in a bit of tulle...and I have no NEED to plan any wedding activities. So I move over to the next aisle and decide that the girls' rooms would look oh so sweet with ivy stenciled across the walls and I begin to load up my cart. Seriously! Then I realize that I don't know how to stencil and the kids' rooms are fine the way they are, but oh, look at that sweet pattern of material! Wouldn't that make a comfy sundress for the Bug and the Pea? And after I've unrolled the fabric, I remember that I can't sew.
So I was in my own world of browsing the craft area, planning weddings, stenciling walls and sewing when I stumbled across some clearance craft items. I love clearance craft projects. (Let's face it, I love clearance everything!)I found three separate types of kits for creating pipe cleaner animals. (I'm not making this up!) Side note: can you imagine the training a Wal-Mart associate must endure? Pop Quiz: In which aisle would a customer locate a Do-It-Yourself Pipe cleaner Noah's Ark?
One kit contained items for creating jungle animals out of pipe cleaners, one for farm animals, and (cracking me up!)one for Noah's Ark animals - in which there were pairs...male and female animals. I mean SERIOUSLY who thinks up this stuff? What crazy entrepreneur decided pipe cleaner animals were necessary in life?
I am proud to say I remembered to purchase the milk and the butter and some multi-colored yarn so the girls can earn their keep. And a parting word to the wise: avoid the lure of the craft aisle. Resist the temptation to scope out the pipe cleaner art section.
If you fail to heed my words, you'll be most assuredly disappointed.
Namely because all the pipe cleaner animals are gone...I bought them out...

In Which The Bug and The Pea Incorporate...

The Bug and The Pea decided to go into business. This happened en route to church this morning. An idea carefully concocted, as many fine ideas are, in two booster seats.
Yesterday, the Bug discovered a previously unfinished craft project from her closet. A basic "learn how to needlepoint" cat pattern with pre-cut yarn pieces. She finished the project early this morning (heaven forbid we sleep past 6:30 a.m. on Sunday), but had some excess yarn.
"We'll make jewelry!" proclaimed The Bug...and set to work. She took three strands of leftover yarn and braided them into an anklet of sorts. She tried to fasten it on The Pea, convincing her the anklet matched her dress.
"We can SELL the jewelry for lots and lots of money!" said the Bug.
"I wanna help!" said the Pea. (My little capitalists...)
"I can make bracelets and necklaces and hair things!"
"I wanna help!" said the Pea.
"I'll make my own business!" said the Bug
"Me too! I can sell them, we can work together!" said the Pea. (My little marketers...)
As I type this, I am surrounded by yarn artwork. I have a braided bracelet on each arm. I have an anklet and three yarn necklaces. I am seated by a pile of multi-colored yarn accessories. My piggybank is beside me, and I am doling out pennies, nickles and dimes...depending on the merchandise.
The Pea just ran into the room, and I reminded her it's bath time!
"Mommy," she began, "We've already put aside some money to give to the church to help poor people. Don't worry, we didn't forget." And she races out of the room.
LOVE those sweet kiddos...

Palm Tree Pinatas and Outlawing Birthdays...

Tonight we attended the sweetest birthday party for the sweetest little 2 year old you've ever seen. However, when the hostess thanked us for coming, I had to comment she'd 'set the bar way too high' for those of us whose children are beginning to pick up on the fact that many parents host "friend" birthday parties for their kids. I've always tried to keep things simple. I count it as a personal victory that last year was our very first "friend" birthday party.
Most of you know that I am a very...how shall we say?...frugal person. Thrifty? Creatively resourceful? OK, OK, NOT willing to spend a great deal of money unless it is absolutely positively necessary. Case in point, my children wear hand-me-downs. I've been known to wrap up hand-me-downs and give them to the girls as birthday and Christmas gifts. (I mean, seriously, the TAGS were still on some of these clothes!!) Although I must say I felt a tugging on my heart when we opened up this year's box of hand-me-downs and the Pea asked, "Mommy, do you think we'll ever get new clothes?" (I think that falls under the job description of Aunts?) Anyhoo...
We generally have "family meal" birthday celebrations. In fact, after last year's Rollerskating and Bounce House extravaganzas, the girls ASKED for family meal celebrations in 2009. The kids get to choose the meal, help me decorate the cake, pick out an activity and create decorations. The four of us dine together, and if grandparents happen to be in town at the time, they are always welcome to join us! This year, The Bug chose to have tacos and ice cream (poured into muffin tins for 'mini-ice cream cakes'). Of course, when her birthday actually arrived, she said she'd hoped for a friend party. (WHAT??) She frowned and fretted and fought with her sister. She proclaimed, "This is the worst day of my life!" I told my grumpy bickering daughters if I heard one more word, I was outlawing birthdays altogether. Suddenly, our family party perked up.
On her birthday, The Pea chose to have spaghetti & meatballs, peanut butter cookie cake, and a Palm Tree Pinata. We debated over where to hang the Pinata. The Pea thought the best plan would be for Daddy to stand on a folding chair, hold the Pinata in front of him, and The Bug and The Pea would swing -blindfolded- with a baseball bat. (Daddy was not too keen on Plan A.) We ended up hanging the Pinata from the monkey-bars, and using the sticks at the end of their stick ponies as the "bat." The girls insisted on being blindfolded, which certainly added a whole new level of adventure. Thankfully, with only two participants, the odds were in their favor that one of them would bust open the Pinata. The stick pony cracked the Pinata after a few whacks and candy fell on the grass below. (I'm happy to report no hospital visits or critical injuries.)
I will probably give in to their requests for "friend" parties next year. Perhaps an "every other year" plan of alternating "friend" and "family meal" parties will work best. But, so help me, if the girls start complaining...no more birthday celebrations...ever!
The night before school started, we gathered together for a nice "end of the summer" meal. We generally ask the girls about their favorite part of the day. However, this last day of summer vacation, we asked about their favorite part of the summer. The Bug answered first, "I loved everything!" she said. Daddy replied, "No fair! Tell me your absolute favorite!" She thought a moment, grinned, and proclaimed, "Well, if I have to pick just ONE day...I'd have to say my birthday!"
Kids...just when you think they're gonna zig...they zag!