Momedy

I'm a loser baby, so why don't you pray for me....

Benj was having a bit of a meltdown earlier due to being overtired, he launched into a tirade where he wept about what a bad person he is, and how irredeemable he is, because he had an argument with his brother who subsequently pronounced him the "worst brother in the world". Whereupon everyone, including the offending brother, clusters around to prop him up with a group hugs, and assurances that he is indeed, the best brother, son, grandson, nephew, friend, boyscout, Valiant A, 4th grader and citizen in the world.

When everyone went to bed, Finny was heard to say very sweetly and sincerely in his prayers, "...and please bless Benj that he won't be a loser".

The funniest part was that Benjamin had not used the term "loser" during his lament.

Benj, from his top bunk, waited for "Amen" to be said, before commenting dryly, "Thank you, Finny".

sibling sweetness-Finny was having his own overtired meltdown the night before last, Gracie bundled him up on the couch, and Gabe read to him until life seemed more worth living. Siblings rock.

Bah! Humbug

There are many things I love about this season, but (and I do feel a bit sheepish about this), I do not look forward to decorating for Christmas. I am not generally averse to decorating, in fact it is rather a passion of mine, it's just that  I have my home decor the way I want it and it just bothers me to mix it all up, not to mention that I get claustrophobic when surrounded by the clutter of Christmas-sy stuff. (And just between you and shallow I, some of it can be a little tacky-oh I know, I know, I hear the rattling of chains in my dreams already.)

Then there's the insane over-commercialism of the whole affair which has me jaded by about December 2nd, but I think a lot of my hesitation to embrace all things festive, stems from having severe morning sickness for 2 Christmas seasons,(two boys born on July 28th meant that December heralded me being sick as a dog the year before each of their births), one Christmas when I felt like a zombified manatee,(the Christmas right after we had moved here, and I was pregnant (but of course),and super depressed and recovering along with the rest of the family, from two particularly virulent strains of flu), and one Christmas when I was on bedrest, and about to deliver a baby the size of 2nd grader.

So perhaps this is why the sights and smells of Christmas tend to bring on vague feelings of gagginess and discomfort. (It was at least 5 years after Benjamin was born that I did not vomit on cue upon getting a whiff of a scented pinecone). Rather unfortunate, but oh well, I suppose the kids were worth it.

I still remember the feelings of relief I had when I got to take all the Christmas paraphenalia down last year and how everything seemed so minimalistic and serene in comparison (and when one thinks of my home, "minimalist" does not really spring to mind, but comparatively....).

However, like so many other things..we do it for the children, and so once again, I feign enthusiasm, dig out the Mormon Tabernacle Choir White Christmas cassette, (the one featured on my favourite Christmas move: Mr. Kruger's Christmas,  and is now out of circulations-why why???), also the album which has been requisite for decorating since I was a small child, and proceed to deck the halls.  And once I start,I must say that I do really do enjoy this cozy process, and reminiscing over all the decorations we have acquired over the years and what they represent, it is amazing what you forget about in just one year. And then, there are not many more heart warming and magical sights for a parent then these:

My incredibly talented and sweet friend Jessica created this for me out of last year's decorating photos:

And you know, listening to carols and drinking hot chocolate by the light of the Christmas tree with your family is pretty wonderful too. See..I'm not a total Scrooge, maybe Marley....

Super awesome Walmart radio ad....

(Perky, excited, woman's voice over):

"This Christmas, make their dreams come true! At Walmart, we make it easy with..

Plasma TV's just $799.99!

Remote control cars just $39.99!

And! This season, give the ultimate gift, the gift of life! Become an organ and tissue donor!!!"

Hmmmm, this season you say? you know, I'd like to..but this year things are a bit tight, and besides, I'm a little, you know,...attached to my life.

Giving thanks...

It has been a rather intense week, what with all the preparing for the holiday, attempting to party on the holiday, amidst doing copious college assignments, attending a difficult birth, catching of colds, throwing of parties, marathon Christmas shopping, giving of baptism talks designed to inspire, educate and simultaneously entertain an 8 year old boy, and receiving news of my granny's passing, all in the matter of a few days...and oh, there was more, but lucky for you, that's all I'm remembering or willing to talk about ;)

I used to hate Thanksgiving, I could not see the point. So we gorge ourselves. Great. Because North Americans really need another day to work on those obesity stats.  And all the hooplah about family would always get me down because I would get homesick. It was not a holiday I grew up with, I did not identify.

And then we moved here.

The first Sunday after our arrival, a very kind woman came and knelt beside me as I stared stonily ahead in church (the move, the stark November climate which along with my pregnancy hormones had plunged me into a pretty profound depression, were not  combining to allow me to make the best of first impressions, so indeed this woman was, in addition to being very kind, very brave.) She asked me if we would like to join her family and some friends for Thanksgiving. To my surprise (and probably her dismay), I agreed with alacrity. Other then my trauma at feeling compelled to create a pie crust from scratch, (because to this day I will swear that I heard a pause of horror right after I blithely mentioned to the much nicer then Martha Stewart, but just as good a cook, hostess, that I would just buy some pies. She denies it vehemently, but I know what I know.)

ANYWAY other then that, we had a delightful time. When I saw this picture on their fridge,

I knew I was among kindred spirits, and we have descended upon their house invited or not, for pretty much every major holiday since then (and many of the days in between too).

Since  then I have looked forward to Thanksgiving with great anticipation. So when I say, "preparing for the holiday", it means gathering up a few things to take to my friends' pristine home, and then plonking down for a 12 hour marathon of gourmet feasting and great company.Now I totally get it. Thanksgiving is fabulous. Thank you Richardsons, you're the meaning to our life..you're the inspiraaaaaaaaaaaation. Seriously, you are awesome. But then you knew that, didn't you Nathan?

This year, I was particularly excited for the parking and eating. I was tired and looking forward to a break day. As afore mentioned, I had spent most of the previous day attending a birth. The mom was a real trooper but it was no picnic for her, and I had been rather emotionally invested, and consequently drained after (although it is always an honour to be invited to a birth, so thank you so much to this family who allowed me to be there) and very thankfully, both mom and baby are healthy and beautiful.

My general state of exhaustion was not helped by the fact that I was also developing a rip roaring cold (which happily held off until I was done breathing in the birthing mothers' face). I awoke on Thanksgiving morn', to the realization that I had not one but two assignments due on Thanksgiving Day. We had technically only receieved these assignments 2 days earlier and the previous day had been taken up with breathing and focusing and such.  Awesome. Aaron thinks the Prof. must be a Communist for not giving an extension.  Note: I did not say so. (The Prof could conceivably be reading this). But you know, if he had, then I would have been muddling away a day later all alone, so...thanks communist prof..I guess. I am most genuinely thankful for my education.

ANYWAY...so along with a pie and a ham, a few drinks, some folding chairs and a brewing cold, I arrived for the feasting with trusty laptop in tow. Happy day! Having been working unsuccessfully at trying to figure out what I was supposed to do for the assignment and emailing my prof back and forth all morning, I was also somewhat disgruntled. Just a tad.

Fortunately for me, my friends (unwisely) did not abandon me, and I was blessed particularly with the very generous and unflagging help of an awesome English teacher, who helped me to figure out and produce something which was up until this point, a total mystery to me. (She even made a trip home to get examples for me to look at) and all I gave her was a lousy cold. Thank you Julie!!!

I also had the input of the (unsuspecting) Vice President of a multi-billion dollar software company, who is always helpful to talk to when you are a writing a Business paper. Y'know?  Now he will know better when a woman with a laptop at the Thanksgiving table, and a desperate gleam in her eye says, "So....what do you do?" His wife and daughter weighed in on semantics and grammar too. It was a bonding time, a collaborative effort so to speak. Much like I imagine it went with the Pilgrims and Indians. If the Indians had a laptop. Thank you nice brother in law Craig, and smart wife Michelle, and lovely daughter Cassandra.

So it could have been way worse, although that is hard to imagine because despite all the help, I pretty much worked on those verdompt assignments all day and all night. Well when I wasn't playing Apples to Apples. Or visiting the maternity ward, or eating.

And that brings me to yet another disappointment-. Somehow, my Excessive Eating dial had been turned to, "Minimal" and I was not able to eat in nearly the gluttonous manner I had intended on. One plate of teaspoon sized helpings-ok yes, there were many of these tiny portions to sample, but still-no seconds??! One piece of pie??! When we had 12? That is just a travesty. Happily, the pie I did eat

was a good way to go. So thanks for the pie Julie, and I guess a grudging shout out to my body, for making it impossible to gain that 5lbs I was grimly resigned to.

The next day there was the matter of recovering, (my cold was full steam ahead at this point), a little shopping from home (not the internet, I did it the good old fashioned way-I sent Aaron) thank you sweet Aaron, some cleaning  thanks again for all your help,babe,and the preparing of the three ring circus show  baptism talk. After which, I felt my head would surely explode and I would float away in exhausted molecules into space. But! There is no rest for the wicked. I had arranged to have a little gathering at my home that night. And the show must go on. Thanks to Jen Lynn, I had adopted the orphaned post Thanksgiving Pride and Prejudice watching marathon.  This was an excuse for an English tea party-esque spread if I ever saw one, and I can never resist setting up an English tea party-esque spread, no matter how revolting I may feel.

I had also stolen another friends' idea of having a "favourite things" exchange. No, I am not referring to my girl Oprah, rather Carolyn. Her idea was that everyone bring a few of their favourite things (again, inspired by Julie Andrews NOT Oprah),  with a budget of $10 or under and exchange them. It was really fun and a good way to get to know people better. Thank you Carolyn for the great idea!

I also (which the help of friends, but of course) managed to make some progress on a few of the many crafts I had so optimistically taken on one manic Super Saturday ,over the course of the next 7 hours. It was, against all cold ridden, exhaustion-related odds, a jolly good time. Thank you Jane Austen, thank you A&E, thank you Kroger for the tiny English tartlets, and for carrying South African rooibos tea, thank you Kashi who makes a bunch of my favourite things, thank you again, Julie for having such a cool favourite thing . Thank you Julie, Tiffany and Amy who never tire of helping out a craft-tard, and letting me mooch their craft supplies, and who are so much fun that 7 hours flies by like 3. Thanks to Cyndi who made me feel better by having even more homework then I did, and for being endlessly entertaining, and to Michelle and Cassandra who were actually trying to watch the show and did not throw a blunt object at the incessant talkers.

And thanks a lot Jen Lynn, for moving and ditching me with your responsibilties...sheesh.

The next day, I summoned enough strength to complete almost all of my shopping (including some desperately needed clothing) in one fell swoop. Target, thy name be blessed. The checkout was a solemn and painful moment, but it is done. And if we live off Ramen noodles in the dark, for the next month, so be it. It is done. Thank you, Target.

And then of course there was the news of my granny's death, which of course really took the wind out of my sails, but afforded me the chance to actually stop for a moment (or a day) and just be.  (or I would have been going to bookclub's and teaching at church, and hosting dinner after church, and all manner of turning a bad cold into pneumonia, related activities.  So, I guess...thanks Granny? For dying and letting me have a break? Before I got  myself really incapacitated before my husband went out of town for a week? Hmmm.... ummm somehow that does not sound quite kosher but I guess you could spin it that way. (Of course, I would really rather she was still around to send me a card while I languished with pneumonia, but if you're going to try and be Pollyanna-ish about it...) Regardless, Thank you Granny for everything. You rock.

While I was cloistered, Julie taught my class without me even asking her to, Amy called from church between Primary duties, with some very kind and comforting words, and Julie brought us a super yummy all comfort food dinner (as you can tell, for poor unfortunate Julie, I was somewhat of a friend in need this weekend, but she soooo came through). Thank you yet again, Amy and Julie.

And of course thanks to above for my beautiful kids, who were healthy enough to have a wonderful Thanksgiving, for my selfless, kind, funny wonderful husband who lives to make me happy, and for all the things that I know to be true which make me even more thankful still.

Kids table

Caught mid-mouthful, Aaron once again demonstrates his flair for the flattering photo.

Julie and Cyndi look good anyway.

Football is for Philistines, post dinner soccer game. (Gracie dominated)

Gabe gets twisted

Harvest moon-can you tell I was shivering?

Tribute to Granny...

Yesterday I received the completely unexpected news that my dear "Joburg" Granny had passed away. She was my last grandparent, and the one I had been the closest to. She was truly the perfect granny, from the time I was a child, her name has been synonomous with everything good.

Just hours before I heard the news, I had been working on a scrapbook for her, imagining her delight as she showed all her friends.  She was the type of granny that "brag books" were made for. Earlier that afternoon I had been buying her a gift, and then I came home to the news.  I was completely shocked, still am really, and very sad. Although we did not see each other often (she lived in South Africa), there was never an occasion that would pass by that we did not receive a letter or a card from her. She remembered everything. She never just sent the family an Easter card (who sends Easter cards?) she sent each invidual child their own.

She was someone who always made you feel warm and loved, even the thought of her made you feel better about yourself and life. And life was just better knowing she was out there, and that you could always call her, and if you caught her at home, (she lived a very full life to the end), she would be so genuinely delighted to hear from you and so in awe of every little thing you told her you were doing. She never ever complained about anything, she never let anyone see her down or anything other then cheerful, even at some of her saddest moments she would muster a smile and say, "now, we mustn't cry". My mom once told me that she had been to visit her in the hospital many years ago after she had been in surgery. She said that when she walked up to the door, Granny was wincing in obvious pain, but as soon as she saw my mom she put on a happy face and cheerily greeted her, insisting that she was just fine and hardly in any pain at all. That was just how she was. Every time I spoke to her she would tell me how well she was, never mentioning the problems she was having with her legs or any other aches and pains, and that it was really such a blessing for an old lady like her and I would always poo-poo that because she really wasn't old at all in my mind, she had such a youthful voice and outlook, I always imagined her with years still ahead of her and would not allow myself to seriously think of her ever leaving. She did not age at all in my eyes from when I was a little girl.

Granny was the most generous person I have ever known. She would literally give you the shirt off her back. I remember admiring her jersey once so she took it off and gave it to me, the same happened with jewelry and perfume. After a while I stopped complimenting her. Every Christmas of my childhood was made absolutely magical by the visit to granny's house, or hers to ours, where a huge pillow case of presents would await each of us. She wrapped every gift inside each pillow case so the magic would last for hours. She would buy things for the pillowcases all year round, from every vendor that stopped by her office, I can't imagine her saying, "no" to anyone.  The year we went back I got to re-experience the magic as each of my children discovered, "a whole Santa's sack all for me?" They still talk about it.

I never heard Granny saying anything unkind about anyone either. No matter what anyone did, they must have a good reason for it, she gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. I never saw her angry or annoyed. My mother always said that granny would organize her shoe cupboard when she was angry and we would always agree that she must have a very messy shoe cupboard. Speaking of shoes, she was always so well groomed and put together. Her nails were always manicured, her jewelry was always carefully chosen to coordinate with her outfit, her hair was always styled,  she always smelled lovely.

It has been a great sadness to me that my children did not have her in their lives, and that they weren't in hers in a physical way, but a couple of years ago, thanks again to my generous sister and her husband, we were able to go to South Africa, so that she could meet the younger three (she met Benjamin when he was a baby). We had a lovely day on the beach together. Gracie was only 3 when she met granny but when I showed her the pictures of her she said, "oh! I love that granny!" and went into great detail about what they had done on the beach together. They bonded immediately. I wish they could have spent more time together but I am so glad they met and Gracie has at least one real memory of her. When Benjamin heard the news of her passing he cried. He too, had very little face to face experience that he remembered, but the very brief encounters with her, along with the photos of her beaming as she held him as a baby, the cards, and letters, and phone calls had made a big impact on him. I just wish we'd had more time.

For some reason my kids always gravitated most to the gifts that she sent, she had a knack-sometimes to my chagrine,-(the somewhat unattractive large orange haired doll mentioned in an earlier post was sent from her) for finding the all time favourite gifts.

My babies always had the most beautifully hand knit cardigans and pull overs, hats and booties, thanks to my granny. They were always much admired, and experienced knitters would tell me how good her work was. She even knit them each a dressing gown (bathrobe) which they looked so unbearably cute in, they were cozy and warm just exactly like the dressing gowns she knitted for me as a child, together with the somewhat bizarre ,yet cozy triangular "bedsocks" her mother would knit for us, I used to feel quite toasty on cold winter evenings.

I feel so much sadness and regret that I did not call her more often, did not tell her more often how much we all loved her, did not let the kids talk to her more often. I would intend to, all the time, so often particularly lately, but she was hard to get in touch with, and then life would get in the way. I sobbed to my mother after she told me the news, that I had neglected her, that I had not been the granddaughter she deserved, and my mother assured me that she had never felt that way, that she had always been so delighted with the photos I sent, and the news of the kids. My mom is probably right, Granny was so utterly selfless that I'm sure she never felt neglected, it would never occur to her to think of herself for long enough to feel neglected. She was too busy living a full, loving, giving, happily busy life.

It is at times like these that I feel particularly far from home. I will not be able to attend her funeral which breaks my heart somewhat. I feel that I did so little for her, I would love to at least have been there, but she would have been the first to insist that I not even think about doing so. I imagine that it will be standing room only though, there is no one she came into contact with, who did not love her, I am certain of that. The world is definitely a lesser place for her absence.

Since there is nothing else I can give her or do for her, I am going to think about one of her qualities that I can work on developing in myself, I can't imagine which one I will choose because any of them will be a real challenge for me to master, but if I can in some small way, pay even a little of what she gave me forward, I will be making a real difference in the world. And as we said every time we ended a phone call,

Bye for now, I love you lots and miss you Granny!

Tea party on the beach

Chuckles with Finny

Seeing Gabe for the first time at the airport.

2 out of 3 are in on the joke (po Gracie was soooo tired)

4 Generations of girls. (The 3rd and 4th fresh off looooong flights)

Saying goodbye, very misty but still smiling.

Love you so much Gran, we hope you are enjoying many joyful reunions, we'll see you again,

xoxoxoxo from us all.

Pride. The root of all evil....

I like to sum things up and stick them in pigeon holes.  For instance it is sort of a hobby of mine to try to figure out the root of all evil and the root of all good. 

Today I witnessed some disturbing inhumanity toward a human being that was suffering terribly, completely vulnerable and desperately in need of some kindness. I believe that it had nothing to do with the victim and everything to do with the fact that all humanity had been eradicated from the perpetrator through arrogance. Through pride. There is a reason we are told to beware of it.

I believe that this person had come to believe to their very core that they were truly more valuable, more worthy to breathe air, to take up space, simply to be then the person they were dealing with.  And this belief had sucked out any ability to relate to another human being with any kind of compassion. The pride had actually made them less human and less humane. The pride had stolen their empathy. What a terrible tragedy really. This person had done so much, worked so hard to better themselves, obsessed themselves with achieving enough to to be esteemed in their profession, only to essentially become a shell of a person, with a tiny shriveled up soul, less able to help those they had supposedly set out to.

We are all vulnerable to soul sucking pride. There are absolutely countless ways society conditions us to believe that some people are better or more valuable then others. Those who are more educated are more entitled to their opinions then those who aren't, those who are more beautiful are more worthy of love and popularity then those who aren't. Those who are slim are considered more disciplined then those who are overweight, those who have money are taken more seriously by anyone from a shop assistant to a school principal.

Think of how often you have made an assumption about someone and felt superior to them in some way before you even realised what you were doing, sadly it is natural and we all do it.  And each time we do, it makes us that little bit less human.  It's how we become jaded and more likely to do things like refuse to give money to a beggar because "he will only spend it on booze" ....and that is my business.. how? I am fairly sure Jesus only said to give, he did not say to investigate the lifestyle of the person you are giving to, in order to ascertain whether they are as worthy of my money as I am), Or to judge those who are on welfare "because they are so lazy and if they'd just get off their butt and get a job..." ..you know, like me...because after all, I came from the exact same circumstances as they do, I have the exact same background, the same culture, the same encouragement from my parents to get a good education and support in doing so, I was in the same school district with the same funding and the same teachers, had the same enrichment opportunities, friends, and grew up in the same neighbourhood as every person who is on welfare and there is simply no reason why they should not be as together as I am. Right? (It is very late and it has been an exceptionally long day, so I hope it is clear that I am being fascetious here.) 

I took a sociology class recently which showed that those who are most likely to have an accurate understanding of the challenges of those who live in poverty are those who have been most exposed to it. Those who had not had face to face, meaningful contact with people living in poverty every day assumed that they were in this situation essentially as a matter of choice, just too lazy to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.  This is not a startling revelation, but it does explain why politicians make decisions like cutting funding for subsidized housing when homelessness is on the rise-politicians just don't hang with the homeless, their time is more valuable then that, and thus they are less humane regarding them.  Whew!...there's a tangent for ya.

Anyway, all this to say that I think I am going to settle on pride as the root of all evil. At least for today. Because I am pretty sure if that person who acted with such inhumanity today had for one moment forgotten their lofty station and put themselves in the shoes of the person they were dealing with, or even just seen that person as a human being, equal to them, they would have acted very, very differently. And that would have made all the difference.

Association of ideas...

I'm sitting drinking a glass of water which of course causes Finny who is observing me, to proclaim, "I'm foirsty" (thirsty). I say (so cleverly), "Hi foirsty, I'm Kirsty!" as I hand him my glass for a sip.

A lightbulb goes on and he sits up in great excitement, "Hey! Foirsty and Koirsty! That rhymes!"

"Yes!" I gush, "you are so smart! *yelling toward the kitchen* "Hey Aaron! listen to this. Finny! Tell daddy what you just said rhymes," Little face lights up as he straightens his spine, puffs out his chest proudly, and confidently states, "Koirsty and... Drink!"

When he was not driving me to drink earlier this day-(how is it that kids have a Crazy-dar. Always the day that you are the most sleep deprived and hurried and harried is the day that they decide that no footwear in the house is in anyway suitable for them to be seen wearing in public. And they decide this as you are skidding out of the front door unmade up with wild, wet hair 3 minutes before (yet another) dentist appointment.  Cue much WW&GoT and less then stellar motherly moments.

But after driving me to drink he made up for it by serving me pie. Every year his preschool spends the week before Thanksgiving making pumpkin pies from scratch. No canned pumpkin need apply. Imagine!-Using pumpkins for something other then jack-o-lanterns! My three youngest have all enjoyed this tradition as they went through the school, and we have enjoyed sitting on a tiny chair and being served pie by a proud little chef.

In which my most shameful secret is revealed...

Neither of them?! What's up with that dude? I can't decide if I respect him or think he is a big ole Southern Schmuck for leading them both on so genuinely. ("Genuinely" is his favourite word). That show is whack on so many levels, it's really just so very very wrong. I would say it was my guilty pleasure, but seriously, it is not even a pleasure, it just one of those shows that come on after the show you really wanted to watch and you just...can't...look...away no matter how much you want to. And after you just feel soiled.

Anyway, I have more on my mind then Nothing-Resembling-Reality TV. Earlier I wrote a brilliant post. I can say that because with my errant pinkie finger I pushed an evil mystery button that made it go bye-bye to internet heaven in the blink of an eye (or flick of a pinkie finger) and now no one can prove otherwise. But trust me it was brilliant. Life changing really. World changing perhaps. Possible that they would have had to wrestle that Nobel prize out of the hands of Al Gore and reassign it to yours truly after that post went live.

I made a pathetic yet earnest effort to recreate it just now, but after a few hours of butchering writing a really tedious paper for a class, I am all out of brilliance or even moderate intelligence or even coherence, and it was just disrespectful to my former brilliance. Tragically, no one knows when another flash will pass over me again, perhaps it is gone forever or for the next 76 years, like Haley's Comet, who can say. Curse you pinkie finger! Curse you computer key of death!

PS: Aaron just told me that he told his brother to shut up and let him sleep when Haley's Comet was passing over their farm in '86. I can't believe I live with this man.

Conquered!

The scary playroom aka the room the boys moved out way back when, which was supposed to become a playroom but instead became a catch all for the bizarre menagerie of clutter that would need to be hidden when guests came, that room, that beast that struck fear in the heart of many a brave and valiant man, woman and child, has at last been conquered. And my what a masterful use of space it is now. I will take pictures sometime.  I took before pictures too.

In other news, tonight was the annual Family of the Year awards which our church and the town sponsors every year. It is with no small measure of pride that I take this opportunity to inform you that not once but twice (ie both times I got it together in time to nominate someone), have my nominees been selected from a rather large pool as Family of the Year. And how is this of any interest to you, you may ask (as you may well ask of anything that I post here), well clearly dear reader and friend, I glom onto quality people. I have impeccable instincts (ok there was that one time..) but generally, impeccable taste in the people that I stalk, and if you are my friend, or rather if you feel that you have been stalked as a potential friend at any time by me, then you may pat yourself on the back and once again consider yourself superior in every way. Nice going friend! Nice going!

These evenings always get me a bit verklempt. It is really touching to see and hear the stories of different families in our town who are doing it right in different ways. To consider all the work and every day effort that it takes to create a strong, happy family. I am always inspired by the stories of the nominees. Lest you feel disillusioned and imagine that every family is destined to some form of dysfunction these days, this event can really prove that not to be the case. Of course I'm sure they all have their problems and weird quirks but they are most certainly functional in that they love and have confidence in each other, they know who they are and what they want to achieve and they work diligently together to reach those goals. One quote that was read from a young son tonight said, "My dad is always wanting to improve himself and he often asks me what he can do better as a dad, and I can never think of a thing." That gets me teary because really, could there ever be a better tribute. This is how you make a difference in the world. It may sound trite but it is true. You make your most profound impact when you are the best you can be for the people that you influence every day. I sometimes wonder what most motivated my heroes and heroines to do the things that they do/did, and I really think that more often then we may imagine, it is not a matter of one catalyst that made them jump up and take on the world, but a series of habits, and routines and truths that they learned from their parents and their teachers every day, for years that added up to a character of greatness, one which can recognise a need, an opportunity to better the world, and then have the sense of self worth, the courage and the discipline to make it happen. So yes, that thing you say to your kid every day when they lose their homework folder may just be the one thing that makes or breaks whether they will eradicate poverty and establish world peace.

No pressure or anything.

Hometown Parade

Enough with the WW & GoT (Weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth) already. Happy Times!

I love this weekend. It's an "I love my town" weekend. It's a great town. In fact I just discovered that it was selected as best hometown of our state this year. So it's not just me that says so. I take full credit for choosing this town for us to live in, without knowing much more then its name, and with a bunch of towns to choose from, I heard the name of this one and just knew, it was the Place. I take  full credit until a few weeks from now when it becomes the darkest, dreariest, ugliest, most boring town on the planet and then I blame my husband  hourly for us living here and vow darkly that I will leave this town before next winter or die trying. We've been in this love/hate relationship for 4 years now. (Me and the town, not me and my husband). Holy Toledo! That's just scary.

Anyway I digress (shocker!). So this weekend starts with gathering downtown on a Friday night (and it really is a very cute downtown),  freezing your..nose off, drinking really good hot chocolate and eating donut holes and excellent spicey soup and chips all for free. And going on stinky horse and carriage rides and bumping into lots of your friends, and singing a few Christmas carols and then counting down until they light the huge Christmas tree which has been decorated with ornaments made by the ye olde town's children. Ok that may be ye young town's children. Or ye olde town's young children?  Anyway, it is so charming it hurts. Then everyone converges into the library where the highschool choir performs (and they are actually really good). And then you go home feeling all warm and cozy and  aww shucks hometowny. (Or cold and frazzled and sick of your whiney kids, depends on the year).

one horse open wagon rides-chilly but cheerful.

The next morning you are up bright and early for the parade. It is a great parade. The first year we moved here we stumbled upon it accidentally a few days after moving here. Having spent those preceding days anxiously engaged in WW & GoT over our apparently disasterous decision (to move here), it would have taken a lot to impress us. But we were surprisingly impressed. It really is a GREAT parade. And they threw candy! Tons of it. My kids ended up with a bigger haul then Hallowe'en. We gathered enough in our stroller basket to cram in their wailing pie-holes for months after. As I told my friend Kallie, in California, they only ever threw tofu and sweet 'n low packets and coupons for plastic surgery so this was pretty exciting!

The next year we had even conned some people to be friends with us and we had them to watch it with, so it was even more fun. And the year after that we were actually in the parade. And that was awesome. Not really. So the last couple of years we rigged up a win-win scheme whereupon we park our soon to be numb rears somewhere near the middle of the parade route and industriously gather candy until we spy our float of choice looming into view, whereupon we dash out and join it as if we were there the whole time, march with it 'til the end, and then rush back to  our orginal spot to gather some more candy. Because that's the most important part.  Eating candy off the street, in full view of your parents. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Of course our scheme is sort of cheating and unfair to all those who legitimately stood shivering on their appointed street , candy-less, waiting for the parade to begin. But I suppose we are just morally bankrupt that way and it's the price you are going to pay if you want the special something our presence adds to any float. And by special something I mean a slightly deranged looking woman sprinting ahead to take pictures of those behind her, and a small child screaming "uppie, uppie my legs are broken". Santa concluded the parade signalling that it was Time To Shop (and please support your local retailers). Finny decided that it signalled that tomorrow is Christmas. And won't there be a disappointed someone tomorrow morning when all he wakes up to is a bowl of Life cereal and the announcement that he needs to get dressed (in "stupid clothes" )for church.

This afternoon we went to watch the Big Game with some friends we glommed onto at the parade. And by big game, I mean the big, big college rivalry game that the town lives and dies by.  And by watch I mean, go to their house and eat their food while the game plays on the TV behind me. Football does not move me but food does and there was some great food and even better company so it was all good.

Then this evening I did my first official Christmas shopping at the cutest of all the cute downtown shops and felt all virtuous about supporting my local businesses and came home feeling warm and cozy and hometowny (and also a little bloated and broke).

It's just a great weekend. And a really great town. Three seasons out of 4.

This is the best of 3 group photos Aaron attempted. Something tells me the boy just wasn't trying. Don't our children look charming? And bright! Can you blame me for the crrrazy eyes?

A more flattering angle of them.

Can you guess what they are doing here?

Joining the parade. Pre-broooooken legs.

Grinning Gabe

Graciously waving Gracie.

Blurry Benj demonstrating his footskills.

Let me rephrase that...

So today is a  better day. But you know what? I think I was entitled to yesterday not being so great.

Being a doula/long distance runner/fitness teacher/personal trainer and natural birth giver, no one knows better then me about the power of mind of matter. In fact I think the last few months have demonstrated how accomplished I am at it. Actually too good at times. And let me also assure everyone that I spent a goodly portion of yesterday counting my blessings and feeling grateful that things weren't worse. I have a friend who spent this week writing letters to her children-to be read at her funeral, which she expects to be soon. Trust me, I know how good I have it.

But honestly? I guess I feel a bit defensive and resentful over the fact that I did not feel as though I had the right to have that one bad day yesterday.

And I often wonder how real I should get on my blog without regretting it later, but the blogs that I enjoy reading most are the ones where the people are really honest and as candid about the bad days as they are about the good, despite the unattractive light it may put them in. Also, I supposedly do this because it is therapeutic and holding back is never therapeutic.

In fairness, to most people who read this though, apart from that epic post the other day, there has not been much context as to where I am coming from, and I do appreciate the support that those of you in that camp have extended my way, the fact that you took the time to reach out means a lot. This is also where those who read my blog will have the advantage over the people in my life who don't, who may be wondering why I am suddenly a bit pissy. Or a bit pissier then usual. Or maybe that is a disadvantage. I'm not sure.

In the last few months, if I have spent 5 minutes combined feeling true despair to the point that I actually cried, over the fact that I may be losing my eyesight or have MS, or liver disease, or a heart condition, if I spent 5 minutes churning out a few crocodile tears over all that, it was a lot.  Not to say that it is not really scary to contemplate not being able to be around for your kids when they are so young, and it is also not a good feeling contemplating becoming a burden to them and to your spouse.

But as far as I can remember, I spent extremely little time contemplating all that, and kept living my life the same as I always have. I kept running, I kept being a mom, I kept volunteering, I kept working, I kept studying. And for the most part I did it all fairly cheerfully.

Yes I think that I was pretty darn chipper considering the fact that I did all this while a good deal of the time I felt as if I had just passed out or was about to and was more often then not in a state of "rebalancing". Despite the fact that I was quite worried that I may get an attack of vertigo when I was driving my children somewhere since those fun times just tend to just come out of nowhere with no warning lately, despite the fact that even though my legs and my lungs, and mostly my spirit were all very willing to go another few miles on most of my runs, I have been getting so dizzy that I am often too nauseated to continue, and also not irresponsible enough to risk passing out where people would not see me. (And yes, I did experiment with not running at all, which did not go well for my health either.)

I was pretty uncomplaining I think, considering the fact that I have frequently been forced to stop mid- sentence lately because I had experienced a particularly bad moment of vertigo and could not really find words for a while after that, which can be somewhat embarassing when you are having a serious conversation with someone you don't know well and has no idea what is going on with you, (or even with those that do). Despite the fact that teaching the 6 year olds for 2 hours has been leaving me feeling like a truck has hit me (the Dr. actually explained the reason for all those symptoms to me-so at least that mystery is solved!).

I was not too wallow-y, considering the fact that on many days I was pretty much constantly aware of my heart pounding or racing or fluttering. Despite the fact that with every medical test that came back with no answers, I would wonder if I was crazy or if my friends were thinking I was a hypochondriac. And despite the fact that very few people, even those I considered friends, actually seemed to care about any of this at all. 

I continued quite stoically I think, considering the fact that apart from all this I suffered from several other unpleasant symptoms on a daily basis that I prefer not to post about on the internet. 

For the most part I coped by telling myself that there was nothing wrong and my appointment on Wednesday would confirm that.  The worst case scenario I had allowed for, after seeing the encouraging results of my cardiac tests was that there was something wrong which could be easily fixed with an ablation of the heart which is a simple out patient procedure with a high level of success.  As I mentioned before I did consider the possibility that I had what I do, but I did not realise that it was not easily treated and that there was nothing out there to zap and cure it. I just did not think a lot about it in general I suppose.  I definitely did not think much beyond Wednesday. Wednesday was the finish line that I was going for, everything would ease up on Wednesday. It does not make much rational sense but there you have it.

Only to be told  on Wednesday that haha just kidding, we moved the finish line and you don't know to where. I know you are completely exhausted and sick of feeling sick but just keep running ok??! Teehee, it will be fun!!

Only to be told by the Dr. that the one class of drugs that may help your symptoms, would actually make others worse, and actually, you can't take those anyway because of those other conditions you have, and sorry we have nothing else to offer, and yeah this certainly isn't good for longevity, whomever said life was fair-hohoho! Don't hurt yourself fainting on the way out ok?-bye now.

Only to be told by well meaning friends even after I told them how down I was about the diagnosis yesterday, that they felt better since I did not have a heart condition which would require surgery (although as I mentioned above this would be quick fix which I would, at this point have quite welcomed. Well gee,I am glad you feel better and can go on with your life without having to worry about me anymore, while my quality of life continues to be crappy. Whew.

No bitterness here folks. Although now that I have that off my chest I actually do feel better! Huh.

What I have learned through this experience, is that I need to be a lot more careful about the things I say to people when they are taking a day to be sad.Tough love has its place, attempts to look for the positive are great, but sometimes-? -You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to say '"hey I'm so sorry, that super sucks", and know when to run.  I have functioned under a pretty good state of denial up until now and I think I was due my day of grief or anger or whatever it is that comes next..y'know?  And ok fine, if I'm not eligible for the grief cycle, I'm pretty sure that at the very least I was due a day of catharsis after the stress that I did not allow myself to acknowledge over the last few months I deserved that day. Maybe I can try a do-over and inform everyone of the reaction that I am looking for before then.

I will be just fine, I have probably had this thing my whole life and it is only recently that it has really begun to interfere with my daily life, so I am choosing to believe that the symptoms will ease up as suddenly as they started. I am fit, I have a sexy heart,  and now I know that I have to eat a lot more salt, (a lot of people would be thrilled for that news), and sleeping more wouldn't hurt, and that I am now medically required to go running ;) and that maybe I can't go as fast or far as I would like to always, but heck, at least I can go!  Pollyanna come home, all is forgiven.

Because I can do whatever I want to here..

and that is really cool, I removed the earlier post because firstly it was just way too epic, as I'm sure anyone who attempted to read it would agree, and secondly it was just way too much information and anyone who has not seen it by now really does not need to.

For anyone who may be joining us just now and has had the misfortune of following my medical saga,I got the diagnosis of Dysautonomia yesterday which you should feel free to google at will.  You know I did.

In contrast to my initial reaction yesterday, I have a very bad attitude about it all today mostly because I am very tired of feeling the way I do, and so while it was initially exciting to know that I have a hot looking heart (and by hot I mean sex-AY, seriously, don't you wish your girlfriend had a heart like mine), it remains frustrating that it is forced to misbehave by my shot nervous system. Oh and according to google (which nobody with any type of diagnosis should ever read because it is designed strictly to make you depressed and hysterical, I could still die suddenly of a heart attack. One Just Never Knows.  Of course I could also die suddenly by way of merging truck, and as we know,my heart is looking rather buff so not overly concerned about that but still, that was not exactly an upper.

It is also not pleasant to feel the way I do most of the time lately so yeah, today Pollyanna is on a short break and I'm feeling good and grumpy and sorry for myself. Yes, I am quite painfully and shamefully aware that I could be terminal right now and yes I am deeply grateful that I am not. But unless at this moment you are terminal or you feel like a drunk daddy long legs without the long legs but with at times a demented pigeon trying to get out through your chest for a good portion of your day, and you have no clear idea of when or if you will stop feeling that way, then I will thank you to keep your good cheer in check. Because we want no part of that here. Well not today anyway.

Things that make me happy on a Tuesday...

• Mild sun drenched Fall days. There are few things more beautiful. (I have to keep gushing about them now to make up for all the whining that is coming.)

• How when run with my iPod on shuffle, it senses just what to play (I don't do playlists). A  little bit more aggro for running on the street, moving to mellow for running in the woods. It's psychic! Today it switched from Goodbye Earl to Enya just as I ran into the nature preserve and stayed chill for the duration. Thought of you when this one came up after we spoke today, Jen Lynn.

• The view from my windows

• Crockpot recipes with 5 ingredients you can make for your family to eat while you go out and party with your friends.
• Seeing unconditional love, compassion and acceptance in action. Women rock and I have some of the best of them in my life.
• Bread pudding with warm homemade caramel sauce, pecans and raisins poured over. Oh my word.
• Not feeling the way I did last year this time and having felt that way, so I know how good it is not to. (And that as hopeless and dismal as things may seem, they always get better)
• New babies in pink polka dot hats. Especially when they have been prayed here for over a decade.
• These. I haven't tasted them. But just on principle.

Freaky deaky!

Are you in your right mind? Or your left? Or maybe schizo?

It's even more fun if you watch it with somone else and you are both seeing something different at the same time.

It's just too complicated....

so again according  to the stats this blog is (happily) quite a bit more read then it appears to be from the comments or lack thereof. A few people I know in my every day life who read it (and isn't that a tad awkward) have mentioned that they wished to post comments, (which would certainly be a lovely thing), but you had to sign your firstborn away in your blood sign up on typepad in order to do so, and they were lame they just weren't willing to do this. Which is pretty pathetic but there you have it. Which I completely understand and respect.

For this reason and the fact that I pay for this service when it could be free (and although I am absolutely dripping in cash, I could be doing philanthropic works with it instead), plus I could embed things that I can't with this site, for all these reasons, I am fantasizing about yet ANOTHER change. Yes I know, I am the internet flake  wandering nomad. I like to keep you on your toes. I am thinking though that access to these archives will become impossible once I stop paying my bill...so these are all things to ponder before making such a drastic decision that could change so many lives. Anyway, watch this space and should I indeed move, please be sure to bookmark the new site because although I have no idea who most of you are, (and with apologies to Henry Higgins)... I have grown accustomed to your stats and feel a deep fondness for each and every one of your hits.

Final paper..

I am finishing up a final paper tonight which technically needs to be submitted in 20 minutes, but the East coast time difference is on my side (I hope). Anyway, while I am occupied with that lofty endeavour I will leave you with one of my favourite quotes from  one of my favourite movies which is a comfort to me at times like these.

"Shoot for the stars. That's what I say. If you shoot for the stars and you only end up in outer space, at least there you are. "-Will Jensen

Time for bed....

Does anyone else find the bedtime rigamorale daunting? No I'm not talking about getting the kids finally unconscious-that's not daunting it is insanity inducing. I'm talking about getting my own haggard self between the sheets.

Once I decide it is time for bed, I remember I still have to blog-curse you NABLOPOMO!!! That done I begin to think about the next day and inevitably realise that I have no clean gym clothes, (I really should get more, but decent running clothes cost more then my wedding dress-no lie). So I start a load of laundry. Then of course the ADD kicks in and I mill around doing various things ineffectively. Eventually I make my way upstairs. Whereupon I realise how much maintenance a body takes. I consider myself a pretty low maintenance chick grooming wise. I can be showered, dressed, made up and good to go in 10 minutes. Which means that it is a banner glamour day when I point a blow dryer at my head for a few moments. But there are just a few things that have to be done to keep you an acceptable member of society. First you have to wash your face so that your skin which is having an extended identity crisis between 16 year old acne sufferer and 97 year old desert dweller, won't have too many surprises for you in the morning. So there's the scrubbing, then there's the toning, and the moisturizing and the application of various wonder products. (If I were more disciplined I would be putting on all sorts of eye creams and neck creams too at this juncture, but enough already..y'know?!) Then there is the brushing, and the flossing-man I have a lot of teeth! Then there's the matter of contact lens removal and hiding the lens case from the Magic Makers. I won't even go into the days that I realise that my eyebrows cannot go a moment longer before I am mistaken for the reincarnation of Frieda Kahlo. So then there's the mowing. Done? No! Now you remember that you have to put the laundry into the dryer so down you go again triggering another episode of ADD and before you know it you are organizing your spices.

By the time I finally stagger up to bed my poor husband has often given up on me, turned off the lights and gone to sleep so I'm stumbling around the room, groping into the darkness like a zombie 'til I can reach my bedside lamp. Which when turned on reveals a pill pack-and off I go in search of water and to do a quick clean of the bathroom. Finally back to my room I remember that I have yet read my scriptures, if they happen to be next to my bed it's a good night and I can settle in with those until it's time to kneel to pray whereupon there's the noticing the pile of laundry that needs to be folded. Which is why God must find me a truly awful conversationalist because by the time I get to  the point of chatting with Him I am somewhat incoherent.

My husband will sometimes ask me how I find the energy to stay awake so late and you know, I think it comes down to the fact that I am usually just too tired to consider going to bed!

Chaperone...

Is there any other word in the English language to make you feel older or stodgier? Well I suppose there are, but this is definitely on the list of Old Words.

Tonight I was a chaperone at a dance for the youth at church. I did it a few months ago too and it was downright depressing. Not only was I having vivid flashbacks to all of the angst that came with church dances in my youth, I was now also old. It was an extremely awkward and weird experience, so I had low expectations for tonight.

But tonight was actually a marked improvement on that experience. I know the girls I lead better now and had a great time finding out about some of their dramas, it is definitely a different dynamic then when you are sitting in church and they tend to open up more when they have to yell things at you over the music. The music was good, my co-chaperone is a great conversationalist and fun guy,  the 2 bite brownies were plentiful, I got to dance a little and even hula hoop some (I have "mastering the hula hoop" on my list of things to do before I turn 32 now).  I got to experience the amused detachment I had seen the youth leaders display while I was 14 and  angsting about the fact that the guy I liked did not show up or seemed unmoved by my new outfit, or had no idea that I was alive. I discovered that The Village People and NSync are both alive and well in the hearts of the youth of today. Happily co-existing with Gwen and Avril. (Btw-she does not like your gf.)

Best part of all? Someone apologised to me for mistaking me for one of the youth. Never was there a more misplaced apology.  Bless that person. Bless them.

How to give a mom a heart attack...

1.Call her on her cell phone as she is blithely driving along.

2.Show up as her children's school on caller ID. This will put her into full alert.

3.Make her wait a couple of seconds saying HELLO?! HELLO?

4.Commence a recorded message saying in a voice not unlike a news anchor reporting something very dire, " This is the superintendent. At 10:45 this morning *name of the school 3 of your children are currently at* received a call that there was a bomb in the building" (or something to that effect)...

5. Blather on for a few minutes about what the police did then.... while the mother you called has that heart attack and crashes the car.  She may  or may not still be around to hear when you wrap it up by saying cheerfully that in fact a bank was robbed in your little town at about the same time so it appears to have been a diversionary tactic to keep the police away from there, and nothing blew up so we are pretty sure all is well and we are so proud of everyone doing what they were supposed to do in a circumstance like this. Alrighty then-bye-bye!

Today as I was driving along I was literally thinking literally the moment before the cell phone rang that it had been such a great day. Really smooth and sunny. Life was good. It reminded me of the fact that one phone call, one moment could completely change your life. Those first few words I heard as I answered the phone triggered every fear that I had stuffed down somewhere from the time I first saw the horrifying coverage of the Columbine shootings when Benjamin was a newborn and all the subsequent school tragedies. Still, I have never obsessed about these things too much. I know some of my friends fear something like this every time their child goes to school. I just don't. The statistics are still very much on our side after all, but today made the possibility of the unthinkable that much more tangible and I absolutely fell apart. I was really surprised by the force of my emotion. Since I am not generally a big cry-er and tend to have a more delayed reaction to shock (and then I usually just act angry),  the fact that I burst immediately into tears was an indication of what had been seething beneath the surface for me. I was able to pull myself more or less together after a few moments, get it all into perspective, It was just a threat -they happen every day somewhere after all. I never bat an eyelid anymore when I hear about them on the news. I made a call to a friend who has kids at another school in town. They were being checked out too but our school had been the only one that was called, she had actually been at her kids' school and spoken to one of the policemen there and felt that everything was OK. So I forced my trembling limbs back into mobility, ran into a store to get what I needed, and then drove home.

It was only when I finally paged Aaron that I began to sob and have major chest pain. (Since I am currently in the process of having a heart condition ruled out/diagnosed, this was also rather troubling).

Aaron was in a meeting so could not talk for long, and I was not all cried out. So I called my mom, because just the process of actually getting a call through to SA, and then actually finding someone at home there generally shocks me into forgetting whatever it is that I was freaking out about.  And if that doesn't  do it my mom has an uncanny talent for putting a positive spin on pretty much everything.

Many a good cry to my mom I have been cheated of because of this, and unable to dredge up even one crocodile tear,I have had to be content with telling her about the fact that I almost cried. But today I was able to cry and sob and blub and have further chest pain to my heart's content. (My poor mother) By the time I was done with her I had experienced 3 near fainting episodes, called the Dr. upon her insistence and called her back. Oh the drama. We are talking a major losing of one's marbles here folks. Like Freak Out with capital F O.  I'm absolutely sure that if I had received the fake bomb/bank robber news in a different way-say on one of the millions of papers handed to me by my children at the end of the day , (which I was in addition to the call), this would not have been nearly such a big deal, but being away from one's kids and hearing of the possibility of harm to them is just the most revolting feeling I can describe. 

My next post will be from a bunker in Southern Idaho where we will all live until Finny is 30.

First graders...

are exhausting. Every couple of weeks I go in and teach them for a couple of hours. As soon as the teacher I relieve sees me she grabs her coat and flees the room with a haunted expression on her face calling encouragement over her shoulder, unable to conceal the pity in her eyes.

The class I teach has a lot of issues. Supposedly it's a mainstream class, but in it we have Aspbergers, ADD, ADHD, ODD, boy in a wheelchair,diabetic, the class hypochondriac, class whiner, class tattler, nose picker, thumb sucker, kids who cannot write their name, kids who can write pages of coherent well thought out sentences, and the usual hyper, spastic stuff that comes along with a bunch of 6 year olds pent up in one room with an inadequate oxygen supply for far too long.

It never ceases to amaze me that children come out of school knowing anything under these circumstances, and truly,I think teachers must be superhuman. Just the crowd control is about all I can handle. And I have four kids, I'm not a stranger to managing a bunch of people at the same time. But there's a bunch..and then there's a bunch. Nothing extraordinary is required of me, other then to teach them Maths (which is really the biggest irony on the planet), but it's not like I'm doing any heavy lifting or physically chasing anyone down. It's not pre-school. And it's not the act of teaching in general, as I do that quite regularly to other varied audiences with no ill effects.

The only logical explanation is that for some reason or another I always get a terrible night's sleep before I teach. It's quite uncanny but it happens without fail. But I often don't go for a run on those mornings because I need to get more done at home before I spend the afternoon at the school, so one would think that I would be all rested up.

However, the bad night of sleep combined with the rigours of taking on the 6 year olds, has me practically staggering to my car at the end of the day. I am more physically spent after 2 hours of teaching these kids then I am after 2 hours of all out running. It's completely pathetic. I can barely construct a sentence to my own children as we are driving home, and heaven forbid one of them do not comply, but immediately with my commands because I do not have the energy to re-issue them after having repeated every word I have uttered 23 times in the 2 hours prior.

I have felt more energy after 24 hours of labour, delivering a baby, haemorraging nigh unto death and then staying awake 24/7 for a week after, nursing that baby, then I do at 3:30pm on the days I teach the 1st graders. For real.

Once home, my blood sugar takes about 3 hours of being tenderly plied with peanut butter sandwiches and hot chocolate to recover from that fasting, shakey, hypoglycemic feeling. I seriously do not get how I can feel so completely and utterly spent  doing nothing more strenous then standing around for 2 hours saying, "boys and girl....BOYS and GIRLS....clap clap clap...BOYS AND GIRLS" and trying to explain how "10 more" is the same thing as "plus 10" and how turning to face the right direction in your desk, is a good way to avoid seeing the person behind you sticking their tongue out at you, and why picking your nose and eating it is just nasty and there is the hand sanitiser, please use two squirts.

But every time I leave there with the haunted expression etched on my own face, I am forever grateful for those that have whatever freakish superhuman energy it takes to be a full time elementary school teacher. A lot about our public school system is really, really messed up but those teachers,seriously, they are amazing.

Slave to NABLOPOMO

I have been writing all day and most of the night and am fresh out of creativity wit or really coherence but with only 8 minutes to go to turn the little Nov 7 from black to red, OCD dictates that post I must.

I will tell you that Finny's most recent obsession is that of being a Garbage man. He has procured a Rubbermaid tub and a wicker laundry hamper which he pushes around the house diligently filling with items. These are his garbage trucks and he takes his job very seriously. My boy has aspirations.

Anyway this evening he went out for a short while with Aaron and upon his return he rushed up to me and asked me if I had watched over his garbage. I informed him that I had. He then asked me, "did you touch it?" "No," I said, "don't worry I just watched it, I did not touch it". To which he magnanimously replied, "that's ok mommy, you can touch my garbage any time you like".

Was there ever a sweeter thing said by a boy to his mother?

Cold. Have I mentioned I'm not a fan?

It is freezing here today. Literally freezing, and this morning we saw our first little flurries of snow, much to the excitement of my children, for whom I felt compelled to feign enthusiasm through clenched teeth.

Combined with a wind stiff enough to blow away  a small child, (it was touch and go for a moment  there for poor Finny-fortunately he had a good breakfast), and a lead grey sky, I'm not loving it.

The only thing that is keeping my spirits from plummeting regarding the fact that Winter is doggedly on its way, is the fact that the trees are still very beautiful. The flame coloured leaves have remained on the trees for longer then usual due to a blessedly mild October, and they are actually quite striking against the grey sky.

I remembered today as I piled my 4th layer on and still felt cold in my own home, that I really detest being cold. I find it quite painful. I would so much rather be uncomfortably hot. I can much more easily embrace being sweaty then frostbitten, but alas it is not to be. At least not for the next 6-7 months. However, far more traumatic to me even then the cold, is the Ugly, and so tonight I am grateful for a warm house, a warm car, a warm coat and for an extended reprieve from the ugly.

Pink eye

This morning Finny was gazing at me as I went through the ritual of plonking a piece of plastic onto my eyeball. (Contacts really are quite bizarre when you think about it).

The left lens went in with very little drama. It always does. That left lens is easy like Sunday morning. Low maintenance, knows its place. No worries.  It's the right lens that takes some girding up of the loins. It is very temperamental, you never quite know with righty. Righty is often the thing that lies between me and the fantasy of one day, maybe... actually being on time for Church. Even if all the other stars aligned to make this possible, righty would make sure it did not happen. Anyway, so when the right lens slid in with narey a protest it was quite a moment. I smiled benignly down at Finny.  It was going to be a good day. And then, searing pain. blinding, confusing, burning, eyeball burrowing into skull pain. So much burning, need to get lens out NOW but eye won't open, pain. Eventually I pry it open, frantically poke at my eyeball and manage to drag out the lens of fire.  Finny watches with increasing interest.

I rinse off the lens again, noticing that it looks sort of foamy.., take a deep breath and slide it back into my poor bloodshot eye. Ah....All is well.

I walk away into my bedroom, various children following me asking me various random yet highly pressing questions, when suddenly..."OHMYGOSHGETITOUT!! GETITOUT (previously only said with as much emphasis when babies have been crowning),  MY EYE! MY EYE!" The burning is back, this time on my already traumatized eyeball it feels like it has been tied to the trailer hitch of a truck, dragged across a long sandy beach, and then had a refreshing dousing with lemon and vinegar.

I stumble back to the bathroom, howling and flailing,  leaving confused (yet undeterred in their questioning), children in my wake. Finny watches me thoughtfully, serenely.

As I coax my eye into opening, promising it a long contact lens free all-expense-paid vacation at a resort of its choice, in exchange for its immediate cooperation, and miraculously manage to get what feels like a permanently adhered lens of torture out of my eye, Finny comments conversationally,

"I put soap in dat, (waving airly towards my contact lens case), I was making magic."

Apparently mixing a variety of bathroom substances and $100 per ounce perfume together is what my lovely children constitute as "making magic". So far, we have gotten off rather lightly. An empty shampoo bottle here, no more expensive perfume til next Valentines day there... Today I magically almost the sight in my right eye.

I blame Aaron for passing on the Mad Scientist gene.

Just a bump

so that my neverending picture post is not repeated twice. I have contacted typepad regarding this technical difficulty and they have not responded. It may be time to find a new home...stay tuned.

Amazing Autumn, Fabulous Fall and the Photos

Here are some catch up photos of the Fall festivities.

Family foray to the pumpkin patch. We try to find a pumpkin to impersonate each of us.

My Good Son Ben: "Mommy look I found a skinny pumpkin!" Me: for you? Him: No I thought it could be

you". Smart kid that.

Gracie found her pumpkin-and look it even has some blonde hair sprouting.

Finny and Gabe haul our pickin's-don't that sound rustic and doesn't Gabe look lovely in my coat?

Designing scary faces

Scooping pumpkin guts-eeeeuwwww

The moment of truth

Freaky family

Off to do some Boo-ing

The mad dash and jump into the getaway car after the drop-"go go go!!" They would make fabulous bank robbers

Off to trick or treat-Finny changed from an elephant into a Roooooaring dinosaur!

The gang's all here-let's GO!

This is the best way to trick or treat aka one of the great advantages of little-ness...treat and EAT

Soooo much cute sweetness it hurts my teeth!

Home again after a long night of begging and enjoying the fruits of their labours.

Soccer season is OVAH!!...

A couple of weeks ago Aaron took this picture and we both laughed ruefully over it. It was an "oy vey.. are we THOSE parents?!" moments. As you can see, it depicts our poor exhausted 9 year old practising the cello, in full soccer kit (complete with cleats.) This had been his day:

Early to school for Student Council, gifted program thingie during school which means catching up on whatever was in class after. Comes home, quick snack, frantic piano practising. Piano lesson.Shovel dinner. Homework. Soccer practise. Walk through the door right upstairs to practise cello.

Shower, scriptures, prayers, bed.  I'm thinking there was actually Scouts in there somewhere but I cannot imagine where. And seriously, this is all stuff he has asked to do, the practising is all self initiated, and when you break it down, really it is not all that much. We aren't living vicariously through our kid, or trying to keep up with the Jones kid here, it's just the way it is for any kid who wants to play a sport.

The way I remember it when I was a kid was that sport was held right after school AT school in the afternoon for FREE, and then you came home and had your supper and did your homework and hung out with your family and went to bed. The fact that schools do not generally sponsor after school activities here, makes it so that there is a lot of pressure on families both financially and time wise because everything has to be done in the evenings/weekends when parents are around for transportation, and everything costs beaucoup bucks so only priveliged children get to participate in extra curriculars. This is whack. If there is a candidate out there who can make the extra curricular scene here more like the way it was for me as a kid in third world darkest Africa, they have my vote.

Anyway, so soccer season is over.  This gives us 4 evenings a week and our Saturdays back 'til January when indoor begins. That is unless Benj decides to play the first session of indoor which starts in 2 weeks.  But still 2 weeks of freedom..this is huge.

Here are some glimpses:'

The expressions of the green guys on either side of him crack me up-remind me of the thugs on The Little Rascals.

Finny picks up some tips from the coach's daughter..and shows her his moves.

Gracie gets her game face on. She has proven to be an animal on the soccer field this season. Our little Mia Hamm.

.

Brick Wall Gabe at the Goal. Benj sat just off to the right of the goal during some games and tutored him-they made an amazing team. Things have really clicked for Gabe too this season.

Benj runs through the tunnel at the end of his last game today. I think this is secretly their favourite part.

It was fun while it lasted. Really it was. The weather was extremely cooperative, the games were exciting, the air was fresh and we were all together. But now..it is OVAH and Hallelujah for that.

Oh I just found some more favs: This was Finny's first game, he was having a ball til the last 10 seconds when he was knocked over and whacked in the face. Big sibs were immediately on the scene and escorting him off the field.

When pig(gies) fly:

Here's a corner coaching in action shot

Thinking good thoughts...

for Julie who is currently killing her comps exam, and tonight will be one very happy and one very DONE woman. Go Julie! Go Julie! It's your Comps Day!

NOOOOOOOOO!!!! Say it is not so!

On November 1st I blithely joined this group. I thought hey, no problem, I always have way more to say then anybody wants to hear, plus it's a way to join a sort of writers network blah blah. Noooo problem. This morning I woke up to the chilling thought that I FORGOT. On the SECOND DAY. How lame is this? It is very very disturbing for the OCD sufferer to MISS.A.DAY. Deeply so. I'm not sure if frantically posting and begging for forgiveness from the NaBloPoMo powers that be will do any good, because I'm absolutely sure they are monitoring me at this very moment, and take it in shifts to monitor me around the clock, but at this point folks, I have NOTHING TO LOSE. I am a desperate shell of a person. Who forgot on the second day. I will attempt to make up, at least in my pitiful mind by writing again tonight.  But that little blank space on Nov 2 on the calendar is going to haunt me for the rest of the month. GAH!!!!!!!! Noooooooooooo!!!

                              

My marathon

I survived the Hallowe'en marathon. Overall my performance was OK. My speed was good, I was losing endurance toward the end, although to be fair, it was a pretty grueling race.  I knew this was the case when at 8:30pm I realised that the only time I had sat for any appreciable time that day was at 9:30am-during my spinning class. (And that's spinning on a bike rather then at a loom.)  And actually, we were doing a lot of jumps, so scrap that. I did not sit all day. And not only did I not sit, I was running all day. I may be the only person in the US who loses weight on Hallowe'en.

Notes to self:

1.don't do the class party  next year. Ok fine, you know you will- so if you do....

2. GET HELP. Also:

3. while the concept of the healthy creative snack is a wonderful one...well.....yeah....

I made these:

cheesy fingers

Edible eyeballs

Apple bites

And just to show that I am not a complete stick in the mud I added some caramel to dip the apples in.

All the kids rush into the classroom where I have just barely stuck the last almond tooth into the last apple mouth and there is a silence. Followed by confused sounding murmering. Like: 'these aren't cupcakes, where are the cupcakes' kind of murmering.

Then Benj bounces in, "WOW CHECK THIS OUT!!! THIS IS SOOOOO COOOL!!! WHO MADE THESE??!!"

"I did", I mutter quietly, (because at this moment, it was clearly not something to be proud of) he looks at me in amazement-YOU DID???! OMIGOSH!!! HEY YOU GUYS!!! MY MOM MADE THESE!!!

"no son, no! you are going to become a huge reject!" I silently scream,

"She is SO CREATIVE!! " he gushes.

The murmering becomes a little more politely enthusiastic... like "Oh yeah...haha.. a finger...for Halloween..I get it now!..."

Within a few minutes Benjamin, oblivious to the revulsion of his pals, has joyfully scarfed down all the body parts on his plate  and the plate of the girl who was not there. I could not bring myself to look very closely, but the general impression I got was that of children poking gingerly at the caramel with the apple and then trying to suck it off the apple because you know, heaven forbid they actually eat a fruit or vegetable. I have to give the kids credit though, nobody was outright rude about it but it was not exactly what one could call a hit. I actually did not expect it to be, and was frankly relieved that I  was not driven out of the classrom in a shower of edible eyeballs, and my child was not ostracized for having the freak mom.

I think there are some things in the universe that you just do not mess with and cupcakes or cookies at a Halloween class party is one of them.  Because there are just some days when a kid need more sugar.

OK so a brief breakdown of the marathon. I more or less ran negative splits (Ie it just got faster and faster as the day went on).

Get up, kids off to school, dash to gym, dash to grocery store, dash home to be in time for kid being dropped off there.  Start assembling the above gorey gourmet items at 11:30am (need to have them at the school at 1:30pm) in between doing this, I still need to: get kids into Halloween costumes, help one with homework,  make lunch for all (visiting child requires that I can't tell the kids to "open the fridge and eat whatever falls out". Visiting child also has a very limited menu of acceptable lunch fare, all of which require some sort of cooking). Assemble 19 goodie bags (this was delegated to kids-visiting child needed to earn her keep), drop kids off at school, continue to preschool, take a few photos, dash back home to grab all the food no one is going to eat, dash to the school, watch costume parade taking copious pictures, discover that I have not brought a knife to cut the apples (wanted to do them at the last minute because of the browning factor), dash to cafeteria, beg for a sharp knife, terrorise already hyped up children in the hall when they see I am furtively holding a knife at my side (probably breaking all sorts of major laws), frantically make the apple mouths, miraculously do not cut off any of my fingers (although it would have made for a more authentic display), frantically lay out all the plates, napkins, drinks etc at each desk...host the subdued class party-nothing like a vegetable to bring everybody down, grab kids, dash to pick up other kid, dash home, deal with very persistent meat salesman at the door, dash to get cross, exhausted children re-dressed into their costumes, dash to gather vegetables and bean dip ingredients required to make this:

for pre trick or treating party. Arrive at party, discover I have left all the vegetable at home. Delegate dash home to Aaron as I make the dip. People arriving as I am surrounded by various vegetable choppings and seeds. Attractive.

Dash to get kids fed. Dash to get kids made up. Dash to get photos of kids. Dash around trick or treating. Dash back to home base. SIT. Eat mountains of candy mindlessly while chatting with friends. Go home. Dash to get kids in bed. Horrible crash due to sugar overdose. Go to bed. Awoken 15 times by child who developed cough in the last hour and child who keeps waking up due to be overtired and high on sugar.

Begin November: much more tired then I began October, which I suppose is to be expected.

HOWEVER: My house was clean when I left it last night!! HA!! TRIUMPH!!! Where's my hot-dog? Where's my t-shirt? Where's my medal?