Bring It!

All right trick-or-treaters, here's the deal: it's Alpha vs. All of You.

One giant bowl of candy stands between us.

Who's it gonna be?

Alas...

Shhh. Moose is playing hooky. We got all the kids to school, had a conversation with the principal about AYP and school-dependent learners, and went and swam laps. Now we are enjoying a little "dueling laptops" and coffee after a nice little lunch. It has been quite a treat.

Except (and you know by now that even during a lovely day like this there will be an exception...) the part where he was eating his baguette. Imagine the 1/4 loaf as viewed from the top. He started by tearing it in half left and right. He set one down. Then he pick up a half and split it lengthwise again. He set the top 1/4 (technically 1/16 of a full baguette at this point) down and started eating the bottom 1/4. He generously offered to share it with me. And I reached for the intact half so I could take the bottom portion. And then this happened:

Moose: Why are you taking that piece? Take the one I already ripped.

Alpha: You aren't saving that part because it is your favorite part?

Moose: No. Which part is it?

Alpha: What??!!? How do you not not know?

Moose: Um. I just tore and ate the piece in my...hang on...right hand.

Alpha: You don't look at a whole chunk of baguette and already have a plan for how you are going to eat it? You don't eat the tougher bottom part first on purpose?

Moose: Yah. No.

Alpha: You don't have a plan for how to eat everything you eat?

Moose: Yah. No.

Alpha: I eat things in a specific way in a specific order. Always. Even a glass of water.

Moose: So it is not confined to that thing you do with m&m's and lining up the lid just right on take out coffee?

Alpha: Yah. No.

Moose: Huh.

Alpha: I am still struggling with the fact that you seriously don't care HOW you eat your food.

Moose: Yah. Not so much. Like, not at all.

Alpha: I hardly know you.

ED or not ED...

Why, in those Erectile Dysfunction advERtisments, are the middle aged couples always outside? A Queen sized bed on a deck. Two bathtubs on platforms in the wild. Hello? These aren't plumbed! Who in the hell would feel like doing it after carrying buckets of cold water from the exterior faucet to the tub over and over. I mean, sure, he could carry three at a time, but that is very tiring work. The tubs would still have to sit in the sun all day just to get close to being lukewarm.

Now I'm thinking that malaria and giardia need to be added to the list of STD's that Viagra, Levitra and Cialis don't protect you from. And their bed with no mosquito netting!

...my baby beside me at the wheel.

Moose has been driving Miss M to Middle School every morning. It is kind of sweet that they both have been enjoying their uninterrupted time together. She is usually full of questions. But today she had the answer.

Moose gets in the car after dragging the garbage can to the end of the driveway in a cold rain, pulls the door closed, and wipes off his glasses. He makes what he thought was a comment about the weather...

Moose: What a miserable day!

Miss M: How do you know what kind of day it is going to be?

Moose: Huh?

Miss M: Didn't you just choose a miserable day by making that comment?

There's a Metaphor in Here Somewhere...

Geneva, our middle dog, has some odd habits. Most of which are easy to explain away. She is terrified of lightening and fireworks because she used to be homeless. Being stuck outside, starving and frightened during a storm is sufficient cause for neuroses. I've developed them for less!

But then there is the issue with the snuggly. And I don't really get it. She absolutely loves it when I buy her a sheepskin from IKEA to snuggle. She doesn't step away from it for days. And when she is not sleeping on it she carries it around like a baby. She will put it down where she wants to be and sleep right there. She does not share.

Her love and devotion lasts about a week.

Which is when Neve starts in with the plucking. She will sit and pull every hair out of the leather. When she starts to worry that someone will notice the bald hide ('cause the tufts of creamy wool all over the place didn't tip us off), she sits and waits for the door to open and runs outside to get rid of it. For another week or so she will occasionally visit it in whatever deep pit she has left it in. But eventually one of us finds it and throws it away.

And as soon as it is in the garbage she starts looking at me like, "Um...Alpha? Do you know how uncomfortable it is to sleep at your feet and adore you from this hardwood floor?"

Something in her Wolf Brain snaps. It goes from, "I love you, I love you, I love you...." to "I EAT YOU!"

And then, as if she doesn't even remember the eating part,

she misses the love.

one for the sages

"Hey, Mom? When I am being logical about fictional things...which side of my brain am I using?"

-Big C

Bridging the Generation Gap

Dear Old Gentleman biking on the non-motorized meandering path,

I think it is fair to say we startled each other. In my defense, I had my ear buds in while I was running so I did not hear you come up from behind. Which is also why I did not hear what you turned your head to shout at me. I suspect the singing and perhaps my booty slap had something to do with why you felt it necessary to glare and bark something at me though it was clear by my behavior that I wouldn't hear it.

But, you see, the song is called Push It. And when I listen to it I am transported back to sing-alongs on High School bus rides to soccer games. I am trying to think of a song from your youth to compare it to. The 50's were full of naughty innuendo. What about Great Balls of Fire? See! We have so much in common.

And to stay on this track of honesty, if you had kept your opinion to yourself you wouldn't have swerved and hit that branch. That part is hardly my fault.

-The Mama

HeheheheheheHA!

So there's a new distraction over on my blog roll. Let me offer my own bit of safety advice before you click and read on:

Be warned: it is highly advisable to empty one's bladder before reading about Safety Graphics. *

*Trust me.

In 6 Days Time

Originally posted October 22, 2008: It just occurred to me that I am closing in on a year with this blogging thing. Thought I would toss out a few of my favorite posts for you all. Jen, Lorraine, Moose, Fiona, JR, thanks for reading!

Who and Why?

Today was a tough morning. Neither Moose nor I set our alarm clocks last night. Thankfully, my bladder has a built in alarm of her own. But we all didn't get up until 20 minutes before the minivan needed to be motoring across school district lines. It was pretty close to a "Totally Chocolate Breakfast" for those of you who enjoy the obscure Rolie Polie Olie reference. Thanks to three kids who didn't care if they brushed their teeth or hair this morning, they made it to school on time. Of course, I was back there again 35 minutes later delivering the lunches and a box for a diorama project. But it was definitely a team effort. Yeah Team!

This frazzled morning (and all without coffee, I might add) had me wondering how this family would ever survive stranded in the wilderness. This is actually a secret personality test I give individuals. It comes from the idea that you don't see a person's true self until there is a crisis. I imagine them lost in the North Woods or on a tiny tropical island. It is pretty funny to picture a friend with fancy nails using them to dig for grubs. Would she try to save them, hoping to be rescued before she needs a fill, or find them a useful tool until they popped off, one by one? And once they were gone how would she eat? This is how I occupy my mind. Now you know.

I have decided that this family would do alright. In part, because the kids watch any wilderness survival show on TV. Alone In The Wilderness is the best--a classic PBS special on a man who dropped it all and went to Alaska and built his cabin by hand and lived there. He filmed and documented it himself. I think I could carve a hinge like that if Moose will come up with the door.

I definitely want Big C along. That boy shines in a crisis. I will give you an example: two summers ago, Litttle C walked into a wasps nest and was swarmed by the nasty stingers. Big C heard him screaming and took control. He sent Miss M to get me. He yelled loud enough to get Little C's attention and called him away from the nest where, understandably, the little one just froze. Then he calmly talked to his little brother and pulled off the last few, clinging wasps. When the crisis was over, he hugged Little C and cried with him out of love and concern. Wow. He was 7 at the time. I want him with me. Always. Oh, and he is the one who will figure out how to make the bicycle operated fan to keep me cool on the island. Our own little "Professor" from Gilligan's Island.

I can't imagine being lost without Little C around either. For one thing, he likes to run and retrieve and that is very handy, even in the suburbs. For another, he is the kid who can take the best parts of everyone's ideas and combine them into a great solution. Must come from being the Third. And much like Ender Wiggins, he combines the best bits of all of us in one cute little bundle. Little C has a killer sense of humor and I believe very strongly in the restorative powers of funny. Also, the babe is cuddly warm and that will be useful if the nights are cold.

None of us would make it without Miss M. In addition to being brilliant, she is our "Wilson." She brings empathy and humanity and beauty to our dinner conversations. Her mind is always asking questions, looking for more, and fully immersing herself in a situation. She is also our go-to-girl if we need to communicate with any wildlife or fairies. Miss M is willing to taste anything once. Now don't go thinking that I would test strange fungi as a food source on my first born. But that ability to look at something totally foreign and think she will give it a try is terrific. Plus, if she'll eat it the boys will at least try it too.

Really, with these three along, Moose and I won't have much to do. Scraps will have been scavenged and assembled into a shelter before I have the sand out of my shoes. Big C and Little C will have a roaring campfire going. Miss M will have woven flower crowns for all. And somehow, this desperate situation will suddenly feel like a party.

Feel free to try my test on people you know. They will never even know you are doing it and it is good exercise for seeing people in new ways. Take, for example, a certain kid in a certain classroom a couple of years ago. Tough kid. Tough situation. He drove everyone around him crazy. But, dang, I want that kid with me too. Maybe not at the Science Museum again (craziest field trip EVER), but in life. He has found a way to protect himself and project himself in a world that is working against him. And that is a life skill that can change the world if he finds the inspiration to make this a better place.

So who would you want with you and why? Or maybe what surprised you about someone when you put them to the test?

Tough-Management Decision

I was running some numbers today. Did you know I am up to 69 friends on facebook? Which, if you know what a 12 year old boy I am in the humor department, never fails to make me giggle. It also seems to be just about the number of people I am willing to keep track of. Somewhere around 57 I passed the "immediate friends" and "new friends" and "long lost but well missed friends." Everything after that has turned into "guy who played trumpet next to me in Junior High Band." Now, I always thought Doug was a hoot (pun--sorry) but now that I have seen that his daughter looks exactly like someone put Doug's beautiful wife in the dryer and shrunk her, and that his infant son looks more like the Doug I remember than even Doug does...I think I am at a comfortable threshold. I know my limits.

So here's the deal. All future requests will have to be presented with a good reason why you should make the cut. Because someone else will have to be let go to make room. Best of luck to you!

With a little imagination...

Have you all read the Woolen Thong story over at Pioneer Woman (Oct. 9th with a link to it today as well)? Let me summarize it: a young girl wants to be done with little girl undies and asks for a thong. Mother says, "no way." Resourceful child goes home and knits a pair. 100% wool. HEheheheh! I have, in no way, ruined the story by giving you the ending. It is titled "Wool Thong" so you know where it is going. But it is still worth reading!

But the story had me laughing, again today, and remembering when Miss M was 7 and she was into taking everything apart. I use "was" like this phenomenon is something in our past. Truth be told, it is very much our reality. I cannot count the times I have said, "NO REVERSE ENGINEERING!" to my children. You'd think they didn't have a multitude of options of things to build with (have I shown you the dog treat catapult they made?) but they do. They just can't help themselves. I even bought them those 10 colored pens that had a clear housing so they could see how it worked while keeping it all together. Ah, the best laid plans! They decided to make 10 new pens out of the innards. Anyway...Miss M took apart the rivets holding her new Crocs together. They were Mary Janes and in no possible way would they stay on her feet without the rivets and the parts attached by them. So I told her I would not buy her another pair of shoes until she MADE herself one pair of shoes sturdy enough to get her to the mailbox and back in the rain. The mail and the shoes had to make it back to the house intact. She still thinks it was her favorite "punishment" ever! So she went to work and she succeeded. The bottoms were 1" thick corrugated cardboard with duct tape soles. The uppers, 100% acrylic felt. The style, flip flop with a heel cup. The mail: bills, bills, bills. I could have left that part out.

And she never took apart another shoe. Ball point pens, on the other hand...

Turn Up the Heat

Oh, my Dear Cygnets,

You know I love you, right? Good.

Please be advised that approximately 33.3% of my tirade this morning is due to the fact that I just spent an hour of my day yesterday (not to mention about 33.3% of my checking account) to outfit you all with appropriate, new winter gear.

A second 33.3% can be attributed to the fact that I spent another considerable amount of time just this past Saturday morning finding enough snowpants and hats and mittens around the house to hold you over until the new stuff arrives in the mail. Yes, Little C, you are wearing raspberry colored mittens. But you are like the coolest kid and class and can totally pull it off. And, yes, Big C, you are wearing a safety-orange hat. I haven't a clue where it came from. But I washed it. And your head will be warm and dry and those were my priorities.

The last third of my temper is a hold-over from the past, I'm guessing 11, years of my life! Keeping track of you all and all of your things is generally a smooth process. But when you casually meander around in the morning wasting time I kinda lose it. When I say, "Guys, it is snowing, go up and put on warm clothes and brush your teeth," I am actually expecting you to put on the warm clothes and brush your teeth. In no way does a pair of shorts and a t-shirt qualify just because you thought enough to pull on wool socks. (That is kind of like praying instead of using a condom, but I'll save that lecture until you are a little older.) Plus, yesterday when you were done playing outside would have been the right time to bring your mittens in the house. Instead, I sent you to school with cold, wet, raspberry mittens that I had to dig around in the snow by the tree house to find.

Big C, underneath your pile of 3 hoodies, 1 lunchbox, 1 raincoat, 1 backpack, 1 pair snowpants, 4 books, 3 pulleys, and 1 winter coat, is a set of empty drawers. Just to review: bag goes in the bottom. Hats and mits and library books go in the top. Lunchbox in the kitchen. Coats on hooks. Clothes in laundry or room. Wet things on the rack by the furnace. These are requirements, not suggestions.

It is neither my job nor my pleasure to remind you of these things repeatedly every step of the way. What you are teaching me, by ignoring these directives, is that my little notes and drawings and reminders and clear instructions do not work. You are teaching me that yelling at you is the only way you will listen to me prior to 9 am. And since I am not interested in yelling at you at all (let alone prior to 9 am) I am going to teach you something new. I recommend paying attention because you will be held responsible for the following:

Since it IS my job to teach you to be prepared and organized and responsible, this is the strategy I have come up with. I will be taking $25 from each of you. I will use this money to replace any winter gear you lose this season. I will also compensate myself for time and energy wasted helping you look for your things in the morning. (Helpful TIP: before bed every night when I remind you to get your stuff ready for school the next day I recommend doing just that.) There is a system already in place that will allow you meet these goals and recover your full $25 dollars come Spring if you choose to utilize it. If not, you will lose the cash. It is called a security deposit and, trust me, learning that lesson now will save you time and money in the future. And your mother's sanity in the present.

Love, the Mama

The Best Intentions

What started out as "Go Get Dressed for Soccer" took a wrong turn somewhere and landed on "Mostly Naked Monopoly" involving little more than shin guards and athletic support.

Know what lifeguards hate?

Lifeguards hate working at the office during posted "No Lifeguard On Duty" hours. They hate it because things like this happen:

Dear Diary,

Finally opened the new crate of pool noodles. My manager had me label both ends of them "MHCC" with a Sharpie. BOTH ENDS!! Seriously. Only, the fat Sharpie is dead (which she totally knew) so I had to use a skinny one. It took forever. Then, when I went to go put them in the toy bin (which I had cleaned out earlier--by myself--thank you) you will NEVER guess what I saw!? Get this, some lady floating FACE DOWN in the diving well!!!

It was that moment. The one you practice for but hope to never have to respond to. So I dropped all the noodles, hurdled them IN my flip-flops no less, and got to the edge of the pool just as she came up to take a breath. I asked her if she was ok. And she was like, totally unaffected! Can you believe it! She said she was just fine, explaining that the sun had broke through the clouds and was shining through the water.

WHAT THE HELL?

She had been "observing" her shadow on the bottom of the pool. I was not amused and politely (though it was super hard not to just smack her with a noodle) asked her to float on her back next time no lifeguards were on duty to be "observing" her. Face down. No shit.

I never want to get THAT old.

Luv U Lots!!<3>

(It didn't help when I asked the lifeguard if she had ever read any Kate Chopin.)

Fatal Flaw

I was waiting in the car line the other day outside of the middle school. I know Miss M didn't mind my singing show tunes in elementary school but I was trying to be thoughtful and not go too crazy at the new school. But then this song came on the radio. And I was totally loving it. My head was nodding along. My hips were moving too.

And I was thinking that this song could be great. One of those coming of age anthems. Like At Seventeen only perky. And without the depth. Or depression. I loved the idea that here was this young girl, ready to step into the world, catching a song she loved in a moment of trepidation. And then she rocked it.

Until...

...abruptly and from nowhere she sang, "Party in the USA!"

What?

It is like someone wrote this song and then Walmart stepped in and said, "Hey, Miley, Baby! You know that song? And you know your clothing line we carry? Well, if you sing about not caring what shoes you are wearing and then about not caring about fitting in and just being all happy and stuff with yourself...the way you already are...? Do you see where we are going with this? And your contract clearly states that you will support sales of your line. Do you need me to translate the legalese? No? Good. So what what we are thinking over on this side of the table is that if you add something to the refrain about the USA. You know we always like to push that. Oh, and maybe tweak it a bit to make it sound like she is going to a party. Because 'going to a party' ranks 4th in the tween target market's reasons to go buy a whole new outfit."

Miley sits in silence for a moment. "Um. Well. I could like totally sing 'Party in the USA' in there somewhere."

"We knew you would get it! Now if you could change the title from "I'm Gonna Be OK..."

Questions for Ms. Flu:

Didn't I just give you three hours of quality time today? How is that not enough nap for you? What more do you want from me?

I'll just take my eyes rolling back as my lids involuntarily close as your answer.

Library Rules

Aren't they just 1) Don't be loud and 2) Don't leave a mess?

Turns out, these basic rules are not enough. I am sitting at a library near Moose's office and the first rule listed is: "Physical, sexual, or verbal abuse of other library users or library staff is prohibited."

It is followed by 17 other rules that I am having trouble believing need to be posted on every door, computer, and table ANYWHERE let alone a public library. They range from "no open beverages" and "no skateboarding inside building" to "no carrying weapons of any type unless authorized by law" and "no interfering with the free passage of others." Here is my favorite: "No interfering with others' use of the library through poor personal hygiene."

I guess the signs outside posted at EVERY parking space should have tipped me off that this is no ordinary library: "DO NOT LEAVE ANY VALUABLES IN CAR."