Perfect Moment

This, my friends, is one of the very best moments of parenting. When it's all there, the awesome Santa haul, laid out in all its plastic glory. That moment when you look at each pile of presents, and it's perfect, and you know they're going to love it. Sure, you know that at least one thing will be broken by the days' end, and half of it will be forgotten by next week, but right now, it's perfect.

I wish all of you a Christmas filled with joy, big smiles, delighted children, and all the people you love. And I hope that you find everything you want under your tree! Merry Christmas!!

Who Needs Santa When You've Got Nana?

Were you wondering if I'd killed everyone with a badly undercooked Thanksgiving turkey? Nah, everyone's fine. Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, and the turkey was delicious. The reason I've been MIA in blogland for a couple of weeks is because the elves have been crazy busy at my house. And by elves, I mean my awesome handyman, John, (who, considering his diminutive stature, might not like being called an elf)

John's been fixing and updating everything in sight thanks to a vast home improvement project sponsored by my in-laws. My mother-in-law is putting Santa to shame by funding project after project, and things are looking spiffier by the day around this place. In the last two weeks we've ordered new kitchen cabinet doors, had lights (with fancy dimmer switches!!) installed in the den, a new light above the kitchen sink, repaired dishwasher and ice maker, new insulation in the attic above the playroom, a new chair, chest, throw pillows, and ottomans in the den, and a brand-new front-loading washer and dryer!!!! No, I'm not joking. Heck, I'm probably forgetting stuff!! And no, I will not trade MILs with anyone- I've already had offers and flatly rejected them. I'm keeping Nana Claus all for myself!!!

But things are truly looking merry and bright around here. The kitchen is going to be a thousand times better once we get our old, raggedy doors out and the fancy new ones in. And the den, oh the glorious den. It feels ten times bigger now that I've moved out the too-big chair and desk that were stealing all the floor space. I smile every time I walk in there and see all that glorious space set off by perfectly-dimmed lighting! We are very lucky and very grateful to all of the in-laws for making our home better for the holidays!

Thanksgiving Eve- A True Story

Twas' the day before Thanksgiving and all through the house, Mommy was rushing around like a crack-head mouse. There was lots to get done, and not much time to do it. Let's see if crazy mommy will manage to get through it.......

7:22: Wake up with a sense of anxiety over the long list of tasks that await me.

8:00: Feed kids, turn on tv babysitter- an hour of Madagascar (or Madagadagascar as Hays calls it) should buy me time to drag out and wash roasting pan and crystal bowls for turkey and cranberry sauce.

9:00: Manage a shower that's only interrupted by the twins once. Will needs to pee, Hays just "wants to watch mommy's shower." Ummm, no thanks.

9:45: I'm dressed and so are the kids. Aunt Bea arrives to help me take them to get haircuts. While buckling Hays into car, I notice that he has a brown speck on his neck- it turns out to be a flea. Great, add flea eradication to to-do list.

10:00: Haircuts ensue. It's only mildly horrible and we emerge 30 minutes later with good-looking haircuts. (Even mommy!!)

10:30: We brave the loony bin that is Publix. I wouldn't have attempted it if we weren't out of milk, and if I hadn't used up a block of cream cheese that I needed to make cheesecake in yesterday's wine/cream cheese/pepper jelly frenzy with my friend. It was a zoo, and I almost had to beat up a senior citizen that started crap with me in line about crowding her.

11:00: Get home and begin flea warfare. Spray everything upholstered with flea killer, then bathe the dog. While picking up fat, reluctant dog to drag her to the tub, hear an ominous crunch in my back. Think, "Hmmmm, this might be bad later."

11:30: Gather wet towels and clothes, add "load of laundry" and "clean sopping wet bathroom" to my to-do list. Realize that in my hurry to ward off an impending flea infestation, I have forgotten to put away milk, cream cheese, and creamer. Sigh...

11:45: Start pomegranate cranberry sauce. I'm feeling fancy because I'm using my Ipad in its snazzy case with a stand to display the recipe. Unfortunately, it also attracts Will's attention and he starts on on a 10-minute whine fest of "I want mommy's Ipad!" I start off nicely explaining that mommy is using her Ipad, wind up yelling, "No!! You can't have it right now no matter how much you whine! Now GET OUT OF MY KITCHEN!!!!"

12:00: Finally unload dishwasher, toss soggy, wet-dog towels into the washer, feed kids, read them a story, put them down for a nap (with little to no hope that they'll actually sleep.) Take advil for my back that's already starting to twinge and throb.

1:00: Get Mason set up with paints and paper plates so he can make handprint turkeys to complete my set of handprint turkey napkin rings for tomorrow. Say a quick prayer of thanks for the convenience of Lean Cuisine as I toss one in the microwave.

1:20: Tell Will to stop singing and go to sleep

1:25: Go in again to get on to Will- this time threatening great bodily harm. Not expecting it to work, but maybe fear will buy me time.

1:55: What can only be described as joyous yelps are emanating from the twins' room. But I'm in the middle of making a pumpkin cheesecake, so they'll have to stay there. I figure I've got at least 20 minutes before screams erupt.

2:15: The joy turns to screams, but the cheesecake is safely in the oven, so I release Thing 1 and Thing 2.

2:30: After settling the twins with snacks, my Ipad, and Yo Gabba Gabba, I make a cup of chai tea to try to recharge, and get to work turning Mason's handprint turkeys into napkin rings.

3:05: Matt's home!!! Hallelujah, reinforcements have arrived!! Prepare to set out to procure wine, and temporary hem tape to temporarily hem the too-long pants I'm planning to wear tomorrow. Followed by a trip to my mom's to drop off the napkin rings and pick up the 20 pound thawed (oh please, please God, let it have thawed) turkey.

4:00: Back home with Scotch reusable adhesive strips that I think will fit my temporary hemming needs, a bottle of wine, and a STUPID, PIECE OF SHIT, STILL MOSTLY FROZEN turkey. Prepare a cooler out back to start thawing that S.O.B. in water- which will have to be changed EVERY 30 MINUTES!!! for the next 3-4 hours.

4:30: Start cleaning up the house and folding laundry while Matt and the boys watch a kung-fu movie. Matt does offer to vacuum since my back is hurting- when I'm half done and have already spent the last half hour on my hands and knees scrubbing the bathroom floor and bathtub. Thanks, honey!

5:20: Pour lovely glass of wine and order pizza. Screw cooking dinner.

6:00: Send Matt out to get pizza and to make the second trip of the day to Publix to pick up stuff I didn't realize we were out of on my first trip.

6:30: Feed, bathe, dress twins. Read, brush teeth, bed. Two down, 1 to go......

7:00: Mix cool whip with pumpkin pie spice and maple syrup. Planning to pipe it on top of the cheesecake that has a crack the size of the freakin' Grand Canyon. But the cake's not cool enough, so there's nothing to do but sit and wait....

7:45: Stupid turkey is finally thawed. Still sitting and waiting for the cheesecake to cool. Restless without something to do.

8:00: Watch The Middle. Seriously love that show, and according to several people, Frankie Heck is my mom alter-ego. Yeah, I can see it.

8:30: Cheesecake is finally cooled, but my piping idea doesn't work so well.. Eh, whatever. Spread the maple spice cool whip on top and sprinkle it with chopped pecans. It's not perfect, but it beats crater cake.

8:50: Send Mason to bed. Fuss at Mason to stop stalling. Tell Mason to stop crying- I'm not being mean, I'm just tired of the bedtime stalling every single night!

9:00: Watch Modern Family while drinking more wine. Oh, Modern Family, how I love thee.

9:30: Time to get the turkey ready. Dig the neck and bag o' giblets out (shudder). Season that bad boy, stuff him with onions and celery, tie him in a roasting bag and stick him in the fridge. See you tomorrow bright and early, buddy!

9:45: Clean every inch of the kitchen that may have come anywhere near turkey juice with antibacterial cleaner- can't be too careful!!

10:00: Done for the day. Sit on the couch for a while longer before heading to bed.

11:00: Set the alarm for 6 am, say a prayer to the turkey gods that mine turns out well, and turn out the light.

Happy Thanksgiving to all, and to all a good night!!!

You've Come a Long Way, Babies

Today is Premature Birth Awareness Day. This is something we're all too familiar with. It's been a long time since we've looked back at the old days- the beginning of our amazing twin adventure, if you will. So if you'll indulge me for a moment, let's look back and think about what a premature birth really means. Let's remember what 9 weeks early and less than three pounds looks like....

Hays, born at 30 weeks, 2 lbs.

Will, born at 30 weeks, 2 lbs. 14 oz.

It's kind of shocking isn't it? They were so small and so frail, and we wondered how they would possibly survive. Will almost didn't. Every minute was touch and go in those first few days, and we couldn't even fathom the journey that lay ahead.

But survive they did. And they haven't just survived, they have thrived. I can't look back on those dark days and not be absolutely, positively, to-my-core amazed at how far they have come. And grateful. So very, very grateful to the bottom of my soul. 

We were lucky- beyond lucky, but not everyone is. And there are tiny babies like ours being born every single day. If you'd like to help prevent premature births, or help these tiny babies grow into wonderful, healthy children like mine, a donation to the March of Dimes is a great way to do it. If you're so inclined you can go to www.marchofdimes.com They do great things, and they would certainly appreciate your help. But if you can't help that way, that's okay. Just take a minute to offer prayers, blessings, good vibes- whatever you believe in- to the families that are loving babies born too early, that the babies will grow and thrive, and that their mommies and daddies will be blessed with faith, courage, and amazing friends and family to carry them through. 

You want a hippopotamus for Christmas? Tough.

Every year I get super-excited about the idea of Christmas shopping for my kids. In my mind, I can't wait to get out there and find the perfect toys that will make their eyes light up on Christmas morning. And then every year, as soon as I start looking, reality comes and crushes my retail dreams.

First of all, there are no "perfect toys." There are "kind of decent, I think they'll like this" toys, and there are "this looks fun- maybe they'll play with it for more than 5 minutes" toys. But there are no perfect "make Christmas morning live forever in their memories" toys. Basically, everything looks like one more variation on all the plastic junk that we already have cluttering up the playroom. And since they don't even play with that stuff, I have a really hard time dumping a bunch of cash on more of the same.

Which brings me to the second reality check- money. When did toys get so ridiculously, out-of-this-world expensive??? You can't by some junky playset whose cheap pieces will never work properly, and which will probably fall apart the minute your kid tries to play with it for less than $20. And God help you if you want to buy them something that might actually hold together and work the way it does on the commercial. Then you'd better be prepared to shell out no less than $50 for one little toy!! And if your budget is anything like mine, it's pretty much busted after one good toy and one piece of crap toy.

And two toys (one of them crappy) doesn't make for a very impressive Christmas haul does it? We all know that part of the joy of Christmas morning is the sheer volume of loot. It doesn't all have to be great, but boy, there'd better be a lot of it. And while we don't go completely crazy with it, we do like for each child to have a fairly substantial pile. So I wind up spending more than I want to, and buying junk toys that might get played with twice just to see big smiles and sparkling eyes on Christmas morning.

It happens every year. And every year I walk away from Christmas shopping discouraged and frustrated instead of filled with excitement and Christmas cheer. I'm hoping this year will be better. We've already gotten started, and I found some things for Mason that are going to rock his world. And since I literally had no idea what to do for the twins, I took them to Target yesterday and let them wander the toy aisles to choose things they want Santa to bring them. (Side note: that was actually pretty cute. At first they were all, "I want dis, I want dis!" And I kept telling them, "No, we're not buying anything today, but we can put it on your list for Santa." By the end of the trip, they had it down. "Mommy, put dat on my list- big gun. I want dat. Put dat on my list.") So I know what I want to get them and I know how much it costs. Maybe a little more preparation will make this year's shopping experience more gratifying than horrifying. We'll see.....

Fall Fun Photo Extravaganza

Holy cow, was last week busy. That's why I never got around to posting, even though I had lots to share. So here's the last week in pictures. The first few are from our pumpkin carving party last Sunday. It was great- friends, family, food and fun. All the best things in life! We carved pumpkin masterpieces, ate lots of food, and successfully roasted marshmallows without a single kid falling in the fire, or stabbing someone with a toasting fork!!

The next day was Halloween. I'm sure most families with three year olds had them adorably dressed. I saw lots of pictures of sweetly costumed preschoolers that made me say, "awwwwwww." I, however, had a zombie and a werewolf. Thanks, Thriller. I tried to embrace the theme and convince Mason to dress as Michael Jackson, but he wasn't having it. So my mom and I took a zombie, a werewolf and a ninja trick-or-treating, and whoa, baby was that an experience! It was the first time for the little guys, and they LOVED it. It took a while for them to get the hang of it. The first few houses, Will tried to go inside, and he blew out the candles in several people's jack-o-lanterns. But by the 5th or 6th house, he had it figured out and there was no stopping him. They didn't walk from house to house, they ran. So mom and I ran (up incredibly steep driveways) to keep up with them. I can say with absolute conviction that I earned every fun-size candy bar that I stole out of their bags.

And I was going to post all of those pictures last week, but I got too busy getting ready for the trip we took this weekend! We loaded up the minivan and took the boys up to the mountains. It was the perfect weekend. The weather was gorgeous, the leaves were ablaze with color, and we had an awesome cabin with a creek right outside. The only time we left the property was to take a quick trip to the apple orchard. The boys liked it, but they were in a hurry to get back to the cabin so they could throw leaves and rocks into the creek. We had planned to do a little hiking in the nearby state park, but we couldn't pry the boys away from the water. We could barely drag them out even when their wet feet were so cold they were at risk of hypothermia!

Matt's dad came up for a little while Saturday afternoon, so we were able to get a family picture (yay!!) and the boys got to show Budda the wonders of the woods. It was so nice to have nowhere to be and nothing that we had to do. Mason said it was "the best vacation ever!" And considering that it was also the cheapest vacation ever, I was glad to hear it. A definite success, and we're already talking about how we can't wait to go next year.



 And now we're barreling towards Thanksgiving at an astonishing speed, and I can't believe we're already in the second week of November. I hadn't fully adjusted to October yet!!! Soon the cash hemorrhage known as Christmas shopping begins. Are any of you friends with the money fairy? If so, could you ask her to swing by my house???

Screw the Scale

Some people have a love/hate relationship with their scale. I have an intense dislike/burning hatred relationship with mine. There's never a time that I step on that plastic bastard, look down at the numbers and think, "That's pretty good." At best it's "ugh." At its worst, it's "Oh. My. God. I am never eating again." But what really aggravates me much more than the numbers that flash up in that little display window, is the hold they have on me.

See, I can be having a day where I feel pretty good. I'll look in the mirror and think, "Not bad!" But if I get on the scale, and reads even a half pound over what I think is acceptable, my whole self image is shot. Somewhere between the ten steps from the mirror to the bathroom, I must have put on ten pounds. Because the reflection that looked pretty good to me two minutes ago, now looks like a lumpy, dumpy, frumpy hag.

And I know that it's ridiculous. I should not let some battery-powered hunk of judgement determine my self-worth. But I do. It pushes aside the fact that I exercise regularly (yup, still doing battle with the elliptical several times a week), wear a smaller size than I did a year ago, look better in pictures, and that I have more endurance than I ever have. None of that matters if the number isn't low enough.

And the worst part is that I know I probably look as good now as I'm ever going to. Most people don't get better looking as the years pass. (Unless you're an awkward adolescent. In that case, the coming years will only bring improvement.) But even though I know, logically, that I should embrace the far-from-perfect figure that I have, that I should love it for being strong and healthy, and in at least nominally good shape, I spend most of my mirror time cataloguing the flaws. I can't get past the thunder thighs, or the stomach that starts off okay, then seems to melt downward into a Dahli-esque sag.

I wish I could shrug off the ravages of time and childbirth, and say with a smile, "Well hell, it could be a lot worse." I wish I could totally, without reservations, embrace what I see in the mirror today. But who truly can? I felt fat at 18, and when I look at pictures from back then, I think, how stupid was I? I would kill to have that body now. Why couldn't I love it then? But like the song says "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got till it's gone..." Maybe I should just stay off the scale and let my jeans be the judge. Jeans won't lie, but they also won't give you a stupid soul-crushing number to obsess over.

Insomaniac

If I ever kill my husband, it will happen at 3 a.m. Not there aren't other times during the day that I feel like killing him, but if I ever follow through with it, it will be at 3 a.m. I realized this the other night during a ruthless bout of insomnia. As the hours ticked by, my rage at Matt, sleeping peacefully beside me, grew and grew. You may be thinking, "Rage? Why rage? He's just sleeping." Oh, no. Oh, no, he was not just sleeping. He was also breathing. And as I lay there, so tired and yet hopelessly awake, all I could hear was that constant breathing. I wanted to suffocate him with a pillow.

But then, then, he had the audacity to SNORE! It was like he was taunting my sleeplessness with every exhale. At that point, mere suffocation would have been far too kind. I was thinking of stabbing him in the ear with a kitchen knife. Or perhaps setting him on fire.

Fear of incarceration prevailed, and I managed to stifle my murderous urges. Instead I made do with kicking, elbowing, and a string of hateful cussing that would have made a sailor proud. I'm not going to repeat it because it was very unladylike. Plus, he slept through most of my ranting, and I'd hate for him to see a written record of the things I said. They weren't nice. I may or may not have said something along the lines of "If a monster truck crashed through the wall at this very moment, killing you instantly, I would throw a party." So, yeah, not nice.

This went on for hours until I finally fell asleep around four in the morning. Then I had to wake up and face the day at 6:30. It was rough. Luckily, my murderous rage had disappeared completely by the time the sun came up. I was tired, but not homicidal. Matt lived to see another day. But next time, he might not be so lucky. I don't get insomnia all that often, but when I do, he'd be wise to cut that breathing crap out.

Halloween Madness

It's finally starting to feel like fall!! I was so excited that we actually have had to wear jackets the last two days. Pretty big news when you consider that it was 90* on Monday. And not only are the temperatures finally October appropriate, Halloween is just over a week away!! I've been bustin' out my crafty mojo like a madwoman to get ready for it. Holidays= craftapalooza for me. I went to Michaels today and got so excited at all the Thanksgiving and Christmas craft possibilities that I literally had to tell myself, "Walk away, Cameron, walk away. It's not even Halloween yet."

So here's what I've been up to over the past couple of weeks. First, pumpkin painting!!! I bought way more pumpkins than my hand can stand to carve, so I figured I'd paint most of them. That way I can still have cool decorations without them turning into moldy mushballs in three days time. We'll still carve the backs of two or three of them just before the big day. But honestly, they look so cool, I'm not sure I'll have the heart to cut into them!!

Awesome spooky crow on a white pumpkin

 Ugly old witch

 My absolute favorite- the glitter skull. He's sooo

much cooler in person.

Fancy pants (and slightly off-center) monogram

 We're batty!!

 Glitzy, spider webby, fishnet stocking-looking mini pumpkin

 This one probably would have turned out better if I hadn't used those

round garage sale price stickers as painters tape. Ah well, live and learn.

 Front door decor

I totally snagged the idea for this wreath off of Pinterest.

I decked out all the window boxes with the Dollar Tree's spooky best. What can I say, crafty and CHEAP!!!

You may wonder if I did anything inside. Short answer, no. I mean, I've got a witch silhouette on the playroom window, and Frankenstein is coming out of the hallway mirror, but nothing else would be safe from grabby little twin hands. So I confined interior decorating to things they couldn't reach. Which amounts to......this

But the most fabulous creation has to be the headpiece for Hays's werewolf costume. He's going to be a werewolf and Will's going to be a zombie (remember, they're obsessed with Thriller) I couldn't find a werewolf head small enough to fit him, so I found a tutorial and made one. And it's AWESOME!!! He loves it. All we need are fake fur gloves, and this werewolf is ready!

Coming Clean

I just found out it's ADHD awareness week. I had no idea there was an ADHD awareness week, but it seems like an opportune time to tell you about something I've been going back and forth on sharing. On one hand, I try to be pretty honest about our lives. On the other, this is a polarizing subject that invites a lot of criticism. And I don't particularly want to be criticized for something that is a personal decision made in, what we feel, is the best interest of our child. That being said, in the spirit of keeping it real, here's the story.

My Will, my sweet, funny, precious Will, has always been a live wire. From the time he could walk, he never stood still. He never sat through a story or an entire tv show. He never, literally never, sat down and played with toys. And most frightening, he never, ever shied away from danger of any sort. Whether it was escaping the house while I was cooking dinner and strolling down the street, or attempting to stick an assortment of interesting objects in the electrical sockets, Will was going to do it over and over. And no amount of admonishment or punishment was going to stop him.

We thought it would get better as he got older. It got worse. We felt like we spent every moment of the day fussing at him or punishing him- trying with all our might to get him to listen and behave, all to no avail. We were at our wit's end. And we were even more frustrated that we couldn't figure out why he was like this. The other boys weren't. Sure, they'd get into stuff, but they'd (mostly) listen when we got onto them. And they could focus on activities for long periods of time. At two years old, Hays would sit and play with cars for close to an hour at a time, just as happy as a clam. But Will just cruised around the house, all the time, looking for something to get into.

It came to a head this summer. Matt and I went out of town for a week and left the kids with their grandparents. When we got back, they told us how hard it was to deal with Will. How he just would not listen, had no fear of anything- no matter how dangerous, how they felt like they couldn't take their eyes off him for a single second. That's when I realized that it wasn't just me, and that we might truly have a problem.

After a disastrous attempt at Bible school, I had finally reached the breaking point. I called my pediatrician, at the end of my rope, begging for advice on how to deal with this child. His response was, "I've been kind of waiting for this call." I wasn't sure what to feel- relief that I wasn't just a crappy mother that couldn't control her child, dismay at the fact that there truly was a problem. I was conflicted.

I was even more conflicted when he suggested that we try putting Will on a very small dose of Ritalin. I've always been in the camp of "parents medicate their children way too often." And here I was considering that very thing. Not to mention, my kid is little- much younger than most kids are when they start taking Ritalin. But I trust our doctor, and I was desperate for a solution. So after some soul-searching, and advice calls to parents, sisters, and friends, we decided to give it a shot.  (An aside here. Many pediatricians won't prescribe Ritalin to a three year old. But my pediatrician knows us very well. Keep in mind that we didn't go more than 10 days without a visit to his office during last year's winter of illness. He knows Will, has seen his behavior progress, and he is a very, very cautious doctor. So in the event that anyone thinks that he is, in any way, a pill-pushing, quick-fix kind of guy- don't. He is amazing- the most sought after pediatrician in our area, and I literally trust him with their lives.)

So we started him on Ritalin- and it was amazing. It was like someone flipped a switch. Not personality-wise. I can assure you it did not diminish his essential "Will-ness" one bit. He's still silly, funny, energetic, loud, rambunctious and wonderful. But it turned off those parts that worried us so much. We finally started to see some much-needed impulse control. Oh sure, he'll still jump off the couch and run with sticks, but he won't try to stick a screwdriver in the outlet anymore. He started to listen and follow directions (most of the time). And he could actually focus on things instead of cruising restlessly all day long. He listens to stories, he'll build amazing block towers, he'll sit down and play with cars or dinosaurs for a half hour or more- it was the most astonishing, wonderful change. Now we could spend more time praising him than reprimanding. And that was such a blessing, because my charming Will loves to please people. And it was so hard for him to always be in trouble.

That was about four months ago, and the quality of life for our family has improved immeasurably. Will is happier. Matt and I don't feel like we're at the end of our rope all the time. (Well, I still frequently do, but I blame that on being the mother of three little boys, rather than on one particular boy!) Mason and Hays are happier because they get more attention and Will doesn't drive them crazy all the time by wrecking their stuff. Life is better, and it's because of Ritalin.

I still think there are a lot of children that are unnecessarily medicated. And I know that Ritalin isn't a perfect solution. Trust me, I've read the articles, I know the risks, I have my concerns. But right now, the benefits outweigh them. So that's what we're doing. And I'm sure some people will think I'm wrong, or worse, that I'm a bad mother. I'm okay with that because I truly, in my heart of hearts, think I'm doing what's best for my child. And that's all any of us can do, right?

To be Gifted, Or Not to be Gifted, That is the Question...

I have a quandary. It is a Mason-related quandary, as they frequently are. I had a phone conference with his teacher yesterday. Don't worry- it was a good thing. It's conference week at school, and he's doing so well that she didn't even request an actual in-the-classroom sit down, just a phone chat to let me know how he's doing. The good news is, he's really smart, excellent reader, great at math, enthusiastic student- all stuff that made me very proud. He's so smart in fact, that she wants to give him accelerated work to see if he would do well in the gifted program. Therein lies the quandary.

See, I know Mason's smart. And I know he's totally got the brainpower for the gifted program. The problem is, I don't know that he's got the motivation. Because even though he's smart as all get out, he's also laaaaaaaaaazy. That boy doesn't want to do one speck more work than he absolutely has to. And he will rush through it like his pencil's on fire to get it done so he can move on to the stuff he wants to do. Stuff like watching Sponge Bob, or playing Lego Universe. Nothing but the loftiest pursuits for my boy. And homework is a nightly battle that often ends in smartmouth attitude (his), yelling (mine), frustration (both), tears (mostly his), and drinking (usually mine).

And quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready to amp that battle up any more. I mean, obviously I want to give him every academic opportunity, push him to succeed, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera..... But really, I just don't know how much more of the homework-related nonsense I can take. Lord knows I spend enough time fussing at him. I'm not sure I want to invite the opportunity for more!

We're, of course, going for it. What the hell else was I going to do? Tell his teacher, "Ummm thanks for wanting to challenge my child and help him achieve more academically, but I'm going to have to pass. I don't feel like arguing with him about homework." Yeah, right. So we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, he'll enjoy the challenge and find the work interesting. Maybe. If not, we might be the first parents ever to keep our kid out of the gifted program because it's too much trouble!

Family Fun on the Farm

So here are some cute kid pictures for you. We had a lovely weekend of wholesome family fun. The farm where we go to pick strawberries in the spring has a pumpkin patch and tons of activities in the fall. We'd never taken the kids, so we decided this was the year. The fun starts right out of the parking lot where you hitch a ride on a hay wagon to the back part of the farm.

Yay, hayride!!!!!

We watched a couple of pig races, the kids checked out the vortex tunnel (a stationary walkway through a spinning, black-light painted tunnel. Kids loved it, I thought I might vomit), and the we did the corn maze. Well, the mini corn maze. I'm not sure the kids (or I) were up for the big one!

Mason and Hays in the corn maze

Sweet Will

I spy Haysie!

After the corn maze and a few turns on the huge slide, it was time for the jumping pillow. I'd never seen one, but it's exactly like it sounds. A huge, rubbery mat in the shape of a pillow, filled with air. It has a firmer surface than a moon bounce, and the kids really liked it. Hays kept getting too close to the edge and bouncing off the side, but he thought it was funny.

Wheeeeee!!!

We checked out the petting zoo- chicks, some bunnies, a pig, a few goats, the usual.

Then we spent a good bit of time at the water pumps, racing rubber ducks. Mason and Will really liked pumping the water (Will needed a little help). But Hays mostly wanted to play with the rubber ducks. There were some tears when he had to leave the ducks behind to go on to the next activity.

 

But he stopped crying when we told him it was time to ride the cow train. He'd been wanting to ride it since we got to the farm. We got him buckled in, he was all smiles, super excited. Then he realized that train was pulling out without mommy. Cue the tears. We buckled him in with Mason and thought that wpould solve the problem, but no. More tears. Finally, we gave up, took him out and sent the train on its way, sans Hays. And wouldn't you know that the minute he realized his brothers were going to ride the train without him, he started crying again! You can't win.

Hays might have cried, but Will was all about it!

After the train ride, the kids climbed the hay mountain.

I'm king of the world!!!

Then we checked out the corn cannon and the pumpkin slingshot. The corn cannon was like a big, hydraulic potato gun. It was cool, but kind of loud when it fired. Mason and Will liked it, but it scared Haysie half to death. More tears. In fact, three days later he's still talking about how "the kern cannon scared me!" So it was time to wrap up the family fun at the farm.

Despite the tears, all three kids had a really good time. And I have all these lovely pictures to share with you. Almost worth the $52 we had to spend on admission!

Second Life

Matt told me a story this week about how he and his coworkers discovered that an employee at one of their client sites was spending a lot of work hours playing the online game "Second Life." I'd heard of it, but wasn't really sure what it was all about. From what I can surmise, players create a character and live out an online life. They can go different places, interact with other characters (and those interactions can apparently get quite, ahem, adult...), whatever they want to do. I found it kind of odd, but I have to admit, kind of intriguing. Not the game itself, but the whole concept of a second, alternate life. It made me kind of wonder what my second life would be.

If you look at it from the point of "what would I be doing if I wasn't doing this?" Then my answer would be pretty boring. If I wasn't living this life, I'd probably be chasing this life. See, the only thing I've consistently wanted to be throughout my life was a wife and mother. I know. Who dreams of being a housewife? How boring is that? But it's true, that's all I've ever wanted to be. Well, not all.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a horse trainer. But since I quit riding at 12, that's probably not going to happen. As a high school drama geek, I wanted to be an actress. But lack of any real talent pretty much makes that a bust. Oh sure, I can do a kickass dramatic reading of How Does a Dinosaur Say Goodnight or If You Give a Moose a Muffin, but I'm unlikely to take the Great White Way by storm. So the one dream that I actually had a chance of being good at was the one I pursued. And had I not gotten married at 24 and had a baby a year later, I'd probably be out there trying to find a husband so I could settle down and be a housewife! What can I say, I'm living the dream.....

So the "road not taken" idea of a second life is boring as hell in my case. But what if you look at it from the alter-ego point of view? As far as I can tell, people playing Second Life create a character that's someone they'd like to be, not someone who bears any resemblance to who they actually are. And that's kind of interesting. Who would you be with no constraints? What would you look like if genetics had no say? What would you act like if there was no fear of repercussions?

If I was going to create an alter-ego, she would be a total badass. She'd be way taller, have a much better body, and have bigger (perkier) boobs. Style wise, I'm thinking definitely retro sexy pin-up girl. Kind of a cross between Dita Von Teese and Danielle from American Pickers. Oh, and they're both burlesque girls, so I bet she'd do that too. She'd be ridiculously cool. She'd probably have tattoos. Oh, and roller derby. She'd definitely do roller derby because those girls are cool, and tough, and sexy. Yup, that's the alter-ego I'd create. And I bet she'd have a really cool second life- lots of adventures that I'd never even dream of.

She would, no doubt, be miles cooler than I ever will, but that's okay. I'm more than content to leave my imaginary counterpart in some alternate universe, because while it's fun to imagine other possibilities for myself, I've got the life I've always wanted right here.

Bazombies

If I had my way, the little boys would never watch anything but age-appropriate, educational television. PBS kids, with some Disney sprinkled in- good, wholesome stuff. When Mason was their age, I pretty much managed to contain his viewing habits to the things I deemed appropriate. Oh sure, Daddy would occasionally sneak something in that I didn't really agree with (Transformers, anyone?), but it was mostly mom-approved. As Mason got older, started school and was influenced by other kids, new things started to sneak in. In started small with stuff like Cartoon Network, then the Nick tween stuff like iCarly started to appear. I finally gave up when he got hooked on the unholiest of them all- Spongebob. But I was still keeping pretty tight rein on the twins.

Until recently. Matt decided that watching Spaceballs, the 80's Star Wars spoof movie, would be a fun Saturday activity for him and the boys. Well, it was fun all right. So fun in fact, that Will became obsessed with it, wanted to watch it every day, and insisted for a month that everyone call him "Dark Helmet." That obsession passed about a month ago when Mason thoughtfully introduced them to Michael Jackson's Thriller video.

Mason had been learning the dance in PE, so Matt and I let him watch the video. Mason showed it to his brothers, and voila, a new obsession was born. Now I hear about werewolves and zombies (or "Bazombies" as Will calls them) day in and day out. They play zombies and werewolves, they run from "the thriller" in the backyard, they know the dance- complete with zombie head-twitch and monster claws- and they do it everywhere. At preschool (in front of the whole class), at the pediatrician's office (thank goodness our doctor rocks and was totally amused), the playground, EVERYWHERE. And forget calling Will by his name. He will swiftly correct you, "No, I a bazombie...."

Since it's hilarious, I gave up trying to fight it. I embraced it and bought them zombie shirts. Will wants to wear his every single day. And they are awfully cute.



They think they're scary....

Super-scary in fact...

But it's hard to be scared of a zombie.....

When he's this cute!!