Way Down Yonder in the Paw-Paw Patch

GRUMBLING, MUTTERED COMMENT FROM THE BREAKFAST TABLE THIS MORNING . . .

2010-01-25T11:14:00.003-06:00

"Superman would never eat oatmeal."

-Aleita, age 5

AND A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM . . .

2010-01-20T15:48:00.011-06:00

Last Friday morning, I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast with Maggie and Aleita while scanning the headlines of the front page of the day's newspaper. Studying the paper across the table, Maggie said to me, "Why is that woman screaming?"

(AP Photo/Gerald Herbert)

She was looking at a picture of a Haitian woman. The picture was almost painful to see - - her anguish was so apparent. It was no wonder it had captured her attention. I read the caption to her: Cindy Terasme cries after seeing the feet of her dead 14-year-old brother, Jean Gaelle Dersmorne, at the rubble of the collapsed St. Gerard School in the aftermath of the earthquake in Port-au-Prince, Thursday, Jan. 14, 2010. We had discussed the earthquake earlier in the week at dinner one evening, and she had talked about it at school and at youth choir as well. However, I don't think it truly hit home with her until she saw the pain and despair written all over that young woman's face.

Maggie has heard about the struggles of the Haitian people before. One of the members of our church, Linda Damery, is involved with a not-for-profit organization that organizes medical mission trips to Haiti throughout the year. Linda, an RN, has been to Haiti multiple times as part of the mission team. She has brought back pictures and stories of the people she has served while in Haiti and has shared them with our congregation.

Maggie and I sat at the table that morning and discussed what this devastating earthquake meant for the people of Haiti. We discussed how most of the people in this country live without enough food to eat or clean water to drink. We talked about how most of the children there do not get to go to school. We talked about the lack of electricity and adequate shelter and clothing and the absence of medical care. We discussed how the earthquake had made their already unfathomably difficult lives that much more so.

She sat there quietly for a minute, then said to me, "Can I give them the money in my bank?" The money in her bank is money she has received for her birthday and from doing chores around the house. This stash is what she has been saving to purchase clothes for her American Girl doll during our next excursion to Chicago. I said to her, "It's your money. You can do with it what you want."

She gave a small smile, and satisfied, went back to eating her breakfast. And just like that, my nine-year old showed me despite all the greed and ugliness that exists in this world, there is yet so much good. That evening, we counted the money in her bank and found that she had $59.93. We topped it off to make it an even $60.00. I hugged her and told her how proud I was of her. She said, "I have enough stuff. This will help someone who really needs it."

On Sunday, Maggie brought her Tootsie Roll bank to church and dumped the entire thing in the special offering plate being passed around for donation for the Haitian relief fund. Chris and I matched her donation, and asked that all of them be sent to FOTCOH - - The Friends of the Children of Haiti - - which is the organization with which Linda volunteers.

So I give you the Maggie Tootsie Roll bank challenge....here is the link to FOTCOH. http://www.fotcoh.org/ On the front page is a link where you can directly donate to the organization. Take some time on the website while you are there and learn about this amazing, giving charity.

www.fotcoh.org

PRESS ONE FOR ENGLISH

2010-01-12T13:49:00.009-06:00

Yesterday afternoon, I had to contact A. T. & T. about our business phone lines. Rather than being given choices and punching a number on the phone to generate my answer, I instead had to vocalize my responses. I always feel ridiculous when I do this - - I find that I have to really enunciate my words as well as speak in raised voice….otherwise it will say, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand….let’s try again.”

Yesterday was no different. Bound and determined that I would not spend any more time than absolutely necessary stuck on the phone call, I sighed and played its little “I don’t understand you” game. The next time it asked the question, “Do you have a business account with us?” I loudly responded, “YYYYEEESSSSS.” One of my co-workers passing by my office door shot me a quizzical look that likely translated to “I think you’ve finally lost it.” He, of course, had no way of knowing that I was not dealing with a deaf and dim business associate, but rather with a hearing-impaired perfectionist computer. From what he could hear on my end of the conversation, it went something like this:

“YYYYYEEESSSSSS.”

“NNNOOOOOOO.”

“LONG DISTANCE RATES.”

LOOONNNNNGGG DIISSSTTTAANNNNCCCEEE RRRRRAAATTTEESSS.”

“YYYYYEEEESSSSSS.”

And so on. After being led through this absurdly long series of prompts, I was ultimately placed in a waiting cue to speak to a real-live human being. The system informed me that my wait would be at least ten minutes. I put the phone on speaker and worked on some other things at my desk while I listened to some snazzy muzak that was interrupted about every thirty seconds by a computerized voice that thanked me for waiting and reminded me that my call would be answered in the order that it was received.

After waiting on hold for about fifteen minutes, I began to fret that one of the following two things would happen - - I was afraid that either:

A. The moment my call got picked up by a real-live person, he/she would do something to disconnect me and then I would have to start all over again.

B. that I would get that guy/gal that you can’t understand….the one who speaks such heavily accented English that you struggle just to piece together a few words.

Scenario B happened to me a few weeks ago when I had to call about an internet order I had placed to Snapfish for pictures. The man at the call center (that I can only assume must’ve have been located in the middle of India) could scarcely patch together three words of discernible English….and this was after waiting fifteen minutes to speak to a person. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: I need to speak with someone about a recent order I placed.

Him: dfjiwe order number f09di8sd foisd sdfjsdids provide dsfji0adgkoa?

Me: Did you just ask me to give you the order number?

Him: fsjio yis sdfj.

Me: OK - If you just asked me for my order number, it’s 3562945.

Him: cmripbvf problem msd fioa mscdkol bmdi help?

Me: I’m sorry, could you repeat that?

Him: CMRIPBVF PROBLEM MSD FIOA MSCDKOL BMDI HELP?

Me: I don’t understand what you’re saying.

Him: sfjioer order sdfmi sdfio this fjsido?

Me: (sigh)

This phone call that should have lasted about three minutes took close to twenty because he had to repeat himself so many times. After I disconnected from the phone call, I was still unsure as to whether we had resolved the situation or not. (I did get the proper replacement order soon after, so apparently we did manage to hash out an understanding. I was dreading having to call back again, so thank goodness for that miracle.)

I wonder if companies even care that when they create foreign call centers staffed by barely-English speaking representatives to handle their problems, it makes me as a consumer not want to use their services anymore. Perhaps the amount of money they save in not having the call center staffed by people who speak perceptible English outweighs the amount of money they lose in customers who take their business elsewhere. I don’t know.

It turns out that neither of my fears were realized in the case of the A. T. & T. business call yesterday. After an almost 25 minute wait, the customer service representative came on the phone speaking pitch-perfect English. I almost wept with joy. He was polite and knowledgeable and did a great job handling my account. I wasn’t thrilled about the wait time or the yelling in a carefully enunciated voice at the beginning of the call, but at least I could understand every word that this guy said to me. And, when I hung up the phone, I was fairly confident that my issues had been resolved.

We take what we can get, don’t we?

A LITTLE LIGHT FRIDAY READING. . .

2009-12-11T09:37:00.003-06:00

Police: Drunk woman passed out on horse

SHELBYVILLE, Tenn., Dec. 10 (UPI) -- Police in Tennessee said a horse rider participating in a Christmas parade was arrested when she drunkenly passed out atop the animal.

Shelbyville police said they received a report during Saturday night's Christmas parade of an apparently inebriated woman "wearing a red coat who was riding on a white horse" in the parade, but officers could not locate the woman or her mount on the Shelbyville square, the Shelbyville Times-Gazette reported Thursday.

Investigators said they found Patti Lynn Moore, 46, sleeping on top of her horse outside a North Cannon Boulevard motel about 15 minutes after receiving the report.

Moore was arrested and charged with public intoxication. She was released after posting $500 bond.

http://www.upi.com/Odd_News/2009/12/10/Police-Drunk-woman-passed-out-on-horse/UPI-78611260463496/

JUST WHAT YOU ALWAYS WANTED. . .

2009-12-08T09:31:00.013-06:00

I was browsing through the LL Bean catalog that came in the mail yesterday, in the section titled "Out of the Ordinary Last Minute Gifts." Though I was hoping for inspiration for some of those hard-to-buy-for people on my list, I came up short here. I didn't find anything that screamed someone's name to me. One item I did find provided amusement though. For those of you who are wondering what to give to that incredibly lazy child on your list, I have found the perfect gift:For the low, low price of $14.95, you can buy the "SNOWBALL/SNOW BLOCK MAKER SET." The description states, "Lets kids build their own forts and fill them with perfect snowballs."

When I was growing up, we had snowball and snow block makers, and they were called our hands. Believe it or not, they were free and did the job just fine. In fact, my brother and I built some pretty impressive snow forts in our time, several that featured multiple rooms, most that boasted slides off the tops, and one that I recall even had a stained glass window. No kidding - - we figured out that if you froze water in a bar pan and added food coloring, it made something of a stained glass window (not a very attractive one, of course, but who else can brag that their snow forts featured such striking attention to detail?) You will have to keep in mind that we grew up on a farm, so we already had lots of drifts to work with, plus a dad that used a tractor and blade to push the snow into big piles. Still, we put a lot of work into the making of our "snow mansions" . . . . all without the assistance of the LL Bean Snowball/Snow Block Maker. Just think of the amazing projects we could have completed had we had this fantastic tool! We had no idea just how deprived we were.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SUCH OBVIOUS NEED FOR THE

LL BEAN SNOWBALL/SNOW FORT BLOCK MAKER?!?

READY OR NOT . . .

2009-12-02T13:05:00.006-06:00

Last night, I stopped at my grandparent's house and took a look around for the last time. When dad called me a few weeks ago and told me that the house has a buyer, I wasn't sure that I wanted to do so. The last time I was in the house was in August when all my grandparent's belongings were auctioned - - on that day, as I watched the furniture being carried out and saw the house emptied, it really hit me that I was seeing an era come to an end. The home has always been in my dad's family, and has been my grandparent's home since before I was born.

When my grandmother died in October 2008, I knew that this day would come at some point. It’s funny how there are certain things in your life that you think will always be there – then one day, they’re not. I never imagined a time when I couldn’t just walk right up to the door of that house and not walk right in.

Now it will belong to someone else who never knew my family gathered around the massive dining room table (that had so many leaves that it practically spread into next week.) The folks buying the house never knew a time when apple trees stood in the side yard (or knew that my brother and cousins and I would use the fallen apples as projectiles in a sometimes-painful game of apple tag.) They never saw my family all gathered on the front lawn and on the porch to watch the annual parade in August (and catch the massive amounts of candy.) They never knew us watching movies shown with an old-style movie projector, playing Dominoes at the table, or running through the dining room and making the dishes shake in the china cabinet.

During the last few years of her life when my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s had gotten bad, I didn’t think much about these things. I realized, of course, that things would change, but it was something that was going to happen LATER. When Grandma could no longer take care of herself and had to move to a nursing facility, her home kind of went into a state of suspended animation. When it unfroze and everything was piled onto rack wagons and carried out for auction, the finality of it became truly apparent. Perhaps it is just always difficult when another connection to your childhood is severed. I have no desire to return to my youth, yet that doesn't stop me from waxing nostalgic for those times every now and again. As I took that final look around last night, I realized that ready or not, LATER had arrived.

ALEITA THE PILGRIM

2009-11-24T21:18:00.001-06:00

WHAT DO YOU EXPECT??

2009-11-23T12:04:00.005-06:00

Aleita's kindergarten class had their Thanksgiving play this morning at her school. The parents (or whoever the kids' guests were) could then stay for lunch with the kindergartener. The play and songs that the kids performed were very cute - - what is not to love about a bunch of little kids dressed up as Pilgrims and Indians? (Aleita was a Pilgrim, which was bad casting in my opinion. Regular readers of my blog and those that know her can agree that she is much more of the Indian variety.) At any rate, she made a pretty cute Pilgrim with her braids sticking out from beneath her little white paper bonnet.

After the performance, the kindergarteners went back to their classroom to remove costumes, then met up with their guests to go to lunch. I discovered that it only takes a brief witnessing of parent/child interaction at your child's school to reaffirm the belief that perhaps you are not doing such a bad job at being a parent after all. The mother that sat beside me at the lunch table had brought a younger child with her who was perhaps three years old. Her kindergarten son and three year old daughter spent most of the time at lunch throwing things back and forth at one another while the mom begged them in a whiny voice to stop.

The parents of the child who sat across from us had packed their child's lunch - and what a healthy alternative they had offered him in place of the cafeteria lunch: The kid had a vat of cheese spread and a roll of crackers. The tub of cheese spread was the kind you get when you order from a school fundraiser - - probably enough for ten people to easily share it - - yet here was this five-year old boy, happily consuming 100 grams of fat in one sitting. Toward the end of the meal, he said to his dad, "I want some of your applesauce," then without hesitation, proceeded to dip his index and middle finger onto his dad's tray into the applesauce and shovel it into his mouth. His dad simply said, "here's my spoon if you want some," as he handed him a utensil to use.

The funny thing is, when I have volunteered in Aleita's classroom, I find that most of these kids are actually fairly well-behaved and pretty nice little kids. When I used to teach elementary school, I often noticed the same thing - - kids will usually live up to whatever set of expectations are provided to them. I had many parents that wondered why their child would behave so much better for me than they would for them. My five-year old is certainly no angel, but you can be sure that if she took her fingers and dipped them into the food on my plate, I would be sure to give her something - though I doubt it would be a spoon.

LAST ONE THERE IS . . . .

2009-11-15T17:25:00.008-06:00

Today, Chris and I drove separately to church because I had chimes practice 1/2 hour before Sunday School. (yes - we drove both cars the whole two blocks to the church - - it was raining, cut us some slack!)

After church, Aleita decided to ride home with me, and Maggie with Chris. Aleita, ever the competitor, said to me, "Hurry up, Mommy! Beat them home!!" She was ever-so-impatient with me as I did the responsible-mom thing and made sure she was properly buckled into her seat belt.

As if to provide additional incentive to me, she yelled, "C'mon! The last one home's a rotten chicken!!"

Rotten chicken....rotten egg.....so close.

(By the way, we ended up as the "rotten chickens." They beat us home.)

HALLOWEEN 2009

2009-10-31T21:42:00.002-05:00

SUZI HOMEMAKER

2009-10-30T22:57:00.004-05:00

Thanks to my friend Michelle for sending me this link. This commercial seems so antiquated, yet if my older daughter saw this, she would want every single thing mentioned.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3rAiii4LA3k

WAL-MART - - THE PLACE THAT REALLY DOES HAVE IT ALL

2009-10-29T10:37:00.013-05:00

My mom has often referred to Wal-Mart as the "gettin' place" because you can get just about anything there. Gettin' place, indeed. I was listening to a news program on the radio yesterday on my way home from work. One of the news items they mentioned is that Wal-Mart, corporate giant extraordinare, is now selling caskets online. Yes, you read correctly - - the nation's best known big box store is now hawking specially priced coffins for those discount-minded folks that want to lay their love ones to rest without blowing the bank.

I visited Wal-Mart's website and browsed through their selection of caskets which range in price from $895 to $2,899. The "site to store" option is not available for caskets....you have to have it shipped directly to your home. I suppose it would be awkward to go to the service desk to pick up a 250 pound steel coffin anyway. How embarrassing to have to wheel out Grandma's final resting place past the softener salt display and the people buying their groceries. Knowing my luck, I would probably get the cart with the janky wheel and end up accidently smashing it into the shampoo display outside the Wal-Mart Smartstyle Hair Salon.

I was also curious about shipping time. The Wal-Mart site says that it can take 24 - 48 hours to process the order before it is shipped, and it quoted total time until delivery as anywhere between 2 - 5 days. Some questions come to mind:

1) Where does the dearly-departed hang out until their burial chamber arrives?

2) How would you make funeral arrangements if you are unsure when the casket will arrive? Does the newspaper obituary read: "Funeral time TBA, pending casket arrival."

3) Often when someone dies, the loved ones are so grief-stricken that they have trouble putting together the arrangements. In order to facilitate the soonest arrival possible of the casket, do they have to dry their tears, get online, pick out a casket, then resume grieving?

4) Some people make their own funeral preparations ahead of time which saves money, expedites the process, and doesn't leave loved ones having to deal with arrangements while they are racked with grief. Would it be considered odd to order your own casket from Wal-Mart and keep it in the basement until needed?

Finally, I am wondering what others would think of you if then knew you ordered the dearly departed's casket from Wal-Mart. Would they think you as prudent and savvy or cheap and callus? Would they applaud your decision to be budget conscious in these lean times, or would they whisper viciously to each other during the funeral service about what a skinflint you are?

Oh yes - - and would the casket have one of those sunshine yellow happy faces emblazoned on the side?

If you would like to check out Wal-Mart's casket

selection, here is the link.

http://www.walmart.com/search/search-ng.do?search_query=coffin&search_constraint=0&tc=0&ic=48_0&ref=+125874.425084&tab_value=27_All

WHAT ARE YOU BUYING? HMM . . . . DEPENDS . ..

2009-10-23T15:43:00.008-05:00

I was at Target a few nights ago picking up a some things and got in line to check out. There were only a few people ahead of me, so the line was moving right along. Still, it was the end of the day and I was tired, and I caught myself staring wistfully at the Starbucks as I moved forward in line. The Starbucks is, of course, located strategically just beyond the checkout so that even if I wasn't thinking about wanting one, by the time I leave Target, I always do. I had to remind myself that I would be eating as soon as I got home, and didn't really need the extra few hundred calories from a Chai Latte.

As I was standing there, my thousand-yard-stare was interrupted by the man in front of me saying, "These aren't for me."

I blinked, focused, and looked at him to see what he was talking about. He was a guy in his early 40s, and was standing there very uncomfortably holding a package of adult diapers and waiting for his turn in line.

I hadn't actually noticed that he was holding a package of Depends until he pointed it out. Dude - two words for you - What. Ever. I am a complete stranger that you will never likely see again. Why feel compelled to tell me that you will not be using the disposable drawers you're toting around Target?

I missed a few beats while I took all this in. Finally, I very profoundly answered him: "OK," I said.

Perhaps an "OK" wasn't what he was looking for. Maybe he wanted me to tell him that I too shop at Target all the time for adult diapers for someone other than myself. He was apparently so hyper-sensitive about it that he felt obligated to further explain.

"These are for my father," he said. "He lives with my wife and me - has for past six months. These are for him."

He obviously wasn't going to let this go, but I didn't really know what else to say to him about the matter. Somehow, "good for you!" or "how about that!" didn't really seem appropriate.

Instead, I decided to try to add a little levity to the situation. I held up the package of Batman underwear I was buying for Aleita and said, "These aren't for me. They're for my daughter."

He just looked at me for a moment, rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly as if to say 'whatever' and turned back around. It was soon his turn to go through the cashier's line.

After his chattiness, I was a little surprised. I then quickly realized that he thought I was making fun of him, like "Yeah, those Depends are for your dad like these underpants are for my daughter. Right." I thought about trying to explain that my five-year old daughter is really into boy stuff -- superheroes, action figures, Power Rangers....thus, the Batman underwear. Then I thought, "who cares?"

GUY FROM THE LINE IN TARGET - -

IF YOU ARE READING THIS,

JUST KNOW THAT IT IS OK - - I BELIEVE YOU!

MR. BASS MAN

2009-10-21T10:38:00.008-05:00

Dear Mr. Bass Man,

I know you think that when you drive by with your car stereo thumpin' and people turn their heads to look at you, that it somehow means that they are very galvanized with you and your bitchin' stereo system. You seem to feel that we are all in awe of the fact that you can make our windows rattle from 100 feet away with your woofers or tweeters or flippers or waffles or whatever those impressive stereo components are called. It also seems that the louder your music is turned up, the lower you slide in your seat in the car. Sometimes I can barely see you over the dash because you have the seat tilted so far down. Perhaps all the vibration from the bass is weakening your muscular system and causing you to have the inability to remain upright. The same thing happened to my great aunt, but I think hers was caused by calcium deprivation. She could hardly see over the steering wheel in her car either.

I want to let you in on a little secret though, Mr. Bass Man. There is a reason that you never see any women driving a loud, bass booming car and sitting all tilted back in the seat. It is because we think you are ridiculous. We have no desire for our ears to bleed simply by taking a ride in the car. In fact, we find it kind of amusing that your stereo system obviously cost more than the car you are driving. Were you that kid in school that the teacher always wrote on your report card, "seeks attention in inappropriate ways."? I'll be willing to bet you were.

I know, I know....you are working hard to forge a certain image for yourself so that others will see you as a rulebreaker or a badass. You are just trying to carve out your niche and prove you are worthy of notice. But, when you are thirty years old and struggling with hearing loss and realize that you already need a hearing aid, just recall your glory days of cruising around in your rusty Cavalier with the bass a thump-thump-thumpin' and think about how cool you looked all tilted back in the seat with your hand draped over the steering wheel. I am sure you will think that it was all worth it.

QUARANTINED!

2009-10-17T22:39:00.005-05:00

Greetings from the Leper Colony. Today was a relatively good day - - though there was still lots of hacking and coughing and blowing of noses, it was the first time in a week that no one was running a fever.

For those of you who don't live in the neighborhood and haven't driven by and seen the big, flashing "PLAGUE" sign posted on the house, we are in isolation mode at the Hale household. A trip to the doctor yesterday resulted in a diagnosis of H1N1 for three of four Hales - - and also one of pneumonia for Maggie. Our kitchen counter now resembles a small pharmacy.

The fourth Hale (me) now has several new exciting hobbies, including drug dispensing, constant surface disinfecting, near-compulsive hand-washing, and putting my hand on my head to check for fever every time I sneeze.

The doctor said that if everyone is fever free over the weekend, they can return to their lives on Monday. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid this illness altogether. If not, at least I will have the couch to myself.

A WEE BIT

2009-10-16T21:07:00.007-05:00

Today I was eating lunch in Panera and I went to use the restroom. It was a two hole joint, and I opted for the non-handicapped facility. The water was running in the bowl as the toilet filled from a recent flush from a prior occupant. As I went to close the stall door, I noticed a dribble ring all over the seat. I quickly opened the door that I had begun to close and spied the culprit at the sink, washing her hands.

"Hmm...," I thought, "she can urinate all over the seat, but still belongs to the clean-hands club. Interesting..."

Said I, "Did you just come out of this stall?"

Said she, "Yes. Why?

Said I, "Because you peed all over the seat."

Said she, "I did?!?" (sounding all shocked and pious...c'mon....really??? You knew you did!! If you want to squat, fine.... but don't act all superior when someone calls you on your seat shower.)

Embarrassed, her cheeks turned pink. I gave her "the look" (it's similar to the "mom" look, but has a "whatever, bitch" attached to it) and proceeded into the handicapped stall. I was amazed to notice that she did indeed go into her previously desecrated stall and wipe up her mess. She then exited the bathroom. I know she was probably indignant, but it wasn't exactly a moment that she could go gripe about to her friends.

GOING AROUND

2009-10-15T20:04:00.010-05:00

Maggie and Aleita have both had the creeping crud this week. By creeping crud, I mean the flu. It's that thing that's "going around." Ask anyone. If I mention to someone that the kids are sick, they feel compelled to tell me that it is "going around."

Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.

Random Someone: Yeah. It's going around.

I think there are also several people in a competition (that no one wants to win) to see whose school district can have more kids out sick.

Me: The kids have both been sick this week. They have really high fevers and coughing and snotty noses.

Random Someone: Yeah. There were a million and a half kids gone from school today. It's going around.

The kids have begun to open their mouths like baby birds as I drop Tylenol and Motrin into their waiting maws. We have gone through a veritable forest of tissues this week. Their little noses are sore from all the blowing.

Aleita was sick from Sunday night through yesterday. She did go back to school today. She still has a cough, but was fever free all day yesterday. I could tell she felt better yesterday too - she spent Monday - Wednesday lying in the big chair in the living room and watching T.V. She would occasionally get down on the living room floor and spread out a game, but she would mostly just lie on the floor and look at it, rather than actually play it. Anyone who knows Aleita and her normal energy level knows that this behavior is quite a deviation from the norm.

Maggie still isn't back to school, and won't be tomorrow either. She continues to run a fever, though it is at least low-grade now. She still has body aches and a cough and is just overall, very lethargic. She stayed at Grandma's house today and is going there tomorrow as well. Even feeling crummy, Maggie was happy to go to Grandma's house. After all, convalescing at Grandma's is far superior to convalescing at home. When Aleita found out that Maggie got to Grandma's today, she had much sympathy for her sister's continued illness, noting, "NO FAIR!! When I was sick, I had to stay home!"

I have been waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop all week and for Chris and I to become the next victims. My hope is that the flu shots we received a month ago are of this strain and we will avoid the ick that has plagued the kids. (The kids got their flu shots too, but only a week ago, and it takes about two weeks for the shot to work.) Even so, every time I blow my nose or feel a slight twinge of discomfort, I put a hand to my head to check for fever and think, "Oh crap! I'm getting it!!" It wouldn't surprise me. It's going around, you know.

THIS WOULD HAVE COME IN HANDY THIS WEEK

BEAUTY EMERGENCY

2009-10-08T14:21:00.009-05:00

A few days ago, I was in the bathroom fixing Aleita’s hair in the morning before school. She had been in her bedroom playing with her Tinkerbell cellphone before I called her to get her hair done. She brought her phone along with her into the bathroom and played with it while I began combing through her hair.

With Aleita’s hair, she has two usual styles – braids or afro-puffs. Each has its unique advantages and disadvantages. The disadvantage to braids is that they take a lot longer to put them in and take them out, thus requiring more time to sit still. The advantage to braids is that in the morning, they are much faster than puffs because all we have to do is put hair oil between the rows. The advantage to afro-puffs is that they are much quicker to put in and take out than braids, but every morning, I take each of them out of the band (usually 2 or 4 puffs) and comb through them and oil her scalp, then put the puff back in. I will add here that two things Aleita hates are standing still and having her hair combed.

ALEITA IN BRAIDS

ALEITA IN AFRO-PUFFS

Given, the word “patience” is not often uttered in the same sentence as “Aleita,” and this morning was no exception. Her hair was in puffs, and she was in no mood to stand still and have her hair combed. She continued to play with her Tinkerbell phone as I did her hair, sparing no opportunity to convey her impatience with the beautification process. After an unfortunate tough hair snag, she said, “I’m calling 9-1-1 on you!”

The following dialogue took place on her Tinkerbell phone (keep in mind that every time she pushes a button on the phone, Tinkerbell responds with a few different messages):

Aleita: Hello, 9-1-1?

Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!

Aleita: Yes, I would like to report something bad.

Tinkerbell: Do you want to come fly with me?

Aleita: This woman here keeps pulling my hair. I need you to come and arrest her.

Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!

Aleita: She won’t let me go eat breakfast. She just keeps making me stand here.

Tinkerbell: What beautiful wings you have!

Aleita: She just pulled my hair again.

Tinkerbell: You would make such a good fairy!

Aleita: OK – I’ll tell her. Mommy, they said you need to stop or they’ll come arrest you.

We did manage to finish up her ‘do, get breakfast, and get on with the day. The police never did show up to haul me in my “crimes.” Next time, I may not be so lucky. If I get hooked up for excessive hair pulling, starving my children, and inciting extreme boredom, I hope one of you will come bail me out.

HELL IN A HANDBASKET

2009-09-30T10:31:00.005-05:00

Aleita stayed home sick from school yesterday. It was nothing too serious - - she woke up in the night snotty and coughing, and in the morning, she was wheezing quite a bit. She was visibly tired in the morning, and so I thought it best just to keep her home and make sure it didn’t turn into anything worse. She spent most of the day laying around and not doing very much – we played lots of games and she watched some movies.

At one point in the afternoon after she had finished a movie, I turned the DVD player off and changed the source on the television from the setting used for the DVD player back to the one where you can watch regular TV. Playing on regular TV at that moment was one of the afternoon soaps.

Before I even had a moment to react, the woman on the show said to her companion, “This whole thing has gone to hell in a handbasket.” He responded to her, “What did you just say?” and she said (again), “You heard me….this has gone to hell in a handbasket.”

I quickly switched the TV off, but apparently, not soon enough. Having been schooled about “hell” by her older sister, Aleita is familiar with the concept of the fiery down-below, so that word immediately caught her attention. Aleita said to me, “what does that mean?” I explained that it meant that things were really bad and they probably weren’t going to get any better anytime soon. I added, “It’s just something that grownups say sometimes.” I then changed the subject and asked her if she wanted to come help me with what I was working on. Aleita loves to be a helper, so she gladly agreed.

My project at that moment was stripping the wallpaper in the back entry hall. Fun stuff, I know. To a five-year old though, it was a grand venture. I gave her the scoring tool and she gladly made designs all over the wall with it while I worked on soaking the wall with DIF and stripping off the wallpaper that had apparently been applied with industrial-strength glue. After an hour with not very much progress, I sighed disgustedly and said, “UGGGHHH… This is a nightmare!”

She said, “What’s wrong?”

I told her that whoever had put the wallpaper up had done a very bad job, and it was going to take a very long time to take it all down. I also showed her where the wall had some damage that had been covered up by the wallpaper, but now I was going to have to figure out how to deal with it. I told her that it was just a lot worse than I thought it was going to be.

She looked at the holes in the wall and the wallpaper mess and then exclaimed, “this is going to hell in a hamper!”

Handbasket….hamper….so close….though stripping wallpaper is enough to make almost anyone agree that it is a project straight from hell. She was quite right about that.

HEADED STRAIGHT TO HELL......IN A HAMPER

HEY SWEETIE!

2009-09-23T09:46:00.003-05:00

“Here’s your change, sweetie,” said the clerk to me at the gas station this morning as she handed me back the difference. I collected my change and seriously fought the urge to say, “thanks, sugar.” She was all of maybe nineteen years old….and she had just called me “sweetie.” (though I’m sure that is also how she addressed the guy behind me, and the lady behind him.)

Honey….sweetie…..sugar….

I have to admit that it gets on my nerves to be referred to by one of these terms of endearment by someone I don’t know - - though it seems to annoy me more when it is by someone who was born about the time I was graduating from high school. Does this bother anyone else?

GALLOP AWAY

2009-09-16T21:30:00.003-05:00

The girls' school has a website that allows parents to check on their child's progress regularly. The teachers can input their grades, as well as add comments about assignments.

Tonight I was checking over both of the girls' accounts. One of the comments under Aleita's made me laugh - - under her marks for physical education last week, she had gotten an 80%. The teacher's remark made by the grade was "needs to practice galloping."

Better get my five-year old geared up for the next big P.E. test....she is going to gallop her butt off this weekend until she gets it right!! We will not have any gallop slackers in the Hale house!

A-CHOO!!

2009-09-14T08:52:00.002-05:00

When Aleita got up this morning, she sneezed seven or eight times before she had even made it out of bed. She came into the bathroom and got a tissue and blew her nose and said to me, “ I don’t think I should go to school today - - I don’t want to sneeze on everyone.”

I told her that I thought she would be fine once she woke up a little bit (she has some allergy issues, but they seem to get better after she is up and around for 20 minutes or so.) I said to her, “besides, if you have to stay home from school, you’ll just be bored.”

She thought for a minute and then said, “I know! We could go the zoo. The animals won’t care if I sneeze on them!”

Needless to say, if she is still sneezing, she is doing so on her fellow kindergarteners today…..not the alligators and the lemurs.

IT'S ALL FUN AND GAMES. . . .

2009-09-11T23:59:00.009-05:00

Well, Aleita is officially on her way to becoming a little mini-me. Like her momma, she is developing a strong penchant for playing games. I just realize how odd this sentence sounds - - I don't mean that she is learning to mess with people's heads (but I will be oh-so-proud once that day arrives, of course,) but I actually mean that she, like me, is a game player - - of the board and card variety.

When I was a child, even from a young age, I loved to play games. My brother and I spent a lot of time at my grandparent's house in the spring and the fall when we were little because my parents are farmers, and they took care of us while they were planting or harvesting. My grandmother was a "game player" too. I would say that she indulged me by playing games one after another with me, but I think she enjoyed it just as much as I did. By the time I was six or seven, I could play King's Corners, Canasta, Spit on Your Neighbor, and a few Poker varietals, such as Royal Rummy and Pokeno. Of course, we also knew the standards, like Yahtzee, Uno, Sorry, Rummikub, Rummy, and Monopoly. Even today, it is pretty typical to drop by our house on a Friday or Saturday night and find us playing cards or a game with friends - - one of our latest game obsessions is "Blokus."

Aleita is definitely following right in my footsteps. She has a whole stash of games in the living room, and as soon as she gets home from school each day, she digs one of them out. She prefers it when we play with her, of course, but if she can't find a willing opponent, she will play against herself. Her latest favorites are Trouble, Chutes and Ladders, Uno, Candyland, Spiderman Yahtzee and Memory.

And like me as a child, Aleita has learned that there are ways to up your odds of winning when playing a game. Specifically, she has learned how to cheat.

I was actually something of a game-playing prodigy....by the time I was 5, I had become rather adept at stacking the Uno deck in my favor. As soon as the bus would drop me off from my half day at Kindergarten, I would run in the house and hope that my dad hadn't gotten home for lunch before me. If the coast was clear, I would set to work getting our noontime Uno game ready. I always thought I was so clever that he never figured out how I managed to end up with all the "Draw Fours" in my hand during that first game.

Aleita hasn't learned deck-stacking in Uno just yet, but she has learned how to place the Memory cards so that she cleans up on matches before you even have a chance to blink. Last night, she asked me to play Memory with her. I told her to set it up, and when I finished what I was doing, I would play. It didn't take long once play started to figure out that I was going to lose that game.

I didn't even call her on her wily ways. Dare I say I was just a little bit proud?

LET'S GET COMFORTABLE

2009-09-10T16:15:00.008-05:00

As we were eating dinner last night, Maggie said to me, "Fix Dempsey's ear."

Dempsey, our Boxer dog, was sitting beside me as we ate dinner, and at some point, one of his floppy ears had flipped up. I said, "why do you care?"

She winced and said, "It just bothers me - it doesn't look comfortable."

I gave her a strange look and she said, "You know when someone's shirt collar is flipped up or their tag on their shirt is sticking out and you just want to fix it, but you don't even know them? That's how looking at his ear makes me feel. I just want to fix it."

Laughing, I straightened out his floppy ear (which of course, if we had waited 20 seconds, he would have done himself by shaking his head.)

The funny thing was, I knew exactly what she was talking about. I have had that exact feeling before - - feeling uncomfortable because of someone else's shirt tag sticking out, or collar being flipped up. I also get that feeling when I see a woman who has long hair and it is tucked into the back of her shirt or jacket.....or when I see a woman who has her bra strap twisted....or when someone's necklace clasp works its way around to the front.

What about you? What are some of those little annoyances that drive you crazy?

SOMEBODY FIX THIS GUY'S TAG!!!

BACK TO IT

2009-09-08T13:08:00.004-05:00

You know when you are in mixed company and someone farts, and everyone looks a little surprised, but no one says anything? That’s how we are going to treat this temporary absence of mine from blogging. Yes, it happened, but really, will talking about it change anything? Moving on….

So school has started and both of my kids are now “school agers.” School is much the same this year as last year for Maggie – she enjoys the social aspect of it all, she likes to read and write, and hates math. Right now, place value is her mortal enemy. We have already spent many hours, sitting at the kitchen table, working on tens and hundreds and thousands and oh-the-joy-of-it-all.

Aleita loves kindergarten like we knew she would. Aleita is up for anything that offers structure and provides a challenge. She has been excited to start kindergarten since this past April when she did her screening - - she was incredibly disappointed to find out that she would have to wait until August to start school. She thought she should get to start the next day.

The day she started school, Aleita arrived home pouty and upset. I asked her what was wrong and she explained that she was not given any homework, and since she was now a school-ager, she wanted homework. She settled for me giving her some words to write and some math problems for her “homework.”

Aleita’s biggest challenge is finding time at lunch to actually eat. After spending so much of her morning contained, once she has a moment of downtime, she simply has to let it out. Thus, she spends more of her lunch time talking than actually eating. Aleita is generally a slow eater anyway – she and my mom usually compete for the “last one done” award at family dinners. She is struggling with having a time limit placed on her at lunch because of the need to eat and leave so that other classes can use the cafeteria.

After the first full day of school, I asked, “what did you have for lunch today?” She answered, “pineapple.”

“What else?” I asked.

“I just ate pineapple,” she said, “and two drinks of milk.”

She explained that by the time she got through the line and sat down and started eating, it was time to leave. I asked her if she ate, or if she talked, and she said, “why can’t I do both?”

The second day was no improvement. When I asked her what she had to eat that day, she answered, “raisins.” Yep – that’s it. Raisins.

In kindergarten, they do have a snack and milk in the afternoon, so don’t take too much pity on her - - she is not forced to sustain herself all day on two sips of milk and a handful of dried grapes. We did talk with her about the need to eat her lunch and not talk so much, and I think things are improving. So far, she is not withering away, so that is a good sign. I would also hate to think we are spending $1.80 each day for a lunch that is only making it into the garbage instead of her stomach.

AN OPEN LETTER TO GOD

2009-05-15T20:54:00.004-05:00

Dear God,

I know you know best and there are reasons for everything you do, but I am respectfully requesting that the thunderstorms and rain stop for a little while. The farmers in these parts really need to get their crops in the field, and all these inches of rain are making that impossible. Could you hold off and send the rain towards the end of June? An inch or two a week from then end of June through late August that comes in a nice gentle shower would be desirable. My flowers and plants and grass do indeed love all this rain, but I really am thinking of the farmers and how much they need things to dry up so they can get in the fields.

Oh yes - - I almost forgot to mention that my five-year old has crawled in bed with me in the middle of the night three times this week during thunderstorms. Three people in a queen sized bed is not a good thing. I am tired and grumpy and when momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. Please - the thunderstorm thing (esp. in the middle of the night) - let's call that off for now, alright?

(and don't forget about the farmers.)

Thanks - and Amen,
Becky

LAZY

2009-05-08T17:13:00.003-05:00

(but really busy too.) Sorry for not writing lately. I'll try to step it up.

THE CASE OF THE DISAPPEARING CANDY. . .

2009-04-25T18:54:00.004-05:00

Maggie and Aleita just got done eating supper and asked if they could have some of their Easter candy afterward. Aleita started digging through her basket and said, "Where are all my Reese's Peanut Butter Cups? I know there were more in here!"

Hmm....I wonder where on earth they could have ended up???

OKLAHOMA CITY NATIONAL MEMORIAL

2009-04-20T14:54:00.009-05:00

On our recent trip to visit my family in Dallas, we spent the first night on the way there in Oklahoma City. The next morning, before heading on to Dallas, we went to the Oklahoma City National Memorial. Do you actually realize that it occurred 14 years ago yesterday? Do you remember where you were when you heard about it? I was a sophomore in college. I had just finished my morning classes and headed down to the sub for lunch with my friends. As we walked in, it was strange not to hear everyone laughing and talking. Instead, all eyes were glued to the big screen T.V. in the corner where they were showing the horror that had occurred that morning at the Alfred P. Murrah Building.

I am certain that I didn't completely understand the enormity of the situation at that time. It is strange how insulated most of us truly are from events of this magnitude. At nineteen, I recognized that what had happened was horrible, but couldn't make a direct association to my own life. After all, I didn't know anyone that had been killed or injured - - to be honest, I probably only actually knew even a handful of people that lived west of the Mississippi River at that point in my life. Let's face it -- at nineteen, most of us are pretty self-centered beings - particularly those of us who receive an extended childhood by going straight out of high school to college. The ramifications on humanity from terroristic acts wasn't something I could really wrap my mind around at that point in my life.

When we decided to make Oklahoma City our stopping point for the night on our trip, I knew that I wanted to visit the memorial before we left the area the next day. My nineteen year old self wouldn't have wanted to - - my thirty-three year old self couldn't imagine being in Oklahoma City and not taking the time to do just that.

I had heard it was a beautiful and touching memorial, but even I was unprepared for how moved I was by it. We entered through what they refer to as the "Gates of Time." There are twin gates at each end of the memorial that frame the area of the former Federal Building and mark the formal entrances to the Memorial. The East Gate bears "9:01 a.m." (representing the innocence of the city before the attack.) The attack occurred at 9:02AM. The West Gate then bears "9:03 a.m." (representing the moment in which lives were forever changed, and for the hope that came from the tragedy that had happened.)

As soon we entered the area, my eyes were drawn to the Field of Empty Chairs. I couldn't help but tear up. There is one chair for each of the 168 lives that were taken the day of the bombing. They stand in nine rows to represent each floor of the building, and each chair bears the name of someone killed on that floor. Nineteen smaller chairs stand for the children (there was a daycare for children of employees in the building.) Those small chairs were the hardest to look at, yet my eye was continually drawn back to them. In front of the chairs is a very shallow reflecting pool. It provides a very placid and soothing quality to the entire memorial.

There is a museum right next door to the site, but we opted not to go in. I don't think our kids (ages 5 and 8) could have handled it. I have heard that sometimes kids can be very intuitive about certain things involving death, and it was that way at the memorial with Aleita. When we got to the memorial, we had parked across the street. As we made our way up to it, Aleita grabbed my hand and held tight - - if you know Aleita or are a regular reader of my blog, you know that Aleita is somewhat of a "wild child." If anything, we usually have to rein her in and keep her from running ahead of us - -her holding my hand without being asked to do so was strange enough. However, before we could even make it up the ramp to the memorial (and even get a glimpse of it,) Aleita stopped in her tracks and said, "I don't want to go in there. It's not a happy place. I don't like it here." Talk about goose bumps. It was as if she somehow already had some knowledge of the horror and destruction and sadness that had happened there, though we hadn't said a word about it to either of them.

As we walked around the memorial, Aleita continually echoed her readiness to leave. It had nothing to do with being a bored kid - - she was quiet and subdued and quite clearly uncomfortable - - and she never let go of my hand. In fact, she asked me a few times to pick her up and hold her. I think that Maggie could sense the sadness that Chris and I felt as we walked through and read the information, but she was highly curious about the whole thing. She had dozens of questions, but God bless her, she has led such a sheltered life that she had such a difficult time just wrapping her mind around the fact that someone would actually want to hurt other people....especially children.

Though I think that the museum itself would have been interesting and moving and would have provided an even more in-depth understanding of that day, I know that it would have been more than either of the kids could handle. It showed footage from immediately after the bombing, pictures of the victims, artifacts from the bombing, and had audio from the bombing itself (recorded across the street at a meeting of the Oklahoma Water Board.) It is definitely something I want to see, but it will have to wait until the children are older.

I highly encourage you to visit the memorial if you get the chance. It is also worth your time to visit the website: http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org/index.php.

FUTURE PLANNING

2009-04-18T11:28:00.002-05:00

On the way to the Athletic Club this morning, the girls and I were talking about pets. The girls were talking about what kind of pets they wanted to have when they were adults. Aleita mentioned that she would have a dog and a cat. Maggie said she would like a cat, but wouldn't get one, since I am allergic to them. She said, "Mommy can't come to my house if I have a cat, so I'm not going to have one."

Aleita agreed and was silent for a moment. Then she said, "When Mommy dies and goes to heaven, then I'll get a cat."

At least she has something to look forward to.

SOMETHING THAT ONLY THE "LOCALS" WILL FIND FUNNY. . .

2009-04-17T22:45:00.005-05:00

Last week we went to visit my family in Dallas over the Easter holiday. As we made our way south (and west), we stopped the first night in Oklahoma City. We stayed on the top floor of the hotel, and as soon as we got into our room, Aleita pulled open the curtains and looked out the window and declared, "I CAN SEE THE BOODY WATER TOWER!!"

LITTLE SISTER

2009-04-17T18:02:00.003-05:00

Aleita just got done doing the ugly cry. She is currently sitting on the landing of the stairs, solemnly looking out the window at the neighbor's house and occasionally letting out a "huh, huh, huh" as a few tears roll down her face. She is staring at four happy kids jumping on the trampoline in the yard and hating every minute of it. One of those happy kids is her sister. Maggie is playing with three of her friends from school and laughing and having a ball. Aleita was not allowed to go with them. She is the saddest girl on earth right now.

Sometimes it just sucks to be the little sister.

I ALREADY KNOW HOW THIS STORY ENDS. . . .

2009-04-15T08:43:00.005-05:00

We recently visited my family in Dallas over the Easter break. On the Saturday before Easter, we went to an Easter Egg Hunt at my aunt's church. When we arrived, the children were lining up behind the roped-off area for their appropriate age division. As we started to walk the kids over to find their age group, a woman from the church came over and asked everyone to first go gather at the pavilion so that the minister could tell the kids the story of Easter before the egg hunt. I took Aleita's hand and started to walk with her over to the pavilion. On the way, we passed all of the playground equipment. Aleita looked at it longingly.

"Can I go play on that?" she asked.

"Not right now," I said, "They want to tell you the Easter story and then you can hunt for eggs," I explained.

"The story about Jesus?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"The one where they nail him to the cross?"

"Yes," I answered.

"The one where they roll away the rock and he's not there?"

"Yes," I answered.

"I know that story," she said, "I'm gonna go play until they're done."

FUN AT THE COWGIRL HALL OF FAME IN FORT WORTH

2009-04-14T20:37:00.005-05:00

ICE CREAM TRUCK

2009-04-04T14:03:00.008-05:00

As I write this entry, Aleita is sitting on the steps of porch, eating a bowl of grapes and forlornly watching the ice cream truck roll on up the street. About ten minutes ago, she came breathlessly running into the house, yelling that she heard the music from the ice cream man. I told her we were not getting ice cream today. Mainly, I let the ice cream truck roll on by because:

1) it is really expensive - - most items are $3 - $4, and I could purchase an entire box of the same ice cream treats for what one costs from the ice cream man

2) Aleita doesn't really even care that much for ice cream. She NEVER eats most of the ice cream treat she picks when we do get ice cream from the ice cream truck. Of a $3 treat, she eats about 50 cents worth.

3) perhaps I am just the meanest mom on the planet.

Aleita is more enamored with the idea of the ice cream truck than with the actual ice cream itself. Still, even though she knows she doesn't really like the ice cream treats all that much, it thrills her to no end to go out into the street and up to the window to peer at the selection of treats on the side of the truck. She loves to make her choice and have me fork over a wad of cash to pay for it. She then happily skips back to the house holding her ice cream, then after she eats about three bites of it, announces that she is finished and pitches the remainder in the garbage. I tell her that she is not going to get any more ice cream from the ice truck because she doesn't eat it and because it is expensive. She says she understands. Then, the next time the ice cream truck rolls around, she begs to start the process anew. This ritual never varies.

She was right about the ice cream truck being in the neighborhood today. He just rolled up in front of our house where she could get a perfect view of the kids with nicer parents and more expendable funds running up to the truck to get their treat. I held firm today - - no ice cream treats. (It was slightly easier because I didn't have TWO kids begging me at once, as Maggie is in Decatur with Chris at the moment.) I told her if she wanted a snack, I would be happy to get her one though --- she agreed, and I put some grapes in a bowl for her - -which is why she sitting on the front steps eating grapes while "all the other kids in the world except her get ice cream from the ice cream truck" - - according to her.

As you can see from the picture, this man and all his children go without shoes so that they can have those expensive ice cream treats from the ice cream man.

MADE WITH LOVE (AND PERHAPS A BLINDFOLD??)

2009-03-30T10:01:00.005-05:00

I know it's kind of frightening, but this lovely little creature is now adorning my desk at work. Maggie painted it at the after-school program and told me she wanted me to take it to work and use it as a paper weight. I kind of feel like I have a figurine from the Tammy Faye Baker collection sitting on my desk now. But no matter - - my child made it for me, and I will cherish it.

(OK - perhaps 'cherish' is too strong of a word.....)

WHY DID THE CHICKEN CROSS THE ROAD?

2009-03-29T19:04:00.005-05:00

A short while ago, Aleita was following Maggie around the house, doing her best to get smacked. I was actually surprised that Maggie didn't come to tattle on her. Aleita is tired and a little grouchy, so she is doing her best to "share the love."

For about three minutes straight, she continually asked Maggie, "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

The first time she asked, Maggie said, "to get to the other side," to which Aleita joyously responded, "No! Because there was a chicken party!!" Then she laughed and asked her again.

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Maggie sighed and responded, "because there was a chicken party."

Aleita giggled and said, "No! To get to the other side!" Then, she asked her again:

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Maggie, patience running thin, responded, "Whatever I answer, it's going to be wrong, so why don't you just tell me?"

Aleita said, "No! You have to tell me!"

Maggie ignored her and continued working on the picture she had been drawing.

Aleita persisted, "Why did the chicken cross the road? Why did the chicken cross the road? Maggie! Answer me.....answer me!! Why did the chicken cross the road!? Why did the chicken cross the road?!!?"

I decided to cut Maggie some slack and asked Aleita to come help me do the dishes from dinner. The child is apparently some freak-of-nature, because helping with the dishes is one of her FAVORITE activities. She happily complied, and in the process forgot all about the road-crossing chicken.

I told them they could play in their rooms for 15 minutes before bed -- she is currently doing her best to recruit Maggie to be part of the band that she is forming in her room. (to which Maggie keeps responding, "LEAVE ME ALONE!") I better go read them their stories and get them in bed before she writes a song about chickens.

LITTLE ANGELS

2009-03-25T14:20:00.007-05:00

As I was walking back to my office from downtown after lunch today, I was meandering along and looking in the various shop windows. In the display at one of the stores were angels of many different sizes and varieties, along with a fancy, hand-painted sign reading, “Children are a Gift from God.” As I walked a few feet further, I noticed that they also had a small sign on the door of the shop, right by the handle, which in bright pink letters read, “CONTROL YOUR CHILD! IF THEY BREAK IT, YOU BUY IT.”

Apparently God’s gifts have been wreaking a little havoc with the merchandise these days!

IF YOU GIVE A TOOT, YOU MIGHT POLLUTE!

2009-03-20T21:08:00.004-05:00

I have been in Chicago-land this past week for work. Yesterday, I actually did get a few hours of shopping in - - one of the things I picked up was a new shirt for Maggie. When I got home tonight and was unpacking, I had her try it on. It had a bird on it flying through the sky, and in fancy, swirling writing, it says, "Don't pollute my air." Maggie looked at it for a moment, but couldn't tell what it said because the writing was so loopy.

"What's written on this shirt?" she asked.

"Don't pollute my air," I told her.

She looked at me with a tiny grin and said, "I don't pollute the air....except when I FART!!" Then she laughed like a lunatic.

You gotta love eight-year old humor.

funny

2009-03-20T18:29:00.003-05:00

On the way to my meeting in Chicago-land today, I was stopped at a stoplight in the Palatine-suburbia area and saw this place. It cracked me up, so I took a picture with my camera phone and thought I would post it.

In case you can't read it, the name of the place is the "C'mon Inn."

CONFESSION

2009-03-17T08:39:00.002-05:00

If it weren't for the "beep" from my car when I hit the lock button on my key ring, I may never find it in the Wal-Mart parking lot. I know - I should pay better attention to where I leave it parked. Barring that, thank goodness I can make it "call" me whenever I have lost it.

FROM HUMBLE BEGINNINGS COME GREAT THINGS

2009-03-12T12:33:00.008-05:00

Maggie often asks questions about her adoption and about her birth mom - - she has a very natural curiosity about her background, and has since she was quite young. We have gotten very used to her occasional queries into the subject. (Aleita, on the other hand, may very well assume that she was descended from wolves because she has no interest in the subject of her adoption. The only part she cares about is the fact that we have an "Aleita Day" party for her every year to celebrate her adoption day.)

So a few days ago, when Maggie brought up the matter of her adoption, it was no great surprise to me. She wanted me to tell her about the day we actually went to the courthouse and her adoption was made final. I began to explain it to her, and when I got to the part about the judge she said, "There was a judge?"

"Yes," I answered her.

Her eyes grew wide and she gasped and said, "Was it Judge Judy?"

I laughed and explained that it was actually not Judge Judy, but a man named Judge Diamond.

"Were we on T.V.?" she continued.

"No," I told her, "We were at the Macon County Courthouse. Not nearly as exciting."

She seemed a little deflated that her adoption was somehow not as "flashy" as she was imaging it in her head. Truly, I wonder what sort of fantasy she had concocted in her head about the day of the adoption.

I do remember the day of her adoption quite well. We had fought for Maggie for almost 19 months in court (she lived with us since she was three days old though.) On the day of her adoption, we were in the courtroom with family and friends, and it was my turn to testify on the witness stand (which is just a formality once you have reached that point in the adoption process.) Maggie, however, was a very energetic toddler and did not want to be contained by sitting on a bench with her grandparents. She fussed and whined and made it clear that she wouldn't be happy until she was allowed to get down and walk. Since we were the only ones in the courtroom, the judge said, "just let her be - she won't hurt anything." Thus, my 19-month old went wandering around the courtroom while I was giving testimony on the witness stand.

She meandered all over the courtroom, winding her way among all the guests we had with us, up to the court reporter, and finally coming to see me on the witness stand. At that point, she decided to play "peek a boo" by bending down behind the wall and popping her head up and yelling "boo!" at everyone. She was a hoot, but it totally distracted me giving my testimony to the point that our attorney had to remind me to pay attention to his questions. When it was all said and done and the judge declared the adoption granted, I don't think there was a dry eye in the house. I cried out of joy, and I cried from the relief of knowing that our struggle was finally over and that she was officially ours, forever.

Not exactly the grand beginning that she had pictured, but yet, one of the very best days of my life.

Chris, Maggie & I - Maggie's Adoption Day, June 10, 2002

Our attorney (Garry Davis), Maggie & I - -

Maggie's Adoption Day, June 10, 2002

MOVE OVER, JESSICA SEINFELD

2009-03-09T19:52:00.005-05:00

For those of you that miss the reference in today's blog title, a few years ago, Jessica Seinfeld (Jerry's wife) published a cookbook called "Deceptively Delicious." It was full of recipes that featured sneaky ways to include nutritious fruits and vegetables in your everyday cooking without your kids realizing they had been duped into eating something healthy. Tonight, I got a little deceptive.

I started with chicken broth, and cooked carrots, a red pepper, and a half head of cauliflower until tender. Then I added some spices and some shredded smoky cheddar cheese. I took the whole thing and dumped it into the food processor and pureed it until it was creamy smooth, then returned it to the pan to stay warm. I cooked some chicken breasts on the grill to go along with it, and told my family it was "cheesy carrot soup."

Three out of four Hales gave it a thumbs up - - Maggie, Chris, and I all liked it, but Aleita wasn't a fan (she did at least try it though.) I was mainly overjoyed about my little experiment because I had managed to get my husband to eat cauliflower -- and compliment me on it! He is a fairly picky vegetable eater (though not as picky as some RITTERS I know.) He always deflects my attempts to get him to try new things when it comes to vegetables. Even if it is something I am fairly sure he will like, he will refuse to try it if there are certain vegetables involved. In that respect, my kids are much better eaters than he is. They will at the very least TRY something before they decide that they don't like it....and for the most part, they will eat almost anything.

I could hardly wait to announce my victory at the dinner table tonight. As soon as the last drop of soup was gone from his bowl, I proudly shared with him that he had just dined on soup containing CAULIFLOWER. He tried to downplay my victory by saying that I only got him to eat it by mashing it to bits and adding cheese, but I don't care. The fact remains that he still ate cauliflower. And liked it. Ha.

THINGS ARE HEATING UP

2009-03-03T17:31:00.008-06:00

Last night as I picked Maggie up from her Brownie meeting, I told her she could ride in the front seat on the way home if she wanted to. Before anyone freaks out and calls me a horrible mother and a child endangerer, please keep in mind that the meeting location is four blocks from our house, as well as the fact that my 8-yr. old is practically the same size as I am. Anyway - she was thrilled and thought she was big stuff because she got to sit up front. Hey - some kids are pretty high maintenance, but mine is thrilled with a ride in the front seat. . . how awesome is that?

I started the car and then we got buckled in and ready to roll. Earlier that day, I had driven to a lunch meeting along with another one of my co-workers. I didn't realize she had left the seat warmer on until Maggie turned and gave me a funny look and said, "My butt is getting hot."

I explained that the seat warmer must have been left on earlier, and reached over to flip it off. She said, "NO! Leave it on! I like it." It was a chilly evening, and the seat warmer did feel nice in the cold car. She then asked, "Do we have these in the back seat?"

I told her that they were only up front in my car. She had this look of awe on her face, then she said, "So everytime you and Daddy get in the car and it's cold, you turn these on?"

"Yes," I answered.

"That is so not fair," she protested. "No wonder you guys want to sit up front. I want butt warmers in the backseat!"

I explained that some cars are made with heated seats in the back, but mine just happened to only have them in the front. She thought for a moment, then asked, "Are Daddy's seats like this in his car?"

"Only in the front in his too." I answered.

She shook her head and let out a little noise of protest. Then she declared, "When I get big and have a car, EVERYONE will get butt warmers."

I can't say that I disagree with her. Now that I have had a car with seat warmers, I never want to have a car without them.

BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS

2009-02-27T21:19:00.005-06:00

My friends Alycia, Barbie, Gretchen and I spent last night in Chicago. We had tickets for this morning to attend a taping of the Oprah show. (No - I DIDN'T get a car.....but I did get to see Jennifer Hudson perform live, which was awesome.)

After the taping, we went to a great little restaurant called "Silver Cloud" that advertises its "comfort food." I was a little disappointed that chicken pot pie is only the dinner menu, but I made due.

Anyway, as we were getting ready to leave, Gretchen asked our waiter for a to-go bag so she could put the rest of her turkey club sandwich in it. She said to us, "Do you think I could find a homeless person to give this to?"

I should have prefaced this statement -- on the way to the restaurant, we saw a homeless guy with the required homeless-guy sign begging for money. Seeing him, she commented how much seeing homeless people disturbed her daughter, Andrea, because she feels so badly for their plight. Andrea has been so affected by the difficult situation for the homeless that she helps raise money for the Good Samaritan Inn (a local soup kitchen) as well as volunteers there at times. Since Gretchen still had half of a very good sandwich that she hadn't even touched (the portions were big), she hated to see it go to waste if someone who was hungry could have it.

As luck would have it, we DID see a homeless person as we came to a stop light after leaving the restaurant - he had the required homeless-guy sign and everything. Putting down her window, the guy beat feet to the car because he expected money, but instead Gretchen handed him the bag saying, "I have a turkey sandwich if you'd like it."

He pondered for a moment then said, "where's it from?" Clearly surprised, Gretchen stammered for a second, then answered, "Silver Cloud."

"OK." the guy answered. He then took the bag and hooked it on one of the posts of the nearby fence and went back to trolling for change among the cars stopped at the stoplight.

Forget what you've been told. Apparently, beggars CAN be choosers.

ENJOY IT WHILE IT LASTS. . .

2009-02-27T20:15:00.004-06:00

Tonight, I had Aleita help me dry dishes, put the dishes from the dishwasher away, transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer, and take the recycling items out to the garage to the appropriate containers. After we had completed these tasks, she asked if there was anything else she could help me do, and I told her that was it for the night.

She said, "C'mon! Can't we run the vacuum or dust?"

"Not tonight," I answered, "maybe tomorrow."

She pouted a little bit, then said, "OK. But I want to help you tomorrow."

I am recording this seemingly innocuous event so that years from now, when Aleita is older and reads all these wonderful stories that her mommy has written about her, she will know that there was once a time that she begged to do housework. Let it be known.

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN

2009-02-23T13:00:00.007-06:00

This past weekend, Chris and I went away with friends to Indianapolis. It was great to have some time with just the "grown-ups." It was great to take a trip where I was able to:

- sleep in

- not have to visit a children's museum

- only have to cut up my own meat at the table

- only visit the restroom when I needed to go

- have a conversation with adults without being interrupted every 30 seconds

- try on clothes in a dressing room without two other people being present who are making crazy faces in the mirror and fighting to sit on the little seat with each other

- visit a local artisan's fair without having to worry about my little whirling dervish taking out half the display

Of course, I was very happy to be back with my kiddos last night, and I could tell that even though they very much enjoyed their weekend at Grandma & Papa's house, they too were very happy to be back home with us. We collected them right after supper last night, and they were pretty tired. After baths and books, they were more than ready for bed.

Whatever lingering separation I felt from shifting from "grownup" to "mommy" came to a screeching halt this morning. I went into both of the kids' rooms to wake them up and get them stirring. Maggie made it up and to the toilet first, leaving Aleita bouncing around the bathroom, holding her bottom, telling her to "hurry up and get off the potty before the pee comes out!" I left them to it and went downstairs to make myself a cup of hot tea. Within two minutes, Aleita had joined me in kitchen, saying to me, "Guess what I'm missing!"

"Your tooth?" I asked.

"Nope." she replied with a grin.

"A holder from one of your braids?"

Again, she answered, "No!" with a silly smile on her face.

"I give up," I said to her.

With that, she lifted up her nightgown over her head and yelled, "UNDERPANTS!!" and then laughed like a fiend.

"Maggie took too long on the potty," she began to explain as she lowered her nightgown back down so I could again see her face.

With a sigh (anticipating cleaning up a mess) I asked, "Did you pee your pants?"

"No!" she said indignantly. "I just dribbled a little bit."

With that, she headed back up the stairs, all the while singing into her new light-up Hannah Montana sing-a-long microphone that she brought home from her grandparent's house this weekend.

Ah yes - - definitely back in the mommy role.

THOU SHALT NOT . . .

2009-02-17T08:18:00.004-06:00

For those of you who don’t know, I teach the Jr./Sr. High Sunday School Class at my church. This past Sunday, we were reviewing some of the lessons that we had done over the course of the past several months. I had set it up like a trivia game, with my students answering the questions.

One of the questions I asked was, “When the Hebrews were wandering in the desert, what did God send them so they wouldn’t be hungry?” Before fully listening and realizing what I was asking, my student Allison blurted out, “MOSES!”

I couldn't help it - - I started laughing at the shock of the thought of the Hebrews cannibalizing Moses. All I could picture was an old man with flowing robes, running through the desert while being chased by the Hebrews yelling, “DON’T EAT ME! EAT THE MANNA!! EAT THE MANNA!!”

FROM BAD TO WORSE

2009-02-10T15:17:00.004-06:00

I know it has been awhile since I blogged, but truth be told, my heart just hasn’t been in it lately. The past several weeks have been trying ones for me and my family. With everything going on in our lives, my motivation has been seriously lacking.

In early January, Maggie was diagnosed with juvenile epilepsy. In mid-December, Chris and I became aware of these “spells” she was having in which she would be in the middle of having a conversation or doing something, and all of a sudden, she would freeze and just stare off into space for about 10 -15 seconds. When it was over, Maggie wouldn’t even know she had done it. In fact, most of the time it was so subtle, that we chalked it up to her just having a “spacey kid” moment. However, after the spells started to become more frequent, something clicked with me and I realized she was having petit mal seizures - - except most doctors today call them “absence” seizures - - pronounced with the end of the word rhyming with “sconce” because everything sounds better when you say it with a French accent.

To make a long story short, after an EEG confirmed the absence seizures, Maggie met with a neurologist who put her on anti-seizure medication. The episodes have lessened but are not gone entirely. She is also having some difficulty with the medicine because it makes her sick to her stomach, as well as makes her sleepy. We are meeting with a different neurologist tomorrow, so hopefully things will improve more in the next few weeks.

The good news is that these type of seizures only occur in children. In all likelihood, she will outgrow them as she gets older. However, there is a possibility that they could develop into more serious, severe seizures as she gets older (which are now called “tonic clonic” instead of “grand mal” because apparently somebody decided that rhyming words make epilepsy much, much cooler.)

I thought that the year started off on a bad note, and that things would get better from here. However, just as we felt we were starting to get a handle on all this, our family experienced another major shock a few weeks back. My Aunt Linda, my mom’s sister, was diagnosed with brain cancer. She had been having some health issues over the past several months for which she had not been able to find any answers - - then a seizure that left her left side paralyzed sent her to the hospital in an ambulance, and a CT scan revealed the problem.

After an operation to remove the tumor, the doctor seemed pretty optimistic about the whole thing, and our family breathed a sigh of relief --- even with her left side still paralyzed, she had made it through the surgery, and the doctors seemed pretty positive that strong radiation and chemo pills would take care of the rest. We rejoiced, thinking that physical therapy could assist with the paralysis, and feeling so grateful that the cancer was at least treatable. However, a few days later, the more detailed pathology came back, and it showed Glioblastoma - - a very rapidly progressive and lethal form of brain cancer, already in the last stage. We could hardly believe it when we were told that in all likelihood, she would have 6 – 12 months to live. The elation we had felt just days earlier suddenly turned to grief and disbelief.

One of the other factors that makes Aunt Linda’s situation even sadder is that my cousin Teresa (her daughter) is pregnant and due in two months with their first grandchild. Teresa is one of those pregnant women who just GLOW - - she has been so happy and excited about this baby girl she is carrying. What should be the happiest time in her life has now become one of the saddest because she is racked with grief about the thought of losing her mom.

I could go on, but I think you get the idea. There are funny things that the kids do or say, or something comical that will catch my attention, and I think, “I should write about that….” but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I will return to blogging soon. Right now, writing about the day to day is just too hard with such a heavy heart.

STRANGER DANGER

2009-01-27T13:38:00.007-06:00

A few weeks ago, Maggie apparently saw something on T.V. or talked about something in school that sparked an interest in discussing STRANGERS. We have been having some intense discussions lately about what to do when someone that the girls don't know approaches them and tries to talk to them or persuade them to get in a car with them.

This topic is a serious matter, and we have been treating it as such. We answer all their questions, as well as reiterate over and over and over again the importance of staying safe and never getting into a car with someone they don't know. We have talked at length about how they should kick and scream and bite and hit if someone tries to take them. We have told them repeatedly that they should run in the house and get us if someone tries to get them to come outside the fence - - and that they should never engage in a discussion with an adult they don't know. We have tried to drill in their heads that grown-ups don't ask kids for directions or to help find lost pets, and that we would never send someone they didn't know to pick them up if we were hurt.

All this talk though has caused the girls to spin these elaborate stranger-danger stories, and at the end of them, they always want to tell us how they feel it should be handled. At first, we started out like this:

"If a stranger tries to get me to get in the car when I am playing out in the yard, I should run in the house and get you, right? If they try to grab me, I should kick them and scream and get away, right?"

"Yes," we answer. "Very good."

However, as time has gone on, the stories are getting more elaborate and filled with detail. A few days ago in the car, we were once again beating stranger-danger to death and Maggie said, "If I was walking to Barb and Greg's house and someone pulled up to the sidewalk and tried to get me in the car, I would run away and come tell you guys. But if you weren't home, I would run to Barb and Greg's and tell them. And if they weren't home, I would go to Ellen's. If the stranger in the car told me his dog was lost, I wouldn't help him look for it. If he said that you guys were hurt and in the hospital, and then tried to grab me and put me in his car, I would scream and say, 'MY DADDY IS A POLICEMAN AND HE ISN'T HURT AND YOU CAN'T TAKE ME!!' And then I would kick him."

Hearing this prompted Aleita to ask, "Who can I go with in a car?" We told her that if we ever needed someone to get her, we would send someone she knew well and trusted.

Aleita: "Like Grandma?"
Me: "Yes."

Aleita: "Or Barbie?"
Me: "Yes."

Aleita: "Or Aunt Stacie?"
Me: "Yes."

Aleita: "Or Rev. Ellen?"
Me: "Yes."

Aleita: "Or Diana?"
Me: "Yes."

Aleita: "Or Jeremy?"
Me: "Yes. Wait....who?"

Aleita: "Jeremy....the Schwan man."

Me: deep sigh. "No, Aleita. We wouldn't send the Schwan man to come get you."

In a crisis, you have to know who to call, right? Friends....family.....your minister.....the Schwan man.

If he'd let me eat the ice cream, I might be tempted to go with him too . . .

25 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ME

2009-01-25T21:36:00.001-06:00

Someone "tagged" me with a challenge to come up with 25 random things about me. This list has taken me two days to compile -- I thought it would be easy, but I found that I would think of a few, then draw a complete blank. So - - after two days of working on it off and on, here are 25 random things about me:

1. My snack food craving of choice changes on a regular basis. Last month it was Wheat Thin Crisps. This month, it is Del’s chocolate covered pretzels.
2. We really need to put an extra bathroom in the basement. Instead, we are taking the kids to Disneyworld in May.
3. The font I used most often is “Comic Sans.”
4. I don’t drink coffee, nor does my husband. We don’t even own a coffee pot.
5. I couldn’t go to sleep right away last night, so as I was lying there, I thought about what flowers I wanted to plant this spring in my yard.
6. I sleep with a fan on every night for white noise.
7. I don’t vote in primary elections because I don’t want to have to register a party affiliation - - did I mention that I work for an elected official?
8. I sing along in the car with the radio. I am sometimes self conscious of this when I pull up next to someone in traffic and I am the only one in the car.
9. I absolutely love Caller ID. Yes. Sometimes I screen the calls.
10. Some people say they drink red wine because it is good for them. I drink red wine because I like red wine. I am especially partial to Pinot Noir and red blends.
11. I started getting gray hairs when I was about 19 years old. If I didn’t color my hair, my natural hair color right now would be about half very dark brown and about half gray.
12. I never thought I would stay in central Illinois after college.
13. I have never felt more at home than I do living where we do now, in a small town, in central Illinois.
14. We put up a bat house in the fall in our yard and hope to have bats move in this spring. Bats are excellent for mosquito control. In the summer, mosquitoes are the bane of my existence because I have a horrible reaction to mosquito bites.
15. I sometimes wish I had a more unusual first name - - unusual as in unique, not weird.
16. Some people say that if they won the lottery, they would keep their job and continue to go to work every day. I am not one of those people.
17. The kids and I have been eating Clementines like crazy lately…..we go through about a 5 lb crate a week.
18. I have a bottle of hand lotion by every sink in my house and one on my desk at work. I hate it when my hands are dry, so I put hand lotion on every time I wash my hands.
19. I have my 14-digit library card number memorized because I use the online library system so much to order books.
20. The smoking ban in Illinois public places has made me even more intolerant of cigarette smoke.
21. I sometimes wonder what in the world I did with my time before we had kids.
22. I always take off my wedding ring when I put on my makeup.
23. I still think of my parents as young, yet my parents are older than my grandparents were when I was a child and considered them to be “really old.”
24. People think I am really good at remembering birthdays, but I have an online program that sends me an email a week ahead of time so I remember to send a card.
25. I love butterscotch sundaes from Dairy Queen.

WILL WORK FOR CAKE

2009-01-22T19:57:00.007-06:00

Aleita has had a somewhat rough week at school. She is still struggling with keeping her "high-spirited" ways in check at times during the day.

On Tuesday, she refused to nap, instead staying awake and singing a self-composed song to her teacher, Miss Jeanne, about her love of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Miss Jeanne happened to be sitting at a table near Aleita trying to eat her lunch (yes - you guessed it - - a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.) Aleita's act of serenading her favorite sandwich in and of itself would not have been so offensive, except for the fact that singing about it apparently roused a deep-seated hunger in her that apparently her own lunch only twenty minutes prior could not quell. Deciding to act upon her sudden need for PB & J, Aleita made a few attempts at actually taking Miss Jeanne's sandwich away from her. After being scolded and put back on her cot, Aleita was of course upset that her attempts at PB & J thievery had been thwarted. Her day was pretty much downhill from there.

Wednesday did not offer much improvement.

This morning as I got out of the car at the school and got Aleita out, I squatted in the parking lot beside her before we entered. Face to face with her, I talked to her for a minute about the need for her to behave, and how hard it was for me to pick her up in the afternoon, only to find that she had had a bad day. I told her that I knew she didn't want to be punished when she got home, and that I also knew how much happier she was when we were all happy with her. I told her that I loved her very much and wanted her to show everyone at school what a wonderful girl she is. After a few minutes, my heart-to-heart with her complete, I gave her a hug. "Be my good girl today, Aleita," I said.

She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said, "Mommy. Do you smell that? Something smells like ham."

So much for rationalizing with a four year old. I sighed and shook my head and silently said a prayer that she wouldn't burn the school down today.

In the end, she actually had a pretty good day. I don't think my pep talk this morning had anything to do with it though. Last night at supper, Chris reminded her that there were two pieces of Grandma Helen's chocolate cake left in the fridge, but that she could only have one if she behaved at school (she had been denied cake on Tuesday and Wednesday - - even worse was watching her sister eat a piece each night.) When I called around lunch time today to find out how her day was going, her teacher told me that she had been good, and I talked with Aleita a little bit and told her I was proud of her. The first thing she said to me was, "I'm going to be good all day and get Grandma's cake tonight!"

And she did. She enjoyed her dessert immensely (but what's not to enjoy? my mom makes THE BEST chocolate Texas sheet cake.)

Hey - whatever works.

ACHOO!

2009-01-20T09:29:00.003-06:00

Last night, just as we were getting ready to eat supper, Aleita let out a string of sneezes, looked at us in surprise, and then began to laugh out loud.

I looked at her curiously and then said, "what's so funny?"

Still laughing, she answered, "I just sneezed so hard that I made a little pee come out!"

When it comes to a 4-year old, if you are going to ask the quesiton, make sure you that you really want to know the answer.

PHOTO TAG

2009-01-14T08:55:00.006-06:00

Jacquelyn, a fellow blogger and good friend of my sister-in-law, Julianne (also a fellow blogger), has "tagged me." The instructions of the tag game were to go the fourth folder in my pictures file on the computer and post the fourth photo. I had to smile when I saw this picture....hard to believe she was ever this little. This picture is Maggie, when she was just a few days old and weighing in at about 6 pounds, along with our good ol' Boxer dog, Dempsey. At the time, Dempsey was a young dog of two years old. His brown coat is very light now, and his black mask has been replaced by white.

For a comparison, I am including another photo that was taken Christmas 2007 of Maggie, Dempsey, and myself. How things change!

The other part of my instruction from Jacquelyn is that I am now supposed to tag a few others - - since Julianne has already been tagged, I can't include her - - but I WILL tag Kristin and Karen.

DOOFUS

2009-01-13T20:12:00.005-06:00

On Saturday, Chris and I went into the Club to work out for a little while, and Maggie and Aleita went to the kids' room for the cheapest child care around ($1 per kid while you work out.....though I am thinking - how would they know if I left for a few hours and snuck out to get groceries instead?) Anyway - that afternoon after we got home, Aleita was discussing her morning experience in the kids' room. She mentioned, "I played with Max, Jacob, and Doofus."

I looked at her in surprise and said, "what did you just say?"

She repeated, "I played with Max, Jacob, and Doofus."

I then did the parent-talk that goes into one ear and out the other and reminded her that it isn't nice to call other people names, and how did she feel when other people called her names....blah...blah...blah....

She looked at me with a shocked look on her face and said, "I DIDN'T call anyone a name!"

"Aleita!" I said, "You just called some little boy a doofus!"

She looked at me indignantly and said, "That's his name!"

"Aleita," I said, "there was no one there named 'Doofus'.....Why did you call him that?"

She defensively answered, "His name was so Doofus! I heard his brother call him that so I knew that was his name."

Apparently she thus preceded to call him by his sibling-appointed name of 'Doofus' for the entire time she was there.

HAVE A LAUGH AT GEORGE'S EXPENSE.....YOU WON'T BE THE FIRST!

2009-01-12T19:47:00.004-06:00

Sorry for my lack of colorful commentary lately. Since we have resumed from Christmas break, I am snowed under and simply don't have the time to entertain the masses with the latest installment of what is happening way down yonder in the patch.

I provide instead a pitiful substitute, but one that I do hope will at least stir up some laughs. As the world prepares to bid adieu to the man who is perhaps the least popular President of the free world ever, I thought it only fitting that we should recognize some of those "human" moments that just really brings it home for you what a good ol' boy George W. really is. Enjoy.

Letterman's Top 10 George Bush moments
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rToKEnySb7s

JESUS IS MY FRIEND

2009-01-10T13:08:00.003-06:00

A shout out to Jacqueline for bringing this You Tube stunner to my attention. I felt it necessary to share. I'm hoping we can get the music so we can sing it for OUR church choir.

I've never considered Jesus to be like a mounty.....make sure to listen closely for the comparison.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-NOZU2iPA8

IDLE THREAT

2009-01-08T20:34:00.006-06:00

"Look, Mom! Apparently all that

'be good or Santa won't come'

business is just a bunch of crap!"

MAMA DON'T 'LOW. . .

2009-01-05T18:32:00.005-06:00

Tonight as I was making dinner in the kitchen, I could hear a repetitive tapping on the dining room wall. I knew Aleita was in there (as she had been placed on a chair in time out), so even though I couldn't see her, I said, "Aleita - whatever it is you're doing, cut it out."

There was a pause and then she responded, "I'm just breathing."

I came around the corner from the kitchen with my "mom face" on, prepared to give her what-for, only to find that the noise was actually Dandy playing with a tennis ball, batting it against the wall.

She looked up at me from her chair and said, "I told you I was just breathing."

DON'T GET TOO ATTACHED. . .

2009-01-01T21:34:00.011-06:00

How often does it happen that just about the time you find something you really like, it becomes discontinued? I have had that happen to me with lipstick, breakfast cereal, and soup - -and that is just within the past six months. I also mentioned a few weeks ago that I couldn't find my favorite "Bells & Stars" Archway cookies this holiday season and was not very happy about it - - come to find out, the company filed for bankruptcy in October. I guess the sugary goodness of Bells & Stars will have to live only in my memory. Much to my dismay, I can now add my favorite scent from Bath & Body Works to that list of things that are a-goin' down in flames. The stores and online shop are selling the remaining inventory of Brown Sugar & Fig, but are not going to manufacture anymore once that stock is gone. Of course. I find something that I really like and soon it will be no more.

That is not to say that I will no longer be shopping at Bath and Body Works. I wonder if that store laces all their items with crack - - I will go in, just intending to buy one thing of hand lotion or perhaps some soap or hand sanitizer, and come out $50 poorer. They will inevitably have some sort of deal going on, and the salesgirl feels obliged to let me know how crazy-stupid I am being not to take advantage of it. I will set my two bottles of lotion on the counter and she will glance at it and say, "You know, if you buy just one more of those, you get a free pony." OK - maybe that's not exactly true, but what it usually amounts to is me spending $25 more than I intended to and walking out with a sack so full of body sprays and lotions that the strap has dug a spot into my hand before I've gotten ten steps past the entrance to the store. I do have a very impressive collection of Bath & Body Works items stored in my bathroom at home - - but also happen to have two little girls who have picked up on how important it is to "smell pretty," and insist on smellin' good before they leave for school each morning. We have done our share of economy-strengthening through our purchases at Bath & Body Works indeed.

I have to say though, that no matter how much I purchase, I can't stand the salesgirl who is the designated "basket pusher." The basket pusher is the lady who pursues you around the store and insists that you take a shopping basket for your wares. You can be holding a single bottle of lotion or sometimes absolutely nothing at all, and she is shoving a basket in your hands and smiling and saying, "take this - - take this! It will make your shopping so much EASIER!" What that translates to is that if I make it easier for you to load up on all this crap, my commission will be bigger when you go to leave, sucker.

Maybe Bath & Body Works will have scores of letter writers and phone callers letting them know how upset they are to have had Brown Sugar & Fig removed from their line and that they INSIST it be reinstated. Hmm...probably not - but it is a nice thought.

Goodbye, Brown Sugar & Fig - - I'll miss you!!

(perhaps if they had had a more attractive label for the product, it would have sold better?)

Where you WON'T find me shopping at the mall . . .

2008-12-29T21:02:00.009-06:00

Chris and the kids and I hit the mall tonight to make our Christmas returns. We actually didn't have that much to do, so it went fairly quickly. We had parked down on the end by J. C. Penney - - I don't often get past the bookstore at that end of the mall, so it is always a surprise to me when I pass the Native American store and see that it is still in business. I am always completely amazed that it stays open. It is a rather large store, encompassing two regular size rental spaces. In addition, that end of the mall has the least amount of foot traffic, I have yet to see anyone else in there other the person working, and besides that, the stuff that they sell is completely hideous. (OK - admittedly, I am not a big fan of the "Southwest" decorating scheme, but this stuff is hardly the stuff of actual artists. It is more "Southwest kitch" rather than "Southwest art.") This store is full of poorly crafted paintings of howling wolves and tired cowboys, cheap feathered things glued together to make "dreamcatchers," low quality pottery and scratchy wool blankets -- more than likely all made in a sweatshop in Mexico or China, rather than the southwest United States.

Obviously someone is shopping there because it has been in business for a few years now -- though I have no idea how. A money laundering operation perhaps? That is truly the only plausible explanation that I can come up with as to why that place has managed to stay afloat. Seriously - - how can they manage to pay rent AND their employees AND purchase merchandise and still turn a profit? Who is shopping there???

SANTA'S LAST HURRAH?

2008-12-24T20:54:00.008-06:00

This holiday season has been a particularly fun one. Aleita, at age four, has reached the age where she really understands the true meaning of Christmas is biblical, and not just about Santa and presents. That is not to say that she is willing to forgo the presents, mind you - - not by a long shot. At age four, she has also firmly embraced the idea of Santa Claus. She and Maggie also both really love Christmas carols, and most anything associated with holiday cheer in general.

This year is also a little bittersweet because I think it is probably the last year that Maggie is going to hang onto the idea of Santa Claus. She is eight years old, and she has relayed to us that kids at school have told her that he isn't real. Her logical response to the naysayers has always been that there is no way that her mom and dad could buy all the stuff that Santa leaves for them. Despite this confidence in Santa's deep pockets, I can see that she is starting to have some lingering doubts about the whole thing through questions she asks and looks she gives.

Her conviction to Santa is far stronger than her doubts this year - - as we were heading home from my parents' house tonight, she and Aleita were about ready to burst with excitement because they wanted to get home and get to bed so Santa could come. Maggie even commented that her stomach hurt a little bit because she was so excited about the thought of Santa coming. It is almost hard to remember what it was like to be that age - - do you recall hardly being able to go to sleep because you were so incredibly excited? Remember waking your parents up at 5AM to go see what Santa had left? I love that both of my kids have that bit of magic in their lives. However, I imagine that 2008 will mark the end of Maggie's belief in the big guy in the red suit with the flying reindeer.

It is at times like this when I realize just how fast she is growing up. You never notice the changes in your own kids day to day because you are there with them all the time. But, there are certain moments in their lives though when you look at them, and it's like, whoaa....how did we get here? When did you get so big? How did this happen? It seems like yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital on a bitterly cold November night...and yet, here we are, eight quick years later, almost ready to give up on Santa.

I'm so proud of the beautiful young lady that she is becoming, yet want to her to be my little girl just a little while longer. I love that she is becoming more responsible and able to do so many more things without my help, yet I dread the day when she will no longer need my help at all. I have heard people say that the older you get, the faster time seems to go. I am finding more and more just how true that is.

From Christmas past:

Maggie (age 3) & Dempsey (age 5) - taken in 2003

Maggie (age 4) & Aleita (9 months) - taken in 2004

BARBIE HAS GONE TO THE BIRDS!

2008-12-21T20:37:00.008-06:00

A few weeks ago, I was browsing in the Barbie aisle at Wal-Mart, looking for Christmas ideas for Maggie. I guess I shouldn't be surprised for what Mattel comes up with for Barbie to do these days - - but I have to admit, that even I was a little taken aback. More about that in a minute . . .for those of you who are out of the "Barbie loop," you may not realize that Barbie has been quite busy since her creation in the 1950s. Originally, Barbie was conceived as a fashion model, but it didn't take long for her to start getting jobs - - as a babysitter, nurse, and teacher. It took her until the mid-1970s to shatter the glass ceiling, when she finally became a doctor.

After a few decades though, Mattel began to recognize that they had better keep up with the times if they wanted to milk the Barbie cash cow for all she was worth. Those smart toy makers have transformed Barbie dolls into various Disney princesses, DC Comic Superheroes, Spice Girls, and more recently, assorted members of the cast of High School Musical. Barbie has also had a variety of careers, ranging widely from astronaut to paleontologist to veterinarian to McDonald's employee to US President -- heck, she has even been a Nascar driver! When it comes to careers, you name it, and Barbie has probably done it.

Yes - apparently Barbie even does Nascar. . .

Getting back to my surprise in the Wal-Mart toy aisle - - I was browsing through the different types of Barbies when I came across one that really didn't scream "Christmas cheer" to me. It actually just kind of screamed. I stopped dead in my tracks to take a look - - among the lovely pink Barbie packages, was one that was somewhat startling to behold. Whoever thought that Alfred Hitchcock and Barbie would be used together in the same sentence?

Thank goodness! Just in time for the holidays! Exactly what every little girl wants for Christmas . . . . Barbie as Tippi Hedren in Alfred Hitchcock's THE BIRDS!

Yes, nothing says "Christmas cheer" like Barbie having her eyes gouged out by crows. Ha, ha Barbie - - even Ken can't save you now! You shouldn't have bitched so much about being a Nascar driver - - nobody likes a whiner! Merry Christmas - love, Mattel!

(Needless to say, that won't be waiting under the Christmas tree for Maggie this year.)

ONE MAN'S HELL ON EARTH

2008-12-17T14:56:00.003-06:00

Is it just my husband, or do all men hate IKEA?

A few weeks ago, I was up Chicago-way, and decided to stop in a browse for a bit at the Bolingbrook IKEA (I know that Schaumburg is bigger, but I was closer to Bolingbrook.) I think that most of the furniture from IKEA is kind of janky, but I do like looking at all their assorted what-not – I believe they refer to it as the “Marketplace.” Regardless, for some reason, shlepping through bargain priced aprons, lamps, picture frames, tables cloths, glasses, spatulas, and other assorted home paraphernalia apparently brings me some odd sort of happiness. I also like looking at their slightly-freaky Swedish cartoony kids’ toys for some reason. It is easy for me to while away a few hours just complacently meandering through a whole bunch of stuff that I never knew I wanted but now somehow feel the compulsion to purchase.

My husband refers to IKEA as “IKEA-Hell.” If given the choice between just about anything else and IKEA, he would choose the anything else. He simply can not understand how I can spend two hours slowly browsing around a large two-story warehouse, and then simply purchase a set of hand towels and rug and call it good. After about fifteen minutes in the place, his patience is exhausted.

His solution to this problem is now to simply refuse to visit IKEA with me. If we are together and I insist on going, he will drop me off, and then set a time to pick me up later. I think he usually hits a nearby bookstore while I shop, but who knows – he may be somewhere walking on hot coals or swallowing glass – both of which I am sure he would prefer to leisurely following me through IKEA. This method of IKEA visits works out better for the both of us.

As I said though, I was there a few weeks ago and saw the couple that Chris and I used to be in IKEA. A young woman was in the section of glassware where I was, meticulously looking through various wineglasses. The young man with her looked tired and pissed off. He finally said to her, “Amy – FOR THE LOVE OF GOD – Can we go already?!!?” She looked around, somewhat embarrassed, and then said to me, “I’ll bet your husband doesn’t act like this, does he?”

I smiled at her slightly, but honestly replied, “You’re doing better than me actually – my husband won’t come with me to IKEA anymore.” Her husband smirked at her while she gave me that tight-lipped grin that basically said, “thanks a whole helluva lot.”

Upon my return home, I relayed this story to my husband who found deep satisfaction in knowing that he isn’t the only man who loathes a visit to IKEA.

CHRIS'S HELL ON EARTH

YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE IT UNTIL IT HAPPENS TO YOU. . .

2008-12-16T10:20:00.009-06:00

Something happened to me yesterday that I had heard about before, but it was one of those things that I thought only happened to other people. I guess I thought I was one of the lucky ones - - that I was simply untouchable. Alas, I was wrong - - so very wrong.

I heard those words yesterday that I thought I would never have to hear - - “I’m sorry – there’s nothing more we can do.”

And just like that – it was gone. In fact, they were all gone. All my phone numbers, that is. On Sunday, as I went to shut my phone off before church (lest I become a Sunday morning ringer,) my phone pitifully gave me the message, “NO SIM CARD.”

The phone had just been working the night before, so I couldn’t imagine what the trouble could be. I turned it off and back on (also known as the “magic fix.”) In this case, it wasn’t. I took the battery off and removed the sim card, then put it all back together and turned the phone on once more. Still, it stubbornly declared, “NO SIM CARD.”

After playing around with the battery and sim card a few more times, I simply threw it in my purse and waited until I could get to the phone place on Monday. I was hoping there was something wrong with the phone itself. I had that nagging suspicion in the back of my mind that the sim card had shot craps, but didn’t want to say it out loud, much less think it, lest it become all too real.

As the young salesclerk took a moment to examine my phone, within a few minutes he heartlessly announced, “I think your sim card is bad – that’s easy to fix - -we’ll just replace it for you!”

“Try it again!” I begged, "I can't lose all my contacts!." He looked at me and sighed. “Don’t be mad if this doesn’t work,” he said. He tried it in a different phone, and indeed, it also did not recognize the sim card. I hung my head and sighed and finally allowed myself to admit that the sim card was dead.

Sensing my downtrodden demeanor, the salesguy nicely told me that normally a new sim card costs $20, but he would give it to me for free. I told him “thank you,” but any fool could tell that my heart wasn’t in it. He was trying to help me out, but all I could think of was myself - - -all my phone numbers - - gone.

I do have some of the phone numbers that were in my phone written down somewhere – but there is a good percentage that I don’t. I will be spending time over the next week working to restore my lost contacts.

Let this be a lesson to you – write those numbers down, my friend. You may think it will never happen to you, but I am living proof that cell phone tragedy can strike at any time.

Oh yeah - - and send me your phone numbers. I’ve got lots of work to do.

CAUTION!! BEWARE!! DIES UNEXPECTEDLY!

IT'S A HARD JOB, BUT SOMEBODY HAS TO DO IT

2008-12-08T22:15:00.005-06:00

My job requires that I travel from time to time. Some people really hate to travel - - I don't mind it so much. I am never usually gone for more than two or three days at a stretch, and even then, it is only every few months. Some people will actually ask me, "who takes care of the kids while you're gone?" as if a father is completely incapable of running the household in my absence. Contrary to popular belief from 1956, Chris is more than able to carry on with life when I am gone for a few days (he does, however, insist that the kids' hair be braided before I leave so that all he has to do is oil it in the morning. I came home once after Aleita had swimming lessons and he actually did have to wash it. He had sent that child to school with a big ol' head full of some nappy hair....practically a Don King afro....she was not happy.) At any rate, other than hair-doin', is a very good dad and more than capable of feeding, bathing, clothing, homework-helping, and general kid-takin'-care-of when I am gone. I never worry about them because I know I am leaving them in very capable hands. Plus - it gives the girls a little bonding time with dear old dad.

Sure, I miss them - and Chris too - - when I travel. Do you feel a big BUT coming on? Look out . . here it comes!!! BUT, I don't always mind being gone, as long as if it isn't for too long. SHHHH!!! Don't tell anyone!!! Good mothers and wives aren't supposed to enjoy being apart from their beloved ones. Damn. There goes my mother-of-the-year award.

Actually, this isn't a big surprise to Chris. He knows that while I don't always enjoy being gone, every once in a while, it isn't exactly torture either. I am actually writing this blog from St. Charles, IL, where I have been staying at Pheasant Run Resort since Sunday evening. I have been doing my conference duty during the day - today I took a class to renew my principal's certificate for the year. However, of an evening, I have gone Christmas shopping and taken in a movie. I slept later than I normally get to during the week, got myself ready without having to dress anyone else or make anyone breakfast, and ate dinner in peaceful silence while reading my book. I helped no one with second grade math homework tonight, and I did not have to enforce punishment on a four year old who was a hellion again today at preschool (I hear there is another rock from Santa in her near future. . . but that is a story for another day. . . . )

Do I miss them? Of course! Am I enjoying a little time to myself? Uh...yeah. But - tomorrow after my sessions at the conference, I will head home. . .And I am very much looking forward to hugs and kisses all around from my loved ones. They will be glad to have me back home, and I will be glad to be there.

Traveling for work . . . .part of my job. . . have to do it. . . but not always a bad thing.

HE KNOWS WHEN YOU'VE BEEN BAD OR GOOD. . .

2008-12-05T18:12:00.010-06:00

This week, Aleita has chosen to be the hellion of rebellion at her school. Though for the most part, her behavior and attitude has greatly improved in the past few months, there are some days (or weeks, as is the case here) that she opts to push the boundaries with her teachers at her preschool, just to see how far she can go. She has had phone calls from both Chris and me that have brought her to tears at school, but yet she still can't seem to pull it together and act right for very long. We always follow through with punishment at home as well to let her know that we aren't happy with her actions. This week, she has spent every night in her room alone after school, been spanked, lost her toys and her favorite blanket and pajamas, and even had to dine on different food than we did a few nights (On Wednesday, Chris and Maggie had smoked sausage and tater tots - something she loves. She had a PB & J. A different night, Maggie and I had garlic bread with our tortellini, but she was not allowed any garlic bread -- one of her favorite foods. She was quite upset.) Apparently, all these deterrents to her bad behavior were in vain, as she even made a half-hearted escape attempt on Thursday afternoon. After a call from the school, I picked her up at 2PM and after a spank, I took her back to my office, where she promptly fell asleep on the floor under my desk.

However, nothing really seemed to drive home the point that she needed to reform her behavior until this morning. We apparently finally figured out something that will get her attention - - or actually, Santa Claus did. You see, we have an advent house that counts down the days until Christmas. Each day has a small box, and the kids are oh-so-excited to get up each morning and see what one of Santa's elves has left for them in that day's box. We had warned her that this may happen if she didn't change her ways, but she chose not to heed our warnings.

You see, this morning, Santa had his elves leave Aleita a rock in the advent house, while her sister got a package of fruit snacks. You can imagine how well that went over. Aleita stood in stunned disbelief for a moment when she opened the house. (Today was her turn to open the door.) She tried to give the rock to Maggie, who shook her head and said plainly, "that ain't mine - I've been good!" Aleita looked at Maggie hopefully and said, "we can split the fruit snacks, right?" I then informed Aleita that Santa must have seen how bad she was being this week and meant for her to have a rock. (Aleita has told us on many occasions that if you are bad, all you get from Santa is rocks and dirt.) After letting it sink in for a moment, she promptly burst into tears and ran to her room to throw away the rock.

Miraculously, her days was much improved. Now granted, I only worked a half day today and picked her up about 12:30PM, but her teachers said that her behavior was unbelievable good during the time she was there. They said she shared with them the story of the rock in the advent house, as well as the fact that she has been denied partaking of some of her favorites during mealtime, and that we had taken her blanket. (I explained that I took her favorite blanket and wasn't actually denying the child covers at night.)

Aleita is jazzed tonight about the fact that she had a good day and thinks that she has redeemed herself enough to Santa to earn something better in the house tomorrow than a rock or some dirt. I am betting she is right on this one.

We'll see what next week brings though. . . .

Just remember, Santa IS watching.

THE CONEHEAD

2008-12-04T15:03:00.006-06:00

Both of our dogs love to ride in the car and to go new places. For the most part, they are even happy to go to the vet because even though they are usually there to get shots, at least they are getting to “go” somewhere - - and while they are there, they get to see new people, smell new smells, ride up and down on the scale, and get a treat from the vet when they are done. Perhaps more importantly though, in general, dogs just have an incredibly generous amount of blind trust that sometimes falsely assures them that you will never do anything that will make them unhappy – at least for too long.

It may take awhile for Dandy’s blind trust to rebuild. When I dropped Dandy off at the vet on Tuesday, he was happy, happy, happy. Little did he know that later that morning, he would undergo a surgery to ensure that there would be no “little Dandies” running around in the future. Yep – Dandy got neutered.

When I picked him up on Wednesday after work, he was happy to see me, to be sure. I am not sure whether he was genuinely happy just to see me, or if thought I would be the one to take pity on him and de-cone him. Like a lot of dogs, Lil’ Dandy decided to try to lick repeatedly at his incision sight, so they had to slap the Elizabethan collar on him. His greeting to me was more like, “Oh Mom! I’m so happy to see you! I missed ya, you bet! NOW GET THIS DAMN THING OFF ME!”

Poor, pitiful little boy. He made an awful racket in the hatch of the SUV as we made our way home. I refused to make eye contact with any of the people beside us in traffic because I know they had to be laughing at his pathetic self as he pressed his nose against the glass, seeming to furtively be begging someone . . .anyone. . .to throw open the hatch as soon as the car slowed down and free him from his coned imprisonment. He ran desperately from side to side of the car looking for anyone who might offer him assistance.

When we got home, I let Dempsey out the main door to go to the bathroom, but Chris let Dandy out through the garage since we were coming from there anyway. Dandy raced around the side of the house just about the time Dempsey was finding the right spot to relieve himself. Dandy, obviously a bit stir-crazy from having been at the vet for two days, went racing around the yard like his ass was on fire. At a glance, Dempsey didn’t recognize the crazed little fur-ball with the big plastic cone around his neck that was running around the yard at 110 mph and his fur went up and he began to growl at him. As soon as he saw Dempsey, Dandy tackled him and in his excitement, proceeded to repeatedly beat him about the head and body with his large plastic collar while Dempsey peed on a rose bush.

Once Dandy got inside the house, he found that the children were not to be his liberators either. In fact, they both laughed at him as well, eliciting no sympathy for him whatsoever. Actually, Aleita took one look at him and asked why he still had long hair and why he was wearing a lamp shade. It took a bit of inquiry to figure out that she had overheard me mentioning that I was going to get Dandy “snipped” and she thought I meant he was getting a hair cut at the groomer. The “lamp shade” further added to her confusion. He is supposed to wear the cone for the next week, but hopefully we will be able to take it off sooner.

Because I am a little sadistic, I took some pictures of him this morning. As you can imagine, he was not thrilled. If you think it is hard to get a 6 month old puppy to sit still for a picture, you should try doing it with one wearing a large plastic cone. Anyway, here is my pathetic little puppy:

Dandy, eating his breakfast (look! he has his own built in sneeze shield, like at a salad bar!)

Sad, sad, doggy

THINGS NO ONE EVER TOLD ME ABOUT GETTING OLDER #384

2008-12-02T17:06:00.004-06:00

Kellogg's currently makes a lower sugar version of Fruit Loops. I'm ready for the high-fiber version. I'm sick of Raisin Bran. Sometimes I miss the ignorance of youth and long for the days when I chose my cereal based on taste and not fiber content. Sigh. . .

JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD. . .

2008-12-01T10:10:00.010-06:00

We spent the afternoon yesterday putting up the Christmas tree and other holiday decorations in the house. However, I usually keep my outside Christmas decorations to a minimum. This year, I have a string of colored snowflake lights strung across the screened-in porch, and on the front of the house, between the two upstairs windows, is a large wreath. Fifteen minutes - - outside decorating done.

I know that there are some people that go to a whole lot more trouble to make sure that everyone knows that they are in the Christmas spirit. I do indeed admire those folks that literally spend hours putting together a tastefully decorated lights display for the outside of their home. Notice I mentioned the words “tastefully decorated.” I understand that though not everyone holds the same idea of what constitutes beautiful, it seems that when it comes to Christmas light decorating, there is simply no standard in place. To each his own, blah, blah, blah - - I get it. But since this IS my blog, I guess I can talk about my own standard of beauty, right?

I think that some people simply lack the sense that tells them when they have reached a good stopping place. At what point is one more light string just one too many? When does your home cease to become an attractive outdoor display of holiday cheer and instead become something that could be mistaken for a small town’s airport landing strip? When does someone decide that simply outlining the roof is no longer good enough, and instead, it is necessary to make stripes of lights on the roof? Do people who completely overdo it with lights and wooden lawn stuff and blow up Santas and such really think it looks good, or are they trying to be funny? At what point do the decorations cease to be attractive and become something that conjures up an image of Clark Griswold?

The thoughts that follow are not law - -they are just my thoughts. If you want to create a winter wonderland disaster in your yard, you go right ahead. Just don’t be mad when I drive by and laugh at it.

My thoughts on Christmas light displays:

1) Pick a color scheme and stick to it. If you want to use multi-colored lights or white lights or red lights or blue lights- - feel free. But don’t mix them.

2) Buy strings of lights and use them. Those blanket lights look terrible. Period.

3) Those light-up deer only look good if you are viewing them from a distance. If you have it placed fifteen feet from the road, it looks like a hunk of twisted metal with lights on it.

4) Having a nativity scene three feet away from an upside down Santa stuck in a chimney with his underwear showing is a little disturbing and causes me to question your sanity a little bit.

5) If you can only reach half-way up the tree to string the lights, then don’t. Just stringing the tree trunks looks ok - - but don’t do the branches if you can only reach up 6 feet on a 9 foot tree.

6) Ditto for a pine tree. If the tree is 8 feet tall, don’t string the bottom five feet with lights and leave the rest.

7) If the Christmas inflatable thing that you bought for your yard takes up approximately ¼ of your lawn and you are not able to pay the phone bill this month because of the cost of it, please consider doing without.

8) A wooden cut out depiction of a reindeer peeing on your tree? How charming.

9) I’m really serious about those blanket lights. You’re not fooling anyone with those ugly things.

10) If your home can seen from space, or if you have to pay your electric bill in installments come January, maybe you should seriously reconsider the amount of lights you put out for Christmas.

OK – I think that’s the end of my list. Anyone else out there have any?

Just a few examples of some "over the top" Christmas decorating - - after all, nothing says, "Welcome Baby Jesus" like lights that rival the Vegas strip . . . .

HAS BEEN

2008-11-28T11:23:00.006-06:00

I saw in this morning's paper where Skid Row is going to performing at the Lincoln Theater in Decatur in January. I said something about it to Chris, and he commented, "Why? - - Do you want to go?" I responded that perhaps I would, if this was 1990.

Far be it from us here in Central Illinois to actually offer a concert of a group when they are popular . . . . no, we prefer to book them about 20 years after the fact, when they only have the one loser member of the actual group remaining. Perhaps in a few months, we can get Rick Springfield to come back to town. . .

Sorry Skid Row, you're about 20 years too late. . . .

and I couldn't even consider it with Sebastian in your midst!

SHE'LL HOOK YOU UP

2008-11-26T08:35:00.004-06:00

This morning, Aleita found part of her pirate dress up stuff in the car on the way to school. She was in the back seat, happily playing with it as we made our way to Decatur. Her favorite part of the dress up kit is not the eye patch or the pirate hat . . .no. . . for her, the best part is the hook. It has a small handle to hang onto, and is covered by fabric so when she holds it, it gives the appearance that she has a little black plastic hook for a hand. It is oh-so-awesome. Normally she doesn’t get to play with it for very long because she starts hooking things she shouldn’t, such as her sister.

Today though, since Maggie was not in the car, she was free to hook to her heart’s content. I had to laugh though, at the dialogue she had with herself about her activities. She actually made up a little tune to go along with her ramblings. It went something like this:

“I’m a hooker! I’m a hooker! I’m a great big hooker. I am the best hooker in Blue Mound. No one is as good a hooker as me!”

So there you have it. We all want our kids to strive to achieve great things. Mine is currently the best hooker in Blue Mound. Somehow I don’t think they make a bumper sticker for that one.

HAPPY TEARS

2008-11-23T14:40:00.008-06:00

This morning as we were getting ready for church, I heard Aleita asking Chris what "happy tears" were. I am not sure where she heard the phrase, but for some reason, it had intrigued her. When Chris explained to her that even though people usually cry when they're sad, that sometimes, people are so happy that they cry and those are "happy tears."

She then wandered into the bedroom where I was getting dressed and told me that she had never cried happy tears. "Have you ever cried happy tears?" she asked.

I smiled as I recalled happy tears that I have shed. I told her that she probably wouldn't cry happy tears until she was a little older. I told her that the day I married Daddy, I cried happy tears. I told her that the first time I held her and Maggie at the hospital, I cried happy tears. I told her that the day we adopted each of them, when the judge declared the adoption granted, I cried happy tears then as well. I also explained that sometimes I have laughed really, really hard and that made my cry happy tears too. (She then inquired if I cried "happy tears" on the day that we brought the dogs home as well. I assured her that though I was indeed happy at bringing the dogs home as little puppies, that it wasn't quite a tear-inducing moment for me.)

Thinking about this reminded me of an article I read several months ago about tears and crying. I looked it up online to refresh my memory after all the talk about happy tears with Aleita. The basic gist of it is that scientists found that "happy tears" and "sad tears" have two very different chemical compositions. They found that happy tears are pretty much just brine and water - saltwater, basically. But they found that sad or angry tears contained chemicals and enzymes that the happy tears did not. The scientists concluded that in addition to the hormonal or stress release that can be felt after a "good cry" when you're hurting, it is also beneficial because it assists the body in flushing toxins out of your system. Interesting, huh?

Apparently whoever told little boys that they shouldn't cry didn't know what they were talking about!

ONE OF THE DAYS THAT I CRIED "HAPPY TEARS" - -

the first time I held Aleita at the hospital when she was born

I'LL TAKE 'EGO CHECK' FOR $400, ALEX. . .

2008-11-18T07:49:00.004-06:00

Last night, I was in the kitchen working on dinner, but could hear the TV from the next room. The show Jeopardy! was on, and I thought I was really kicking ass and taking names, having been able to answer five of the last seven questions correctly. Before I could hear any more questions and further improve my ego, Aleita came in and asked if she could watch a show. As I went in the living room and grabbed the remote to put something on for her, I noticed that one of the contestents on Jeopardy! looked awfully young. I stood and watched for a moment, just so I could verify what I had started to suspect - - Yes, you guessed it . . .it's Teen Week on Jeopardy! Ego? Back in check. . .

MAGGIE MAE IS EIGHT TODAY!!!

2008-11-17T08:15:00.005-06:00

How time flies!

Maggie, Summer 2002 - age 18 months

Maggie, November 2008, age 8

BIRTHDAY TREATS

2008-11-13T20:56:00.006-06:00

Maggie's birthday is coming up next week on Monday. Kim, the woman who runs the after school program that Maggie attends at our church, asked Maggie what she would like for snack that day in honor of her birthday. Maggie had to think about it before she could get back to her. After careful consideration, Maggie decided on Cheetos and root beer floats. She was quite excited about her decision.
That night, we are having family over for a simple supper of chilli, veggies, cake and ice cream. After having had Cheetos and root beer floats only a few hours before, I am guessing Maggie will be enjoying her birthday with a side of indigestion.

CHRISTMAS, 1958

2008-11-11T17:30:00.010-06:00

'Tis the season to . . . receive a bunch of catalogs. I am sure that the postal employees everywhere lament the coming of the Christmas season. In addition to having to tote the cards and packages shipped, they are also bringing armloads of catalogs. Just by judging from the amount that we receive, I can only surmise that most American households are being bombarded by the retailers. One of the catalogs we received in today's mail was from Lillian Vernon. This catalog is the third we have received from that company in the last two weeks. As Maggie was working on her homework, I sat at the kitchen table with her and leafed through the catalog. Apparently the Lillian Vernon is still under the impression that it is 1958. Need proof?
Check out the following pictures, taken straight from their catalog:

The following are toys that are apparently acceptable for boys to play with. I guess in Lillian's world, boys can aspire to be:

DOCTORS

POLICEMEN

FISHERMEN

BASEBALL PLAYERS

HOCKEY PLAYERS

Meanwhile, for the girls in "Lillian's World," there are apparently far lower expectations. Girls can aspire to do the following:

COOK

DRESS UP IN LACE AND SEQUINS

WORK AT MCDONALD'S

CLEAN THE HOUSE

I kid you not, the caption by this picture states, "She'll feel like the queen of clean."

Thank you, Lillian Vernon, on behalf of the working women of America for working so dilligently to set up back about 50 years.

HERE IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN TARGET HAS 90% OFF ALL THEIR HALLOWEEN STUFF. . . .

2008-11-08T21:03:00.002-06:00

Chris says I am a bad dog mom and that I am torturing Dandy by doing this. Hmmm. . . perhaps he is right, but seeing him in that bumblebee outfit caused me my biggest laugh I have had so far today. I think it was worth the 50 cents I spent at Target.

LINE LEADER

2008-11-04T09:39:00.003-06:00

Last night at dinner, Aleita was talking about her favorite jobs to be assigned at her daycare. Each day, the kids take turns being helpers. They are given various “helper jobs,” such as calendar helper, table cleaner, weather helper, floor sweeper, etc. By far, the coveted job at daycare is being the line leader. Aleita explained that everyone wants to be the line leader and that it makes her really happy when she gets to have that job.

She then mentioned that when Nick is the line leader, he cries sometimes. I said, “Why does he cry?”

She rolled her eyes and said, “Because I pass him because he’s too slow. Then he cries.”

I said, “How does that make you feel when you’re the line leader and people pass you? Do you like it when that happens?”

She looked at me in confusion, then answered very seriously, “No one passes me when I’m the line leader.”

I can just picture my little Aleita body slamming the kids into the wall should one of them try to sneak past her while she is the line leader. No, I doubt very much that she gets passed.

FYI, OH WEARER OF THE BACKWARDS SUN VISOR. . .

2008-11-01T23:42:00.005-05:00

If you are one of those guys who likes to turn your sunvisor around backwards and wear it on the back of your head instead of the front, I have news for you. It serves no purpose. It doesn't make you look cool. Perhaps you think it is a really happenin' fashion statement, but it isn't.....turn it around, dude....we are all having a laugh at your expense.

Halloween 2008

2008-10-31T23:21:00.002-05:00

CHECK BUYING PSA

2008-10-30T09:27:00.004-05:00

When I know of a really good product or service, I feel compelled to share it with others. Fear not - - I am not getting paid by this company or receiving anything to endorse them - - I just found a way to perhaps save you some money. If you are like me, saving money is a very good thing.

I realized about a week ago that I had only 50 checks left before running out. I called the company I normally order checks from and found that the cost to order four more boxes of duplicate checks (the kind with the carbon paper behind each one) was going to be about $80. EIGHTY BUCKS! For checks!! They said they recently increased their prices, blah, blah, blah. I told the lady on the phone that I had no intention of paying $80 for checks and that I would find them somewhere else. She told me that no matter where I looked, they were all going to be about that price. Turns out she was right.

I even called my bank thinking that perhaps they could offer me a better price - - the guy I spoke with said that most people order from those check companies now because of the high prices of checks through the bank. Four boxes of duplicate checks from them were going to be about $100, and that was for the basic, no design blue checks. What to do? What to do? I knew I had to have them, so I felt over a barrel.

I decided to do a little google searching to see if I could find any company offering better check prices. I happened to stumble upon Vista Print. (http://www.vistaprint.com/). I knew they were a reputable company because I had my Christmas cards printed with them last year and thought they did a very good job. I decided to see what check prices were with them. I ended up getting four boxes of duplicate checks for $24. I even dug up a coupon code online and got free shipping. They said it would take three weeks because I used the free code, but they arrived in less than a week. They actually came in the mail yesterday and they are perfect. I will say that the only downside is that they didn’t have a bunch of different designs to choose from, but WHO CARES? I got my checks considerably cheaper, so I am ecstatic. So for those of you who need to order checks and don’t want to spend a fortune, you are now IN THE KNOW.

DEALING WITH DEATH

2008-10-29T07:41:00.011-05:00

The concept of death can be very difficult for young children to deal with. My grandmother died a few weeks ago, and every since, we have had an almost daily barrage of questions from Aleita concerning Grandma Dot's passing. It is understandable and expected that a four-year old would naturally have a lot of questions concerning death. I think that as adults, we sometimes forget how foreign and abstract the concept of death seems to children. At their age, they can’t imagine that they aren’t going to live forever.

We went through this process with Maggie a few years ago when Chris's grandmother died. Maggie was about the age that Aleita is now at the time. For weeks afterward, we dealt with frequent inquiries about what had happened to Grandma Lillian. Of course Aleita was only about a year and a half old at the time, so she has no memory of the event. Maggie did really well in dealing with Grandma Dot’s passing - - she is old enough to at least understand the concept of getting old and dying. Aleita on the other hand….maybe not so much.

I decided not to have the children attend my grandmother’s visitation at the funeral home because I felt the evening would be too long for them. I also wanted to be able to greet family and friends who came to pay their respects appropriately and not be completely distracted by two bored, restless kids running around and getting loud. Chris and I instead opted to just have them go with us to the funeral the following day. We had done our best to prepare the kids for what was going to happen. Maggie did fairly well - - I think it was a little surreal for her to see Grandma Dot lying there in the casket, but she seemed to take the whole thing in stride.

Aleita on the other hand, was completed flabbergasted to see Grandma Dot lying there in the front of the room for everyone to see. As soon as we got close enough to the casket that she could see her, she looked at me in complete shock and declared, “SHE’S STILL HERE!” We are church-goin’ folk, so Aleita has been schooled about the idea of dying and going to heaven since she was born. When we talked to her about Grandma Dot dying, we told her that she was in heaven. Aleita took one look at her lying there in the casket and decided that we were big liars. We took a few minutes to clarify that Grandma’s soul was indeed in heaven, but that her body stays here on earth.

As we drove to the cemetery from the funeral home, we tried our best to explain what was going to happen next. I apparently used a bad choice of words because I told her that we were going to put Grandma’s body underneath the ground. She said, “but I’m wearing a dress!” It took only a few more questions from her for me to realize that she thought that upon arrival at the cemetery, all the funeral-goers were going to hop out of their cars with shovels and set to work in putting Grandma six feet under. I quickly elucidated that there would be other people who would do the actual digging and be putting the casket in the ground - - we would just say some prayers and tell her goodbye one last time. I think she was slightly disappointed to learn that she wouldn’t actually have more involvement in a process that involved the digging of dirt.

So of course since Grandma's passing, we have had lots of questions concerning death and dying. At first, Aleita's primary concern seemed to be focused on whether or not she would be checking out anytime soon. We assured her that Grandma Dot was old and nothing would be happening to her until she was very, very old. It’s been a little difficult for her to accept that everyone dies eventually - - that it is a natural part of life. She is discontented enough right now with the whole idea of death that she has vowed to live forever. I told her that I hope that works out for her.

Aleita’s daycare teacher told us that last week, Aleita was sitting at her table working on her art project when one of the other kids started talking about going to his grandma’s house after school. She said Aleita looked up briefly from her coloring and declared, “My grandma died and her soul went to heaven, but her body is still here on earth. Somebody buried her under the ground.” Her teacher said that without another word or any fanfare, she went right back to her coloring. She said that the other kid who had been talking about going to grandma’s house just walked away, looking a little confused. Perhaps Aleita will enlighten him one of these days.

EXPERIENCE IS THE BEST TEACHER

2008-10-28T14:44:00.002-05:00

When I picked Maggie up from the after-school program yesterday, I asked her how her day was. She hesitated before answering and then replied, “not so good.” I sighed, wondering what trouble she had managed to find during her second grade day.

“What happened?” I queried. She told me that during art class, they had been working on a painting project and that she and her friend Emily were seated at the same table. She said that when the teacher was turned around helping someone else, Emily reached over to her and painted on her shirt. After a deep breath on my part, she quickly mentioned that Emily painted on her paint shirt that she was wearing to protect her clothing.

I said, “and then what happened?” to which she replied that she didn’t like Emily painting on her shirt, so she responded in kind by painting on her face. Unfortunately for Maggie, the art teacher had turned around at that point and witnessed her during her exceptional lapse of judgment. Maggie ended up having to serve a time out for her untimely face painting episode.

She wasn’t so much mad about having to serve the time out for the face painting as she was that the other girl, Emily, didn’t get in trouble at all. According to Maggie, Emily lied and said that face painting attack was completely unwarranted.

Hoping that she had at least gleaned something from the incident, I asked her, “Maggie – what did you learn from this? What do you need to do next time?” She thought for a moment and then replied, “I know I should have just told the teacher….but if I do paint someone else’s face, I should make sure she isn’t looking first.” Ah yes, experience truly IS the best teacher.

PERHAPS I'M DOING A BETTER JOB THAN I THOUGHT. . .

2008-10-27T11:32:00.010-05:00

Sometimes, as I sure every parent does, I question my ability to rear my children in the best possible way. Am I making the best choices for my kids? Am I too strict? Too lenient? Am I providing them with enough love and guidance to help them one day become productive and happy and well-adjusted adults? No matter how I feel about my parenting skills, there is nothing like a little weekend away with the kids to make me feel a whole lot more secure in my abilities.

When we were on our excursion to St. Louis, we visited The City Museum and the Science Center. We saw small children wandering around with no apparent parental figure in sight. We witnessed unruly kids of all ages being allowed to run wild while oblivious parents looked on - - - running crazy, climbing on exhibits not intended to be climbed on, screaming at the top of their lungs, and in general, just acting the fool.

I have noticed that parents of these type of children have either one of three reactions. Let's say that their child is climbing on a statue that's meant to be looked at - - perhaps it is even behind a roped off area - - When you look at their unruly banshee child and then look at them:

EITHER

1) They don't notice because they are sitting on a bench 100 ft. away talking on their cell phone and not even looking at their kid.

- OR -

2) They refuse to make eye contact and say in a tiny whiny voice to the child, “C’mon sweetie…climb down off the nice statue now. C’mon baby….please? Look – mommy has a cookie for you! Come get the cookie!” The child will scream as the parent pulls him down off the statue, grab the cookie from the parent, then resume his post right back where he was as soon as the parent lets go of him.

- OR -

3) They stare you down and give you that look that says, "what are you lookin' at, bitch?" then after some time, say to the kid, "Let's go." The child then runs to the next exhibit where the kid climbs up on the next thing he isn't supposed to be climbing on or pushes some other smaller child out of the way to get what he wants.

When we went and ate lunch at the Old Spaghetti Factory, I witnessed a scene that made me feel like parent of the year. Sitting directly across from us was a family of four. Three of the family members sat in the booths at the table, eating their lunch. The fourth member, a boy of probably 6 or 7 years, sat on the floor UNDER the table. The mother would occasionally make a whiny plea for him to come join them at the table, but he crawled around on the floor, occasionally stopping to chew on a piece of bread. She did finally get him out from under the table, but he refused to sit with them. He stood a few feet away, leaning against the wall instead. After a few minutes of that, he was back under the table.

Yes, I will admit that there are times as a parent when I have a little bit of work to do. . . but I can at least say that when I am out in public with my kids, you won't have to give me the ol' stink eye about their behavior. Feeling down on yourself as a parent? Go visit the mall or a McDonald's with a playland. Sometimes all it takes to make you feel better about your own parenting abilities is to simply witness others doing a markedly worse job than you.

THE CITY MUSEUM

2008-10-24T21:43:00.012-05:00

Maggie had the day off school today, so on Thursday afternoon, we headed down to St. Louis with the kids to spend a few days. Today, we spent the better part of the day at the City Museum. The girls had such a good time, and Chris and I really enjoyed ourselves as well. I had been before, but this was the first trip for the kids. It is a little pricey, at $48 for a family of four, but worth it. We literally spent almost the entire day there. We got there about 9:30am this morning, left there for lunch for about an hour and a half around noon, then came back and spent a few more hours there. If we would have let them, the kids would probably still be there playing (unbelievably, they are actually open until 1AM on Fridays and Saturdays.) The museum is an old shoe warehouse and factory that was converted in the late 90s to the most unbelievable indoor playground for kids. It is not exactly educational, but whoever said that every outing has to be?

The City Museum is heavy on activities for kids to use their large motor skills - - it is very difficult to describe in a manner that will do it justice. The museum has both indoor and outdoor facilities. There is a great deal of climbing and exploring involved. There are ropes to swing on and countless tunnels and mazes that are made to resemble caves and forests and the jurassic era - - everything is done so well though - - it isn't chintzy or cheaply made - - it is artistically designed and created so that it is as beautiful as it is functional. There are also slides everywhere. There is one slide near the main entrance that goes from the third floor down to the main floor. There is a two-story slide that is a conveyer roller like you would find on an assembly line. The most impressive one though, is the seven-story - - - yes, seven-story slide that tornadoes from the top of the building down. Of course, you must walk up seven flights of stairs to get to it, but the kids loved every minute of it. (plus, it helped walk off some of the calories from our lunch at The Old Spaghetti Factory.)

Taken directly from the City Museum's website: Housed in the 600,000 square-foot former International Shoe Company, the museum is an eclectic mixture of children's playground, funhouse, surrealistic pavilion, and architectural marvel made out of unique, found objects. The brainchild of internationally acclaimed artist Bob Cassilly, a classically trained sculptor and serial entrepreneur, the museum opened for visitors in 1997 to the riotous approval of young and old alike.

http://www.citymuseum.org/

Of course, I forgot my camera back at the hotel, so enjoy these lovely stock photos I dug up on Google images instead:

A MYRIAD OF PIECES

2008-10-23T10:21:00.006-05:00

I was looking at my Family Fun magazine this morning while I was eating breakfast. In this month’s issue is a special section called “Toys of the Year” awards - -which basically is showing you some hot toys to purchase for the upcoming Christmas season.

One of the toys featured is called the “Fabulous Fairyland Playset – The Fairy Garden.” In the write up, the reviewer highlights one of its features by saying, “Our testers found that putting together the myriad of pieces of was much fun as playing with the three fairies.” Sorry, but any toy that is described as having a “myriad of pieces” is probably not something that is going to be welcomed into the Hale household with open arms. I find that things that have a “myriad of pieces” end up being scattered from one end of my house to the other, and then parts are subsequently lost, rendering the toy useless. I have tried to keep the toys orgazined - - I have bought brightly colored toy storage and rubbermaid bins galore, as well as worked with the girls repeatedly in an effort to keep the toys in a somewhat semi-organized fashion. Alas, my best efforts to keep Barbies in one container, Little People in a separate container, Legos in another container, etc. are usually thwarted by two little girls who find that pieces and parts from all their toys can be mixed and matched for some new use with whatever they are playing with at the moment. Who am I to stifle their creativity?

And yet - The Fairy Garden will not be under the Christmas tree from Santa this Christmas.

THE ERRAND GIRLS

2008-10-20T14:13:00.002-05:00

Aleita and Maggie couldn’t be more different when it comes to running errands. Aleita is always quick to ask if she can accompany whoever is going into the store. Maggie, on the other hand, almost always automatically asks if she can stay in the car. If she is told that everyone will be going in the store, she usually rolls her eyes and sighs as though she were just told she had to have a root canal, rather than that we need to run into Kroger’s for ten minutes to get milk and bread.

No, Maggie is none-too-sad about staying behind on most errands that we run. She is happy to sit in the car while go in to pick up the mail at the post office or drop off books at the library. Maggie would rather remain in the car if she happens to be with us when we pick up Aleita at school. Maggie’s ultimate hell is Wal-Mart. It is her least favorite place on earth. I can’t say that I disagree with her – but it is a necessary evil. I simply can’t afford to buy laundry soap, paper towels, lotion and the like at the grocery store. She never hesitates to express her dissatisfaction at being made to accompany us to Wal-Mart. If I pull a list out of my purse with more than 20 items, she throws her head back in defeat and continually asks, “how much longer?” the entire time we are there.

Aleita, conversely, wants to be right where we are all the time. I think she is afraid she may miss something. When I get out of the car at the post office to get the mail on the way home, she always asks if she can go in, even though everyday I tell her “no.” (It takes longer to get her in and out of her seat that it does to actually go in and get the mail.) Errands with Aleita take quite a bit longer because she wants to converse with almost everyone she meets, whether she knows them or not.

One of the places Aleita especially likes to go is the bank because she has figured out that the bank gives out candy. We have told her repeatedly not to ASK for it, but to say ‘thank you’ if it is given. Most of the time, she can hardly contain herself. This past Friday, we went through the drive up at the bank in our little town of Blue Mound and before we got to the window, she said, “I want candy, but I’m not going to ask for it.”

Chris said to her, “We are on our way to eat lunch, so even if you get candy, you aren’t going to get to eat it right now.’ She bounced and squirmed in her seat while she waited for the transaction to be complete. The banks in Decatur sometimes give candy and sometimes do not, but the Blue Mound Bank almost always does - - plus the teller waiting on us that day was my cousin, Teresa. The anticipation of what kind of candy she would get was almost too much for her.

As Teresa slid the money back out the drive-through window and told us to have a good day, it became clear to Aleita that there was no candy as part of this transaction. As Chris pulled away from the bank, his window wasn’t half rolled up yet and Aleita yelled, “THAT’S OK THAT YOU FORGOT TO GIVE ME CANDY!!”

Well, at least she didn’t ask for it, right?

FARM GIRLS

2008-10-19T19:35:00.004-05:00

I promise I will get back to writing this week. Last week, my grandma passed away, so I haven't really had the time or the desire to sit down and write. I am hoping that this week proves to be more normal (whatever that is!) and restful. It was good to see my family last week, but I am welcoming being back in my routine this week.

I am posting some pictures of the kids I took this afternoon. We visited Grandma and Papa at the farm and they had a chance to ride in the combine and in the grain trucks.

GREAT PUMPKIN PATCH IN ARTHUR

2008-10-13T09:54:00.003-05:00

We visited the Great Pumpkin Patch in Arthur yesterday with the kids. Thought I would share some of the pictures.

LOVE THIS PICTURE!

2008-10-09T08:32:00.004-05:00

GOOD COMPANY

2008-10-08T07:11:00.002-05:00

This morning at breakfast, Aleita was having a hard time getting it in gear. Even though she was the first one to get her breakfast, Maggie and I were finishing up and she still wasn't half way through her oatmeal. As I put the dishes in the dishwasher and washed my hands, she asked, "Are you going upstairs?"

"Yes," I answered, "I have to get ready to go."

"Someone needs to stay down here with me," she pouted.

I assured her that I was certain she would be fine sitting at the table by herself while she finished her oatmeal. I started to walk out of the room and she lamented, "there will be no one here to keep me company except for my coughs!"

STANDING UP FOR THE LITTLE GUY

2008-10-07T14:57:00.004-05:00

Maggie came in the door from school yesterday wearing a long face. I sighed, wondering what “great news” she had to share with me. During the past few weeks, Maggie has not only had a difficult time remembering to turn in her homework, but also has been rushing through her work at school and skipping directions in the process, resulting in less than stellar grades being brought home. She has lost privileges, including T. V. and her Barbies, but we have yet to see any marked, lasting improvement. From the look on her face, I figured the week was off to another similar start.

“Did you remember to bring home your spelling words?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

“What grade did you get on today’s science test? (for which we have been studying for two weeks) I asked.

“A” she answered.

“Did you bring home papers with bad grades on them?” I questioned.

“Nope” she answered, still wearing her down-in-the-dumps expression.

“Then why do you look so sad?” I asked.

She reluctantly reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. She said, “I have a note for you. I got sent to the principal’s office today. But before you read it, can I tell you what happened?”

I sat down at the kitchen table and closed my eyes for a second, resting my forehead on my hand. Taking a deep breath, I told her to go ahead and explain.

It seems that as she was riding on the bus on the way to school, a boy from her class named Connor started grabbing kids’ papers and throwing them out the open bus window. She told me that he is always calling everybody names and doing mean stuff to people. She said one of her friends started crying because he threw her homework out the window, so Maggie told him to stop, but he didn’t listen. He then proceeded to call her “Miss Afro-puffs” and threw another paper out the window. Apparently at this point, the bus driver told her to sit down, but she had had enough. She got out of her seat and went across the aisle to his, grabbed HIS papers and threw some out of the bus window.

I then took a look at the form she had brought home from school. It pretty much reiterated everything she had told me, but also enlightened me to the fact that if she gets in trouble again on the bus, she will have a 1-day bus suspension. I told her to go up to her room for a little bit and that I would talk to Daddy about it and decide what was to be done. Chris was just getting home, and I explained the situation to him. After I was done, we both looked at each other and started laughing. It shouldn’t have been funny, except it was.

Isn’t this very thing what I try to teach my students in Sunday School each week? I tell them that when someone is being picked on, they have three choices: 1) join in 2) do nothing 3) stand up for someone else. How was I supposed to punish Maggie for doing exactly what I have been promoting?

In the end, we talked to Maggie and explained that we were not upset with her, but that there were better ways to get her point across than to do what she did. She promised to think before she acted next time - - I could tell that just being sent to the principal’s office was enough to shake her up that she didn’t want to visit there again. Her “big” punishment was no dessert that night.

Hey – I bet it’s more than Connor got.

LOOK OUT BELOW!

2008-10-06T09:36:00.006-05:00

Last night, our church had a wiener roast at the home of one of our members. We hadn’t been there 10 minutes when I heard Aleita screaming and crying. There are times when your child screams and cries and you know it is just because their sibling is teasing them or because they just got in trouble for doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. The screaming and crying coming from my child was neither of those. Her shrill shrieks were different somehow - - more guttural and urgent. It is one of those things that you can’t explain to someone who is not a parent - - but to those of us who have kids, we know the difference immediately. Her screams immediately alerted me that something was very wrong with her.

Aleita and the other kids had been playing out in the side yard, a little ways away from where most of the adults were gathered. Some of the kids were kicking a ball back and forth. Some were tossing a football around. Some were taking turns on the tire swings. Aleita and Maggie and a few others had been playing up in the treehouse. However, as Aleita went to come down the ladder, she lost her footing and fell about 12 feet from the top of the treehouse. As came hobbling up the driveway, along with Maggie helping her along, Chris and I rushed out to meet them. Her body was racked with heaving sobs and her face a mess of tears and snot. Chris picked her up and carried her back to the picnic tables where we could sit down and assess the damage.

I was completely assuming we were going to have to leave the wiener roast and take her to the E.R. to set a broken bone - - most likely a wrist where she had caught herself as she landed. However, after calming her down a bit and running her through a gamut of tests, such as having her wiggle fingers and bend her wrists and elbows and knees, we discovered that the damage actually was all surface level. After falling 12 feet from a treehouse, her collateral damage consisted of two scraped fingers, a tiny scrape on her wrist, and a few grazed places on her torso. I was catching my breath and saying a silent prayer to God that she was ok, and Aleita was more concerned as to whether or not she could have a band-aid for her owies. Her comment about the whole ordeal was, “I didn’t like that very much.” After washing her hands and applying a few bandages, she quickly returned to running and playing with the other kids (though we did request she stay OUT of the treehouse for the remainder of the evening.How is it that kids are so incredibly resilient? If it were me, I think I would still be lying underneath the treehouse, flat on my back, waiting for someone to come along and scrape me up. Aleita was simply thrilled to be going to school with Batman band-aids on her fingers, armed with a cool story to tell about falling out of a treehouse.

DEMPSEY AND DANDY

2008-10-05T12:13:00.003-05:00

Oh the difference three months can make! I am posting two pictures below - - - the first was take the day after we got Dandy in early July. The second picture was taken this morning. They get along really well, and Dandy is a pretty well-behaved little puppy (most of the time anyway!) He seems to be learning some really good habits from his "big brother."

Dandy & Dempsey, July 2008

Dempsey & Dandy, October 2008

GERMAPHOBE

2008-10-03T09:01:00.002-05:00

I am living proof that the mass media provides considerable influence over the way we live our lives. In this instance, I am talking about the fact that I have become a germaphobe.

In public restrooms, I craftily work to figure out how to open the door without actually having to touch the handle after I have washed my hands. I can’t actually bring myself to open the door with paper towel in hand, lest I look like a total and complete germaphobe-freak-weirdo to everyone as I leave the restroom. I like the doors that push out so that you can just bump your hip into them without actually having to lay your hands on the door to make it open. For those doors that push in, it is always a good thing when someone comes in the restroom and pushes open the door just as you are getting ready to leave, thus ensuring no hand contact will have to occur with your clean hands and the dirty restroom door. It also skeeves me out when people use the restroom and then don’t wash their hands. I have been known to give people the ol’ stink eye as they exit the toilet stall, then proceed to head right out of the restroom without a thought to washing their hands. BLAH! I can’t imagine going out and picking up my cheeseburger and fries after just having been in a public restroom without washing my hands.

I keep a bottle of hand sanitizer in my car. Anytime I have been shopping at Wal-Mart or Kroger or Cub’s or any other public establishment (especially when I have been pushing a shopping cart), I immediately come out to the car and use the hand sanitizer. My kids even know that as soon as we get back to the car, I am going to give them each a squirt of sanitizer - - I always try to get Aleita first - - she is the thumb sucker, and as soon as she gets into her booster seat in the car and gets comfortable, the thumb goes in the mouth. I just try to prevent a few thousand germs from doing the same.

I have heard experts say that because of all the anti-bacterial products and hand sanitizers we have now, we are actually doing ourselves a disservice because our bodies never get the chance to develop an immunity to certain germs and bacteria, so when we are exposed, we get very sick instead of our bodies being able to fight it. Even with this knowledge, I still continue with my germaphobe ways.

Any fellow germaphobes out there? Raise your hands! (Just please make sure they’re clean first!)

THE DEFECTOR

2008-09-29T11:29:00.004-05:00

I hope Aleita has a good day at preschool today. Last week, she tried to lead a revolt. She moved to a new room - - the “Penguins” room - - a few weeks ago. Prior to that, she had been in the “Bears” room for about a year. So far, the transition to a new environment had gone pretty well. She had had a few rocky moments, but overall, things were no better or worse than they had been for her in her previous classroom.

Apparently on Friday though, Aleita reached an impasse with one of her teachers in the Penguins room. With much fanfare, she announced that she was leaving and going back to the Bears room. She removed her plastic cubby that contains her extra clothes and sunscreen, grabbed her pillow and blanket from her cot, and removed her name from door of the classroom.

In an effort to completely overthrow the Penguin room, she attempted to organize a faction united around her cause. As she dragged her things down the hallway to her old room, she yelled, “Follow me boys!” to her friends in the Penguin room. The teachers reported that the other students were all too stunned and afraid of reprisal to participate in her uprising.

One of her teachers went down to the Bears classroom and explained the Aleita was defecting from the Penguin room. Aleita dumped her stuff right inside the door, hugged her previous teachers and announced, “I’m back!” I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for them to contain their excitement. Kudos to them, however - - they played along with her upheaval plans and invited her to join them for the art project they were just starting to work on. During the art lesson, they made several comments to Aleita that they were so glad she had come back, but they were surprised that a FOUR year old would want to be in the room with THREE year olds….but that was ok…..she must like THREE year olds and acting like the THREE year olds do. From what we were told, they laid it in pretty thick for her. About 20 minutes later as the art project neared completion, she announced that she was returning to the Penguins room after all and that had decided that she needed to be with the other four year olds after all.

Her teacher in the Penguins room welcomed her back, but did so conditionally. She explained to her that there would be no more renegade action on Aleita’s part, and if she chose to leave again, she would probably have to just stay with the three year olds from now on. Aleita promised her that she was back to stay and vowed to stray now more.

There is a special place in heaven for preschool teachers. God bless them for their patience and ingenuity and of course, for being willing to put up with my crazy child.

FYI

2008-09-24T10:21:00.002-05:00

Someone told me to get your Crocs clean, put them in the dishwasher and run them through a cycle. All four of us have Crocs and they were all in need of a cleaning, so I put them in and ran it. Bad idea. They shrank. If someone tells you that this is a good idea, tell them they are wrong.

A DISAPPEARING ACT

2008-09-22T13:50:00.008-05:00

At age four, my youngest child is already so mischievous that I am afraid what is going to happen as she gets older. Yesterday, I went into her room to get her clothes out for church. I selected an outfit from her closet amid her protests and laid it on her bed. It was a really cute pair of bib overalls and a little pink shirt, but she instantly registered her dissatisfaction with my choice as soon as I had pulled it from the closet. It was one of Maggie’s old outfits, and I remember Maggie looking so cute in it - - for some reason or another, Aleita has decided she hates it and never wants to wear it. I have only endured her grumbling and made her wear it one other time, and yesterday, I was determined to have her wear it at least once more before she outgrew it. I told her to go use the bathroom and that I was going to get myself dressed and that I would meet her back in her room in a minute to put her clothes on for church.

After getting dressed, I returned to her room to find her on the floor playing with her cars. “Did you go potty?” I asked.

“Yep,” she replied.

I turned to get her outfit off the bed and it was gone. I glanced over at her dresser which is where I sometimes set her clothes before getting her dressed and it wasn’t there either. I retraced my steps back into my own bedroom to see if for some reason I had carried it in there with me when I went to get myself dressed. The outfit was no where to be found.

I returned to Aleita’s bedroom and asked her if she had done something with it. She looked at me and then immediately looked down and just shrugged her shoulders. “Aleita,” I said, “where is your outfit for church?” She responded, “it’s not here.”

“Yes, I can see that,” I answered. “Do you happen to know where it might be?”

She begrudgingly set the car down she was playing with and pointed at the dresser. “Did you put it one of the drawers of dresser?” I asked. She shook her head no. “Then where?” I asked her.

“Back there.” she answered.

I got down on my hands and knees and looked under the dresser, and sure enough, the outfit was behind the dresser. “How did it get back there?” I questioned her.

“I think maybe I throwed it a little,” she admitted. Yes, she had indeed thrown the outfit behind the dresser in a feeble crack at not having to wear it. Her dresser is quite tall and at an angle in the corner of her room, so it required some effort for me to move the dresser and retrieve the outfit.

She was disappointed that her attempt to avoid my choice for her church clothing had been thwarted. She whined as I lotioned her up and dressed her in the aforementioned dreaded outfit. She had a pouty look on her face as I said, “step back and let me look at you.”

Now wouldn’t you know it - - - after all that, the outfit was too small. The pants were just a little too short and the belly just a little too tight. When I told her I would have to change her, she did a little dance around her bedroom saying, “woo hoo! Get it off! Get it off! Get it off!”

She ended up wearing another lovely little outfit to church that day - - a skirt along with a shirt that she sometimes grumbles about wearing, but today, she happily put it on if it meant not having to wear the original outfit selected.

MONEY IS NO OBJECT

2008-09-20T23:06:00.006-05:00

With Maggie being seven years old (almost eight), I know that our time is limited as to how much longer she is going to believe is such things as the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus. I have expected questions regarding the feasibility of such from her any day, but so far, she has shown nothing but unfaltering belief in a tiny winged creature that exchanges money for teeth, a large rabbit that hides plastic eggs full of candy, and a fat guy in a red suit that is pulled around by reindeer in a sleigh on Christmas Eve to bring presents. In almost any other regard, Maggie is pretty sharp and seems to be very perceptive about sensing subtle nuances about situations that others her age usually don't pick up on. I'm actually quite surprised that she hasn't shown even a shadow of doubt about these time-honored children's figures.

I had to hold back a laugh while we were shopping at Target today. The kids, of course, always ask to go look at the toys once we are done getting whatever it is we actually came for. As long as we're not pressed for time, I have no problem letting them longingly stroll through the toy aisle - - always the Barbie aisle for Maggie, and action figure aisle for Aleita. Today as we walked through the toys, Maggie and Aleita continually commented to each other about various toys that they wanted. They are both actually usually quite good about understanding that they are just LOOKING at the toys and that we will not actually be PURCHASING any that day. I have seen a few kids have melt downs in the toy aisle over the denial of that moment's heart's desire, so I am at least glad that my kids understand that throwing a fit will in no way further their cause of getting what they want. Anyway - they were both talking about which toys they planned on asking from Santa for Christmas. As we left the toy aisle, Aleita spied a large camping tent hanging from the ceiling above the sporting goods department. "I am going to ask Santa for that tent!" she declared.

Seeing the price tag of $299, I said to her, "that tent is pretty expensive, you know."

Maggie very nonchalantly replied, "That's ok, Mommy. Santa can buy anything he wants."

"Is that so?" I asked her.

She looked at me as though I had an IQ of 15. "Mommy, " she said, "how do you think I got my bike last year? It's not like you and Daddy could have bought it for me."

I shook my doltish head to show that I understood. Perhaps Santa will come through for her, but somehow, I am guessing not.