How's Your Nass?

Evan, my "much older than his four little years" son, makes declarations far beyond the topics of Bob the Builder and the Wiggles that my other two boys made at four years old. So, I shouldn't have been surprised two days ago when he asked me this question. . .

Mom, where's my nass?

Perplexed, I look at him and made him repeat the question. Nass? Hmm. . . I was stuck.

My first instinct was that he was referring to "nads." He had been in the basement with my two boys and my two nephews, four boys total who are between the ages of 7 and 9. The typical conversations of these boys involve the hilarious noises touted from their various parts as well as general conversations about anything in the midsection of their body. "Nads" seemed the logical guess. Yet, Evan immediately disagreed with my when I inquired about them.

So, I tried a different approach. Evan, where did you hear this word?

Evan proudly responds, Some guy on TV said he was kicking his nass.

This is the part where I began to boast my mother-of-the-year candidacy as I realized that Ev was talking about a word where dropping the N was the only necessity. You gotta love the TV and its stellar influence on our kids. I knew that this phrase was from a preview of the Jim Carrey movie Liar Liar that had been advertised on the cable we had been watching.

With nothing else to say, I merely looked at Ev and uttered Please don't say that again.

He shrugged. Ok mom. . .

Problem averted for now. I will be waiting for my trophy delivery.

All Good Things Must Come to an End. . .

. . . and they have!

Part One: Fantasy Football

A week ago Sunday, my Fantasy Football season came to a crashing end. Prior to the final game, my friend and I boasted the highest ranked team which netted the most points for the year. We were mildly obsessive-- ok, maybe more like psychotically, almost Basic Instinct obsessed-- about our players and our weekend decisions. We would consult each other numerous times during the week as well as consult other colleagues who we felt were qualified to assist us.

We checked stats on our players, stats on the opposing people's offenses and defense, weather reports for game day problems. And ultimately, we ended up in the finals. Our game day fate was determined early by a wavering Kurt Warner who had an amazing 30 yards passing the ENTIRE game in New England. We attempted a late rally with our beast Deangelo Williams, yet to no avail. We finished the season in second place.

Not bad for a couple of newbies with no experience! We can't wait for next year and are even considering scouting a stellar March Madness contest.

Part Two: The Browns -- My faith in them comes to an end.

Growing up in the Cleveland area, I have always maintained staunch support of the Browns. I reminisce about the days when Bernie Kosar was quarterback, and the only impediment to the Browns in the Super Bowl was the infamous Fumble by Byner.

Times have changed.

I was excited this year as the pundits boasted the Browns were Super Bowl candidates. I bravely donned my bright orange Browns shirt in the land where Green and Yellow are practically hallowed colors. And then it started. . . What started? The ultimate collapse.

First, the quarterback controversy. Anderson versus Quinn. This was quickly resolved by fate with an injury to BOTH of our main quarterbacks. Have no fear-- this is why team's have third stringers! Then, fate laughs again-- BAM! Another injury to the third stringer. Seriously? So, who do the Browns turn to? Some guy who had been their punt receiver and had been a QB in college. AND they also called some guy who had spent his season on his LazyBoy on Sundays, sipping beer at home. These guys are who the Browns played in their final game against the Steelers. Needless to say, it didn't go well.

Need numbers? Here is one: 25 consecutive quarters the Browns have gone without an Offensive touchdown. . . Really? They set a new NFL record for sucking. How fantastic.

My conclusion: I am officially a Packer fan now. I will always keep a special place in my heart for the Browns, but I am finding Green and Gold for next year.

Oops, I did it again. . .

When Andrew was 18 months old, he and I were playing on an old stair step machine in our basement when his fingers got cut on a rope and pulley; he almost severed a fingertip.

Today, I was exercising on a treadmill, and history felt it appropriate to repeat itself.

Evan had been in the basement near me shooting baskets as I was exercising. He was so proud of playing for nine minutes straight that he ran over to tell me the good news. Now- as I saw him coming, I thought to myself "He knows not to step on this, right?" Yet, as he got closer, I still began to say, "Ev. . ." I never finished my phrase.

He put his foot on the back of the treadmill and was immediately flung off the back. I gasped and turned to him and realized he had placed his hand on the back of the equipment. So, I frantically turned it off and turned back to him. He was howling and holding his hand.

One quick glance revealed that this was not an injury easily cured with a kiss and a band aid. I screamed to Chris and he ran downstairs to help.

Fortunately, my sister in law Anita was in the house and she is a nurse and nearly finished with school to be a Nurse Practitioner. She ultimately helped us doctor Ev up. She scurried to the Drug Store for some necessary medical supplies, while Chris and I worked to calm Evan down.

When she returned, she gingerly applied bandages, ointment and band aids to hold the bandages in place while he whimpered the whole time.

The moment she finished her care. . . Evan scooted off my lap. I looked at him and inquired," Where are you going?"

"To play!"

I love the resiliency of little boys. He is a trooper. My new rule: No more exercise. Too many people get hurt.

Really Wisconsin? Really?

When we first moved to Wisconsin, we often received comments such as "Are you crazy? It has to be freezing there?" We'd laugh, acknowledge an element of truth, then retort, "Yeah, but we don't get as much snow."

Typically, a Wisconsin winter is tolerable. The days are sunny, and the nights are frigid. And I do mean, frigid. Temps often dip into the negative numbers. It is not uncommon for Madison to hover around the zero mark for an extended period of time. Kids at school actually play outside as long as the temperature stays above zero! So, if it is five degrees, they are outside playing!

The trade off? Less snow. Usually, frigid temps are offset by fewer mornings outside breaking our backs with a shovel.

Until last year, this proved to be true.

2007-08 winter boasted the highest snow total ever in Southeastern Wisconsin, over 100 inches of snow. We shoveled, complained, shoveled, and complained more, and after the winter was over, we sighed in solace that the "worst winter ever" was over.

Hmm. .. This year may prove to outdo last year. In December we have already had over 30 inches of snow! In the last two weeks, we have had two snow days! Before then, school kids joked that they had never had a snow day-- only a cold day when wind chills dip--. We just received 12 inches of snow last Friday morning. Saturday evening treated us to 3-4 more inches. This morning's forecast predicts 3-6 inches tonight and 4-7 inches on Wednesday.

Really? Seriously, Wisconsin? Is this a sick joke? I mean, we moved here thinking a snow blower would be an unnecessary shed stuffer, and now our shovels are bending three times a week!

And really? Is there no trade off? Because after this weekend's snow, our temps dipped into the frigid category, not breaching zero for two days straight. Seriously?? Wind chills were in the negative twenty to thirty. . . Really?

So, as last year begins to look like a Utopian fantasy, I will begin browsing my magazines for a snow blower and some hefty ear muffs. Seriously??

I needed a butt protector

Remember the movie Revenge of the Nerds from the 80's? The nerds all proudly boasted huge white pocket protectors. I found out this week that those pocket protectors may have protected my behind. . .

I was sitting in the English office where my desk is, and I was chatting with a fellow colleague. Always needing something in my hands, I was playing with a pen while we talked. At one point, I went to put the pen in my mouth-- I know, not sanitary at all!-- and I saw that the back of it had fallen off.

Aghast, I quickly threw the pen out and congratulated myself smugly on my near miss of disaster. As I sat back down, I saw the ink portion of the pen lying on the floor. Quickly, I picked it up and threw it away as well. Phew- another near catastrophe. Yet, I eluded it with my keen sight.

We finished our conversation, and I headed for a quick trip to the restroom before class. As I was washing my hands, a blurb of color caught my eye. I turned around and saw a three inch brilliant blue blob of ink donning the rear end of my favorite pair of khakis. WHAT? I panicked.

Remember- I teach high school kids and they can be brutal at times. This was not the type of stain that is easily concealed. To cover it, I would have needed the 1980's to be back in style so that I could wrap a sweater around my waist and tie it over this Ohio-sized stain.

I tried soliciting my friends for any assistance. The best I could do was a Tide to Go stain remover that was already dried out! I resigned myself to humiliation and began each class with a brief anecdote about my plight. The students laughed, and I escaped the day.

Pants update: There is no way this stain will ever come out. When I took the pants off, the ink had also soaked into my skin. The stain had expanded.

So, had I been the proud owner of a pocket protector for my butt, this could have been avoided!

Friday Photo Fiesta: Can I take a hint?

This portion of the blog was written one month ago:

Sometimes my life gets so busy that I need to world to just give me a quick slap in the face to show me what needs to get done.

This week I pulled into my driveway and actually looked at the flower pot that lines the side of it. This is what I saw. ..

Hmm. . . Am I holding out hope that the 30 degree high we are experiencing is going to magically transform to 80 and that this poor little pepper will miraculously be edible? For some time in the fall, I had hopes that eventually I would be able to consume this baby green pepper. And, for awhile, nature obliged me. The weather was beautiful this fall! I even wore flipflops on Halloween.

Those days are over. It is winter coat weather now, not grow-a-pepper weather. I need to get out there and put the poor pepper to rest. Hopefully, I will not be posting a picture in winter of snow piled around the parched plant.

I may just need another slap in the face!

Ahh-- Here I am! Now four weeks later, laughing at the ultimate form of procrastination I currently embrace. I also revel in my own clairvoyance.

As predicted, here is my pepper plant now!

In a few short hours, it will be buried under ten inches MORE of snow. My only hope now is that next year my pepper plant will miraculously recover. It doesn't look good!

Energy crisis?

Constantly in the news I am hearing about an energy crisis in our world. The politicians debate it, the news exacerbate it, and the country fears it worsening. Yet, in my home over the last two weeks, I did not experience an energy crisis.

Evan is fortunate enough to be a participant in a home preschool program every Wednesday morning where a group of five moms take turns teaching our four year old sons a preschool lesson for over two hours on a topic of our choice. December happens to be my month as preschool mom. Having this honor means I am also the lucky mom to plan the holiday program-- happening this Thursday-- and to teach the kids songs, to make cookies, and to create secret crafts.

Two weeks ago my turn began, and I was completely amused by the amount of energy that five boys possess. Each week, their energy continued to increase. They would race into the house and sprint up my stairs and jump and frolic until circle time. During circle time, we would attempt to sit and discuss the topic of the day and look at the calendar. Inevitably, two boys would always be kicking their legs in the air or jumping with their knees solidly underneath them.

As we made our crafts, someone would always be teetering on the side of their chair, precariously perched on the precipice of a fall. Hands would be shooting across the table reaching for glue-- always the blue glitter glue-- and vying for an opportunity to use the best instruments.

While we decorated festive cookies for the party, the boys would be licking the frosting, their fingers and even the tables to slurp the last bit of yummy sweetness. I would watch them surreptitiously attempt to conceal their private pilfer of an M and M from the decorating bowls in the middle of the table. Free time was always their most energetic. Their favorite focus was donning superhero costumes and travelling to exotic locations in search of a new foe. They would race up and down the two sets of stairs in my house in search of the "bad guys." Watching them was enervating, causing me to rest my tired feet and merely observe their revelry. The most amusing display of energy was when I had them practice their Christmas program songs last evening. We sing five different songs and use three separate props. Trying to organize this effort was hysterical. Between every song the boys were twirling, leaping, wrestling, running, yelling, wiggling, and giggling. In my Utopian world, they would all stand still as soldiers demurely singing their tunes. Yet, this is not what boys do! They have a boundless supply of energy.

So, is there an energy crisis in our world? I don't think so. At least not in my world.

Super Snap

My age has been creeping up on me lately. I am nearing that age where I can check the box "35 and over." This freaks me out! Yet a few weeks ago, a group of ladies and I went out for an evening on the town. By the end of the night, my rapidly aging body revealed itself.

My friend Corina (see the blonde on the far left) and I had been trying to get a group of ladies together for an evening on the town for quite some time. Finally, we assembled a group of five women we work with to go to dinner in downtown Madison.

The evening began as we went to a restaurant named Frida's to enjoy some stellar Mexican food and pitchers of margaritas. We laughed, talked, laughed, talked, and so on for hours. We watched tables around us come and go. We ordered more drinks and just had so much fun laughing until tears were streaking down our eyes. Finally, our waiter came to our table to ask us to move as they were tearing down the upstairs as a transition for the dance club it would be soon.

Embarrassed, we acquiesced and headed downstairs. Shortly after, all the ladies but Corina and I decided to head home. However, Corina and I were ready to "get our groove on." We asked the waiter where "above average middle aged women" might enjoy a little dancing. Honestly, he was stumped! Hmm. . . Am I really that old?

Corina had gone to school at Madison, so she knew a club where she had gone as a student. When we walked in, we asked the lady at the door what type of music they would be playing. She responded "Indie Pop Queer?" We had no idea what that meant; we just wanted to dance.

So, we took our above-average-middle-aged bodies on the dance floor. Soon we were twisting, turning, shaking, and shimmying to whatever the DJ was playing. Around us were many much younger people dancing in a very different manner from us. Yet, we didn't care. (We also realized that the "queer" portion of the music theme may have been a reference to sexual preference. . . Oops!)

Soon I noticed that I was getting a cramp. Yes, a cramp! We had only been dancing for a few minutes, and I was already exhausted. Then, I noticed the oddest pang: my fingers on my left hand ached. How does that happen?

It hit me: I was using my "Super Snap" dance move. Everytime my hips moved, I would snap my fingers. This sent me into hysterics. I mean, who snaps their fingers? Am I from the 50's? Maybe I should bust out my poodle skirt and saddle shoes. Yet, I continued to snap. I would catch myself doing it anytime I got lost in the music. Shake, Shake, Snap-- Laugh! It was a riot.

We danced for a few more hours, and unlike when we were in college, we scurried home in time for Corina to pay her teenage babysitter.

Did I prove my age that evening? Perhaps. . . But, we had an amazing time.

CRASH!

. . . is not what you want to hear at 5:45 in the morning.

I was sitting in the computer room grading papers after my morning exercise. Chris had left to go to work only moments before. Then, I hear it: CRASH! It sounds like a gigantic piece of sheet metal has fallen off of something. My imagination escalates. Maybe someone has seen Chris leave and is trying to break in the house.

I cease my panic and start turning on lights in the basement. I look out my windows: Nothing. I look upstairs: Nothing. No kids are crying so they couldn't have fallen. So, I decide to look in the garage; this is a likely place for crashing noises. I don't see anything unusual there. Hmm. ..

Rattled, I decide to continue with my morning as usual. Shower, get dressed, blow dry. Get the kids up, fed, dressed, bags packed. This is where the morning got interesting.

Andrew and Brendan begin fighting about snow pants. Brendan's are too short, so he wants Andrew's pants. Andrew doesn't like the bigger pants. No one is happy-- including me! Out of frustration with the argument, I decide to go open the garage door and start the van to warm up.

I push the button for the garage door. Bzz. The door goes up an inch. Bzz. The door immediately goes back down. What?? I try again. Bzz. .. Bzz. Oh no! I start to look closer at the garage door. One side of the door doesn't look right. I see wires hanging where they shouldn't be. Yet I still try again. Bzz. Bzz. Nope, I am stuck.

I call Chris while searching for the emergency handle to open the door. Apparently the handle doesn't work when there are wires hanging. Bummer!

Ultimately, I send the boys walking to school; I call the repair man, and he informs me it is probably a broken spring. He is coming tomorrow to inspect it. (Think happy thoughts that it won't be a new door. We really don't need that right now!) Ev's babysitter had to give me a ride to school.

The sound of my chaotic morning: CRASH!

Quick add: The repairman came today. No new door- just a couple of new springs. All is well.

So Much Christmas. . . So little Time

One of the reasons I relish the holiday season is best represented through the plethora of opportunities we have to spend time with our families. This weekend, our family enjoyed two holiday activities together, which were both incredible.

The first event we had been anticipating for quite some time. Way back in September a school friend emailed me information about a holiday lecture that a chemistry professor at UW Madison gives every year that is hugely popular with kids. My first thought: Lecture? Fun? Hmm. . . But, I sent away for the FREE tickets and tucked them away when receiving them in October.

The day arrived to see the show entitled, "Once Upon a Christmas Cheery, In the Lab of Shakishiri." (pronounced-- Shack-i-sheer-e) We bundled the boys and headed to downtown Madison to the University. We arrived in perfect time to find our seats in their traditional Chemistry lab transformed into a holiday demonstration room.

My kids had varying thoughts before the show. Evan was bewildered, puzzling over where his parents had taken him now. Brendan was entertained. I showed him how to maneuver the desks that appeared for students to write on in front of the seats. Andrew was panicked! We had told him there would probably be explosions, and he was near-tears, prattling about how he was not going to like this show.

The professor appeared to begin the show and immediately began popping these balloons with a blowtorch, sending plumes of flames towards to ceiling and broadcasting loud BOOMs; all of which further exacerbated Andrew's fear. However, the show began to relax him as the professor showed how dry ice can be a catalyst for changing colors and creating steam. He showed how a hair dryer could keep a balloon, a ping pong ball, and another ball in the air -- all at once! He showed how a chemical and a magnet could make a reaction continuously change colors.

Special guest appearances were also made by Bucky Badger and Santa Claus! I am not sure who the boys were more thrilled to see. Bucky has become an icon in our house, especially with Brendan and Evan. However, all three boys delighted in Santa's appearance. Brendan was disappointed after the show that Santa had left before he could see the reindeer fly away. I am cried it was so sweet!

The show was truly remarkable! It was fun, and it was free!

This morning the high school that I teach at sponsored at Breakfast with Santa breakfast. Having a few students in the sponsoring club, I felt an obligation to go and support a good cause, so we all trooped there before church. It was wonderful!

The students were serving food, all dressed alike in their blue Hero Club shirts. The boys were able to enjoy all-you-can-eat pancakes, sausage, and donuts. It was as if they had truly discovered their own heaven. Andrew ate pancakes until "he just couldn't finish anymore." Brendan just kept eating donuts until mom and dad cut him off. I enjoyed a morning off from breakfast-making!

On our way out, I tried to talk the boys into going to see Santa. I thought Evan may be intrigued: he was petrified. Interestingly, Andrew said he would go see Santa if I came with him. So, Andrew and I trudged up to see Santa. This should come as no surprise, but Andrew and Santa talked for about two minutes about sports. Yes, sports! They were discussing the Packers. (Brendan later asked if I thought Santa was a Packer fan!) He was the only boy who would talk to Santa. Honestly, I think he was interested in the free candy cane!

So, this ended another great holiday weekend!

My Ornaments

One of my favorite traditions has always been setting up my Christmas tree. Over the years, my tree has experienced some unique looks. When the boys were all little, all the ornaments were on the top half of the tree, leaving the bottom for homemade ornaments that I didn't mind seeing broken. Then, as the boys wanted to help, our ornaments would all be placed in the direct middle of the tree and in great concentration there as the boys were putting them in the first spot they detected. But, this year was different.

This year, I put the ornaments on mostly by myself. The three boys meandered in and out of the room between games on the computer. So, I was able to place the ornaments where I wanted.

I hadn't realized how nostalgic many of the ornaments would make me.

First, I put up each of the White House ornaments that my Grandma Dilley purchases for all the ladies each year. These ornaments are simply stunning, ranging from replicas of the White House to displaying a horse and carriage to a little drummer boy. Typically, the ornaments sparkle with a shiny gold background. What startled me the most this year was the amount of the ornaments I had. Wasn't it just yesterday that she began buying us these? Actually, I think it has been almost 15 years!

Next, I selected a few of the ornaments that Chris' grandmother had made for us when we were first married. These ornaments were lovingly created by her, and the box that contains them even still holds the note that she enclosed when she gifted them to us.

I began finding ornaments from my collection that mom had given me through the years. There is the recent (only ten years old) ornament from Mount Union College. The porcelain white bell from 1978. The Andover ball from 1987. The brass bell from 1982. The 1975 Disney ball actually brought tears brimming to my eyes. This object is as old as I am !

I found my favorite ornament from Rosalind, a little Snowbaby swaddled from the Hallmark Snowbaby collection. I also treasure a golden angel she purchased years ago for us.

I found Chris' old collection of ornaments from when he grew up; my favorite, a Christmas tree with his name engraved.

I found years of the boys' ornaments that Grandma Doucette purchased representing "My first Christmas, My second Christmas" and so on.

I found ornaments from students that I have had in years past. One from a student from 1998. I love finding that ornament every year to remind me of her kindness. I put one on my tree from a student who gave it to me only last year. What a special memory.

As I finished, I looked at the tree and realized it was still incomplete. It is waiting for the additional ornaments that we add each and every year that will continue to create a special feeling of Christmas.

Hands down. .. We win!

Since moving to Wisconsin, our family strives to set records in many categories: Busiest daily schedule, busiest weeks, and most importantly- busiest holiday travelling schedule.

We attempted to set new records again this year, leaving home last Sunday morning and returning one week later on Sunday evening.

Quick Recap:

Sunday-- We drove to Tim and Anita's house to let the boys all play together. I adore watching the five boy cousins just romp and play together. They revel in it, and I revel in some time with my brother and sister in-law.

Sunday evening we drove to mom's to go to sleep. Total car time: 9.5 hours

Monday- We relaxed a little with mom, met my precious niece McCamey, then drove to the calling hours for my Grandma Compan. That evening, we chose to sleep at Tim and Ni's to allow the boys more play time. Total car time: 3 hours

Tuesday- We drove to Grandma's funeral and visited with family afterwards. Then, we headed to Cattaraugus, New York for the first time in almost 11 months to visit Chris' family. We were all eagerly anticipating the visit as it had been a lengthy stretch. Total car time: 4 hours

Wednesday- Thursday- Yes, can you believe it? We stayed put. For two whole days. I sat on the couch until my butt literally ached from excessive sitting. What a blessing.

I was also able to see my rapidly-growing adorable niece Samantha. Here is a precious picture of her donning her favorite boots as she had been chasing after the boys at grandma's house.
Friday- At the wee hour of 4:30, the Doucette ladies woke up and drove to the stores for our annual early morning shopping! We have done this for almost ten years now, and I look forward to it every year. I can remember in the early days of this shopping trip, we would have to look for each other when we got separated. Now, with cell phones we are a well-oiled machine. We scout out the best lines and call when we find them. Too fun!

Then, we met Chris and the boys to head back to my mom's house. When we got to mom's, we quickly ate some dinner and immediately headed to my brother Jeff's first game of the season. Total car time: 2.5 hours

All of my family was there to cheer on Jeff. All seven grandchildren. Proud grandma and grandma. Tif, Chris, and I. Only Tim and Anita were gone at Tim's class reunion. We were a boisterous crew!

Here I am savoring a few moments with McCamey. Look at her sweet little smile!

Noah- Looking precious as always!

Saturday- The boys enjoyed a day of doing what they do well: video games!

I had a baby shower for a dear high school friend of mine at 11:30. Then, we relaxed in the afternoon. Later that evening was my 15 year high school reunion. I will blog about that later this week.

Sunday- The race home. The weather was worsening with the first major snowstorm of the midwest. The snow added a few headaches and a few hours to our drive, but we made it! Total car time: 10.5 hours

Another busy fun-filled holiday. More records set.

Obama?

You know what people say about others who make assumptions? Well. . .

When we were driving home on Sunday morning last weekend, we had to drive through the Chicago area. As we drove through the downtown highway of Chicago, we noticed these two police cars behaving strangely.

I quickly commented to Chris that the police were driving worse than anyone else on the road. The cars were cutting people off by swerving if anyone attempted to pass them. They were dodging in and out of lanes and switching places. Had I been doing the same actions, I would probably be facing significant fines.

After watching the police, we noticed that ahead of them was another police car, and in between the police cars were two SUV's with dark tinted windows. Now, our mind started racing. Cars. Dark Windows. Police escort. Sunday morning. Chicago. Obama?? Who else could it be?

At that moment the caravan began to signal to exit the highway, so we craned our necks to try to glimpse the important passengers riding in the SUV's. To no avail-- the windows were too dark, and we were too far away.

Therefore, I am letting my imagination run! I am certain that I was merely two car lengths away from our next president of the United States. How exciting!

I hope that my assumption isn't proving that I am merely an _____!

It's not always that easy

Parenting 101: When a belligerent child takes a stance that you disagree with, hold your ground and don't give in. If you do give in, there is a good chance that the child will never learn the appropriate response. If you continue to act consistently, eventually it will get easier.

Up until now, this rule has worked for me. However, when I had Evan, the rule book got thrown out the window and run over by a car.

I have been discussing Evan's dislike of his winter coat, yet his clothing preferences don't stop there. Ev is vehemently opposed to any clothes resembling "nice." No khakis, no jeans, no sweaters. Nothing. Consequently, when we were going to my Grandma Compan's calling hours and funeral last week, we had a monumental problem on our hands.

For the calling hours, Andrew and Brendan immediately obliged us and dressed up before we left; Evan, however, did not. So, we took his clothes in the car. When we arrived, he screamed and cried, so I got out of the car with the older boys and left Chris to fend for himself with Evan in the van. His mission: get him dressed appropriately.

20 minutes later I am in the funeral home, and Chris is still in the van, trying to be reasonable with Evan about why he should wear his sweater. I trudge out to the van and eventually persuade him to merely put his dress clothes over the clothes he was wearing. That was a compromise he could live with.

He looked hilarious! His khaki pants looked like those Spiderman costumes with the fake muscles, except for the muscles were on his legs.

As soon as we got back to Tim's that night, Ev shed his layer of clothes. Here he is with his double pants.

In this next picture, Evan points to the shirt he has already disregarded the moment he walked in the door.

The next day of the funeral was worse. I had thought that if I adhered to my parenting rules that Evan would surely understand that mom and dad were not going to give in to him.

Apparently, Ev has his own rule book.

He cried, screamed, ripped off the good clothes for over two hours. Chris and Evan missed the whole funeral and burial while sitting in the car locked in a stalemate. Ultimately, we compromised with doubled up clothes again, but not before overwhelming frustration surfaced.

What have I learned?
1. The rules don't apply for each kid. All we can do is do our best.
2. Khakis are more flexible than I thought.
3. Kids teach parents much more than we ever teach them.
4. I need a new rule book.

Gratitude

A hackneyed approach to Thanksgiving is to lovingly list all of those people and things that we are thankful for. For me, I feel I give this affirmation often through the blog. So, this Thanksgiving I want to facetiously highlight those quirks that I am grateful for.

* I am grateful that my kids are noisy. I mean, what do I really need sanity for anyways?

* I am grateful for my Fantasy Football team with my friend Corina. It is our first year and we are FF Rockstars, recently taking first place in our league!

* I am grateful for our Wii. I am not sure how I would ever get grading done at home without it.

* I am grateful for my 125 students. They make me laugh, scream, smile, cry, and cringe. Yes, all in that order!

* I am grateful for my blog. Without my blog, I wouldn't be able to communicate with some of you. How fortunate I feel to have online relationships with some awesome friends.

* I am grateful for my health. Ok- as I sit here writing, I have a Kleenex in my hand and my nose is so stuffy I am breathing through my mouth. However, I am grateful that these concerns are the greatest health concerns our family has going right now.

* I am grateful that I have so much food at home that it seemingly bogs me down at times. I scour the cupboard, looking for dinner, and I move that same can of Creamed Corn next to the old Mandarin Oranges in a can that I am sure I won't eat. (Honestly, I think the cans moved with us from Cleveland.) However, I am fortunate to have them in the cupboard at all.

* I am grateful for my lip gloss! Yes, lip gloss! My favorite Mary Kay Gold Rush gloss is poppin', and I love how it makes me feel.

* I am grateful for chocolate and treat days on Friday at my work. There is just something about having a treat every Friday that creates such solace at the end of a busy work week.

In honesty, I am grateful for the cliche'd things as well: my beautiful family (husband, boys, parents, siblings, and all!), our present job security, health, and merely a wonderful life.

Happy Turkey Day to you all!

Closure

As I sat at my grandmother's funeral this week, I felt perplexed. I know that funerals are designed for the family to give closure to our feelings of loss and give opportunities to say goodbye to those we love.

Yet, it doesn't work that way for me. I sit at the funerals and feel empty; I don't want to go the casket to view someone who is not there anymore. Those are not the final images I want in my mind of people who have been so vitally important to me.

So, where do I get closure? My grandmother had been suffering from dementia for a few years, so I have been feeling the loss of her for a long time. But, I don't feel closure.

Today I had an idea: I would write about a few of the memories that capture my grandmother in my mind. Then, I could at least feel like I have commemorated her memory.

When I think of grandma, her voice and eyes are the first picture I get. I can see myself walking into grandma's house, and she would enthusiastically hug and kiss each one of us. Grandma would say, "Oh, Jenny! You have grown so much!" Without fail, she would hug each one of us and her unique strong voice would resonate and make us smile.

Then, as we ate any meal at grandma's, we would play with her Lazy Susan, spinning it around to reach for the item we wanted (and for fun as well.) I remember wanting mom to have a Lazy Susan so badly after being at Grandma's because I loved playin with it.

I can remember mom and Grandma discussing books as both of them shared a common love of reading.

I also can see her characteristic snow-white hair sitting in the stands at each of my important high school events. Grandma and Grandpa would make the two hour trek to our house in order to see us perform in a plethora of activities.

I remember being at her house as a little girl, watching my uncles playing with lawn darts in the backyard. Grandma would always worry about one of us kids getting to close to the darts.

I picture grandma and grandma and their feisty interactions. When I was in college, mom, dad, and I went to visit them in Florida. As we walked through the airport, Grandma and grandma were upset with each other about something, and grandpa told her "I'm gonna kick your butt!" She laughed and said, "You couldn't if you tried." I laughed so hard! They had an amazing chemistry that allowed their intense passion to always be in the forefront.

I remember countless Christmas Eves in Grandma's front room with all of us grandchildren opening presents at one time. The noise was deafening, but one voice could always be heard about it all: Grandma Compan's. She would be laughing, smiling, and hugging each of us.

More than anything, I remember a woman with an amazing spirit. Grandma Compan had such fire and vitality. I always wanted to emulate her passion and love for life. She didn't live life quietly; she lived it strong and to the fullest. I will miss her more than I can express.

Do we need The Biggest Loser?

. . . Maybe just a new coat!

Being around weight-conscious high schoolers apparently has rubbed off on my language at home. I listen to the teens point to minuscule amounts of fat on their bodies and weep about how fat they feel. "I just won't eat lunch. Maybe I can exercise longer tonight" are comments that spill from their mouths as they attempt to problem solve their nonexistent belly.

I nostalgically smile as I remember also feeling the same way at their age, yet as a mother, I know that my problems are bigger. "Three kids" bigger. "Three kids, stress, and desire to eat what I want" bigger. Ridding my body of fat would take more than a skipped meal or lengthy exercise routine. While this is all normal for a woman to think, I must be over verbalizing at home. I was reminded of this at the oddest time this week. . .

We were getting ready to go to school this past Thursday, and I was struggling to get Evan to understand that when the weather man forecasts a high of 25 degrees, Evan needs to concede and wear a winter coat. I had finally convinced the older boys, and they were donning the appropriate apparel.

Evan, however, was not.

He was screaming and crying, and, in truth, had he not been going to preschool, I would have applied basic love and logic and let him be cold. However, I couldn't feel right about sending him to preschool where other parents may think I am out of my mind.

Our fight continued, and like a good mom, I offered simple bribery: You put this winter coat on, and I will give you two pieces of candy to eat on the way. Ultimately, with tears streaming down his face, he begrudgingly conceded defeat. As he put the coat on, he hung his head, slumped his shoulders, and screamed, " I look so fat in this coat."

WHAT?

SERIOUSLY?

I was stuck in a mixture of pure shock, horror, and humor all at once. He felt fat in his coat? Since when does a four year old care how he looks? Especially a four year old who was just bribed with chocolate?

I am not certain that he had any idea what he was saying, but one message rang clear to me: I need to stop talking about my weight. Obviously, Evan is listening and internalizing my dissatisfaction.

So, the real question remains, did he wear the coat? Yep, he wore it both Thursday and Friday, but he continues to refuse when he isn't at school. That's my Ev.

My grandma

Last night, my Grandma Compan passed away. While I knew she wasn't doing well, I was still startled by the news. I wasn't sure how to sit and articulate truly what I am feeling, but I logged on anyways to give it a try.

Then, I looked at Tif's last entry and realized that she summed up completely how I feel about my Grandma. Here is a link to read Tif's tribute to Grandma Compan.

She will be missed!

Another Christmas Activity. . . Check!

At Christmas time, I constantly feel as I am operating off of a mental checklist. Buy presents. .. Check! Wrap presents. . . Check! Put up tree. . .Check! Keep sane in light of insanity. . . Check?

So, I am always grateful to check items off of my list early. The boys school played a major role in accommodating this early checklist. Tonight, we attended both Andrew and Brendan's holiday concert.

You heard me-- it was Christmas the week before Thanksgiving. Honestly, what a relief! The concert sparked a little Christmas spirit in me as well.

Evan thought he would get in the spirit of dress up by donning the Indian headband he made in today's preschool class. (Ok- so he was probably the only person who was dressed with proper holiday etiquette in the whole building!)

Brendan's concert was first beginning at 5:30. I had lost the paper instructing the parents on how the kids were supposed to dress. Therefore, I operated from memory that I thought he should dress the opposite of Andrew. I dressed Brendan all in brown and decorated his head with a pair of antlers to look the part of a reindeer. When we got there, I noticed most of the other kids in his class looked like elves. Hmmm. . . . He didn't care! He proudly wore his antlers and sang his little heart out.

His program was so festive, and as I listening to all their young voices singing the first holiday song, I got a little misty-eyed just watching their pure joy and pride and singing. One song that made me smile discussed a Christmas SOS that may make you LOL. (Text language in a Christmas song??) Brendan did a great job!

Andrew's show began shortly after the end of Brendan's. I had to torture Andrew to force him to wear the elf hat before the program, yet as I walked him to his class ahead of time, he eagerly placed it on his head and was welcomed into the gamut of holiday elves waiting for him.

Andrew's show content expressed a unique idea: Santa's going green! All songs focused around the idea of Santa becoming more environmentally friendly. I found the lyrics both entertaining and timely. "Power to the People" was one song that focused on empowering people to become more concerned about their abilities to help the environment. It was truly great!

The kids both performed enthusiastically and with focused concentration. You can see from the look on Andrew's face that he wanted to perform with precision!

Another holiday activity checked off our list. Green elf hat. . . Check! Reindeer ears . . . check! One set of proud parents. . . Check!

His Very Own Bible

Growing up in the Methodist Church, I learned many of its fine traditions. Confirmation in eight grade. Communion when you are ready and able. Absolute love of "How Great Thou Art."

There was one tradition, however, that I had forgotten about until last week: Third graders getting their first bible.

We received a letter a few weeks ago announcing that third graders would be recognized with their very own bible, and Andrew, of course, is in third grade. So, on Sunday in church, the time came.

Third graders remained at the front of the church after the children's sermon. The kids all watched the pastor talk fondly of her first bible as she proudly displayed its many bookmarks and frayed pages.

This prompted a brief moment of reflection for me. Where was my third grade bible? I remember receiving it; I can still picture the black cover with gold writing. I always visualize it in the bottom of our coat closet at home in a stack of miscellaneous books we had stacked there. I haven't seen it in years. (I hate to admit that.) Perhaps it is still there?

Anyways, after my nostalgic moment, the pastor then proudly presented each third grader with their own bible. She called Andrew's name and he eagerly grabbed his own copy marked with his name, the church, and the pastor's name as well. Then, Pastor Sharon encouraged them all to look up and read their very first bible verse together.

I was proud of Andrew's enthusiasm about receiving the bible. He even took it to Sunday School immediately following the sermon.

It seems like every day as a family we encounter another "first" as the boys continue to keep growing and maturing. I feel like a spectator at times, just watching them mature. However, I am so proud to be their mom.

I like to move it, move it. ..

We like to move it, move it! They like to. . .MOVE IT!

If you have children under the age of 10, those lyrics immediately bring choruses from the children's movie, Madagascar. Tonight, we went as a family to watch the encore to Madagascar in the theaters.

The boys' school sponsors an occasional family evening at the movies where we pay $6 a person and we get a movie, popcorn, and a drink. So, I always jump at the chance for some cheap entertainment.

We rushed home from school and work together to gulp down dinner, scurry through homework, and dash to the movies.

Immediately upon entering the theaters, the boys stated, "Can we go sit up in front with our friends?" Of course, I obliged them but silently pondered how they grew up so fast that sitting in the dark no longer scared them? Hanging out with their buddies was vastly more important than a little family time. They moved three rows up and plopped next to a classmate.

Evan, not sure of where he fit, decided to sit one row ahead of us: by himself? I kept asking him if he wanted to move back with me, and he said, "The boys aren't there." Eventually, I coerced him to at least sit next to Andrew and Brendan so I didn't feel awkward about him sitting all alone in a dark theater.

So, Chris and I got an evening movie show sitting by ourselves watching cartoon characters act silly. The movie was entertaining. It was hilarious to watch the boys with the heads bopping in time to the music. Never as good as the original, Madagascar was still a great family movie.

I took solace in the fact that at the end of the night, mom and dad were still the people the boys sought out. I mean, how else would they get home?

Conferences

Ten years ago as a new teacher, parent teacher conferences intimidated me a little. I was a mere four years older than some of their children, and the parents were quick to question my authority.

Now, 10 years older and "wiser", conferences take on new meaning. My conferences began this week on Monday evening. We completed a full day at school ending at 3:25, raced to the teacher's lounge for a quick meal, and began seeing parents at 4:oo pm. This set of conferences proved to be fruitful as I saw some "must see" parents of kids who needed redirection. Lines outside my room, no time for breaks, the evening raced by and ended at 8:00 pm that night after being at school for over 12 hours!

Tuesday evening came, and it was my turn to be the parent. Evan had preschool parent-teacher conferences. I was excited to chat with Ev's teachers as it is his first year at the preschool, and I am wavering about sending him to kindergarten next week with his August birthday. Ev's teachers were thrilled with his classroom performance, highlighting his constant smile and upbeat demeanor. They complimented his ability to make friends with virtually everyone in the room and his appropriate classroom behavior. They did indicate that he is starting to feel more comfortable with them, and sometimes shows his silly side as well. Phew-- Good news in all.

Thursday evening approached next, and it was time to see Andrew and Brendan's teachers. Andrew was first. His teacher presented us with his report cards of solid A's and a few stray B's. She praised his math ability and explained his inattentiveness to details-- at times-- in other subjects that are not quite as appealing to him. She continued to highlight all the positive attributes he brings to class like attentiveness to books, sense of humor, and a positive attitude. We also breezed by his speech teacher, who is now reducing his speech time to once a week because of his improvement with his stuttering! Phew-- two good reports. This was looking positive.

Finally, we went to Brendan's teacher. As we sat down, she paid Brendan the biggest compliment. She said, "This will be quick. Brendan is a wonderful kid. If I had a class full of Brendan's, I wouldn't have any problems." I beamed. How wonderful to hear about your child. She highlighted his reading capabilities and showed us positive testing scores. Our conference was concise yet effective: Brendan is doing a great job!

So, we did it. Four conferences in a week. Everything is good. Phew!

I'm not getting paid for this. . . Promise!

Disclaimer: In no way am I being supported or bribed by the Yoplait company. My thoughts and reactions described below are all mine!

I felt the need to preface this blog with a warning as my shameless promotion of a Yoplait product will rapidly follow.

Accidentally, I stumbled upon this euphoric treat about six months ago after receiving a free coupon the week previously at the grocery store checkout. Yoplait for Digestive Health? I murmured to myself. Well, I love yogurt, so I can always use the discount.

Little did I know that I was creating an addiction that is uneasily broken.

At that point let me issue another warning: If you enjoy yogurt, be wary about reading on. You may also suffer the severe consequence of single minded addiction once you partake in this one of a kind taste. (Don't say I didn't warn you!)

I took my yogurt to work the following day, and at lunch began my perfunctory routine of eating my yogurt as I graded papers. Yet, I was startled this day at a new experience. This yogurt was good. Not just good, but oh-my-god good. I-need-to-stop-and-sigh-by-myself good. The velvety smooth texture felt like I was eating ice cream or pudding. The vanilla flavor was sweet enough to taste like a treat, but not overpowering to inundate the senses.

As further confirmation to the unique nature of the yogurt, Chris even remarked to me after taking one to work that it was especially tasty.

I began to try variations on the yogurt. No, I didn't veer from the vanilla, but I would cut up strawberries and eat them heaped on top of the yogurt. I even tried both raspberries and blueberries. Each experience provided a tantalizing experience.

Something this good couldn't be kept a secret. I began to tell all yogurt lovers I knew.

Haughtily, I would scoff at other people's yogurts in their lunch, boasting that mine was the best yogurt and that they should try it. The result? Two ladies I eat lunch with at work have converted to Yoplait Digestive Health yogurt. One friend was telling me today that she sent her husband to buy more yogurt at the store, and he accidentally bought the wrong brand. Even she confessed, "It's not the same!"

Curious yet? I promise, this yogurt will deliver amazing results.

(Also, as a side benefit, it is also good for the belly!)

Yoplait doesn't pay me yet, maybe they should reconsider?

Sleigh Ride?

I am a Christmas fanatic. I love the lights. I love the trees. I love the presents, wrapping paper, carols, and all. However, I don't want to revel in these delights until the day after Thanksgiving. Then, I want complete inundation.

So, to my surprise this morning as I was scanning the radio, I heard a Christmas song, "Sleigh Ride." My first reaction was to be appalled. Seriously? Christmas music? It is only November.

"It's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you."

As I listened to the lyrics, I looked at the completely barren landscape blurring past my car, thinking that taking a sleigh ride through the empty cornfields would be not lovely at all. The bumps and aches that would ensue from a sleigh ride at this point would not be worth the hassle. While our current 30 degree weather would be preferable to the 0 degrees Wisconsin will boast soon, I still need to wait.

"Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, That's grand. Just holding your hand."

I considered turning the song off at that point. Honestly, it was never the most inspiring part of the song for me. And, I was still incredibly annoyed at the Christmas assault prematurely launched in November.

"These magical things are the things we will remember all through our lives."

Oh, no! This is where the music started to get me. Holiday music seems to take over my senses. I began to feel nostalgic tears welling as I considered the magic of the holidays. I remember opening presents as a kid with my parents. I remember the awesome sleigh ride I went on with my family a few years ago. I remember my kids and their joy on Christmas morning. I absolutely stifled tears throughout the last few stanzas of the song.

At the conclusion of the song, the station gleefully announced that they are playing "all Christmas, all the time until Christmas Day." This proclamation snapped me back to reality.

Is it truly necessary to inundate people with holiday spirit when the leaves are still falling from the trees? Am I being a total Scrooge? Admittedly, Christmas embodies everything I love, but come on, can't we hold off just a few more weeks?I feel that introducing Christmas early is a way to coerce people to boost the economy by purchasing any of the obligatory holiday items.

When the time comes -- and it will on November 28th-- bring on the music. Until then, can it!

Bowling, Bowling, Bowling

I have the unique situation to absolutely love the people I work with. The English Department at our high school is dynamic and so much fun to be around. So, we have recently decided, as a department, that it would be entertaining to gather our families together more often outside of school.

For the first, of what I hope is many, outings, we chose to go bowling with our families.

When we first arrived, I was a little taken aback by the amount of people at the alley. I had called on Saturday to affirm that there were no major leagues or events going on Sunday, and the man on the phone assured me, "Nope, you'll be fine!" Well, we weren't fine. Almost all the lanes were full because of a tournament scheduled that day, so we grabbed three available lanes that were each spaced a lane apart.

We put the first groups on the lanes bowling, then strategically glared at the people innocently trying to revel in between us. Ultimately, our glares had no impact but we eventually were able to bowl as an extended group.

Evan decided to befriend another little guy, Gabe, who he had played football with at a previous gathering.

Four boys, two of mine and two of my friend Lisa's, all bowled together on the middle lane with Chris as the chaperone.

We put a whopping six people on one lane with some department kids and one adult keeping them corralled.

The rest of us adults spread out as the lanes opened up and enjoyed a few games with only a few mishaps. I bowled my best games in years only after figuring out that I was bowling with the wrong hand. Oops! Jess' husband took a quick dive to the floor when his bowling shoes lost their traction. Rick had his first turkey in his esteemed bowling career, but he couldn't be outdone by Jason's last minute save to earn him the bowling title in the final game. We eventually finished bowling with the adults complaining of our various aches from non use of the "bowling muscles." I had even forgotten their were muscles specific to the game! Then, we relaxed, ate some pizza and let the kids play in the arcade a little, earning their trinkets such as bouncy balls and scary teeth.

Officially, I declare our bowling outing an exemplary way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I do hope we have many more like this.

I know I'm from Wisconsin

Sometimes life makes concepts painfully obvious. This week, I was amused at how many times I recognized that I know I'm in Wisconsin.

You know you're from Wisconsin when . . .

1. . . .your weather changes from 70 degrees to 40 degrees within two days.

2. . . . when the first snow comes, you see a plethora of people strolling outside in T-shirts. (They didn't even flinch!)

3. . . your children refuse to wear anything warmer than a fleece even though it is only 35 degrees. Evan wouldn't even wear a fleece. Long sleeves were enough for him.

4. . . you are talking about how much snow the people "Up North" got. (Everyone in this area says "up north" to refer to anything more than 10 miles north of Madison.)

5. . . Even slushy snow doesn't stop the tackle football in the front yard.

6. . . you still have a plant attempting to grow a pepper sitting in the front of the garage when it has been snow/sleeting all day. (Hmmm. . . maybe I should throw it away and give up on the pepper!)

7. . . Even the adults refuse to put on their winter coats in the cold. We know that in March, 35 degrees will feel like a heat wave and we will probably put on shorts!

8. . . When the snow came, I was wearing high heeled sandals to school. My feet were freezing as I heard the heater kick on at school. Oops-

Ahh, yes. The joys of Wisconsin.

Children of the corn?

Remember how freaky the idea of Children of the Corn was when we were younger? Just thinking about being lost in a field of corn produced spine-tingling shivers for me. So, what would possess our family to aimlessly wander in a corn field for hours on end?

A huge corn maze

When mom and dad were in town last year, we decided on a whim to drive to a local farm to try out their corn maze. We were so impressed with the maze that mom and dad have committed to an annual outing to Wisconsin to partake in the fun.

Here is an aerial shot of this year's maze.

The maze begins over by the little frog in the right hand corner of the picture. As participants, we were given one puzzle piece that outlined the how to find the first mailbox which housed the second puzzle piece. We were also given a "safety" map in case we needed to get out and couldn't devise a way to safety. Finally, we were given a challenge to find 8 poles with hole punchers hidden in obscure locations throughout the maze.

So, we began. Chris and dad worked out a system where they would plot each path specifically trying to cover each path in order to not miss a punch along the way. We instituted a "divide and conquer" strategy where each group would head in a different direction with a captain holding a map looking for the hole punches and ultimately each of the 7 mailboxes along the way.

Tirelessly, the boys would run down each undiscovered row and minute crevices to determine if the elusive hole puncher was hidden there. Mom and I merely meandered after them as we were never entrusted with a map. We were followers who were able to enjoy watching the revelry of the boys.

Without noticing it, two hours flew by and we victoriously located the final hole punch and the final puzzle piece. It is always with a bit of nostalgic hesitation that we begin to leave the maze as we have all had an amazing time. We stopped this year to climb a viewing tower that overlooks the maze before we exited.

We triumphantly swaggered to the prize table to claim our fabulous prizes of a piece of candy and a certificate certifying us as "Official Maze Masters." Mom and dad plan to proudly post theirs on their fridge right about last years.

I can't wait to play in the corn again next year.

A busy Halloween

With my parents visiting for Halloween, I knew the boys would work to keep us all busy. They surely didn't disappoint.

I went into work for a few hours that morning as there wasn't any school and I needed to catch up on grading. Mom and dad brought the boys over in the mid-morning to begin our day.

We drove to our favorite putt-putt in Madison that was offering a spooktactular deal where you could golf each of their putt-putt courses for only about $5 a person. Seeing that the weather was near 70 degrees, we were thrilled to take advantage of this offer.

We started on the indoor course that had been decorated for Halloween. Even grandma and grandpa decided to golf.

Then, we headed outside to play on the outdoor putt putt courses. The courses are designed to be interactive, so the kids took advantage of every opportunity to have fun. However, if you have never played putt putt with my kids, you should know that they golf at a frantic pace, racing against an invisible clock that keeps track of their speed records.

54 holes of putt putt later, we left exhausted to go home.

But we weren't' done yet. . .

Grandma had brought her applesauce making equipment so that we could have yummy applesauce throughout the winter. Tif blogged about the process in a recent post as well. Brendan and Evan willingly joined in to assist with the delicious creation.

Being Halloween, the night, of course, culminated in going Trick or Treat. The Utopian weather had the neighbors all outside gabbing together. I was even wearing flip flops! The boys ran from house to house while their trick or treats subsided and a mere bag shove took the place of their manners. However, I was pleased to always hear "Thank you" resonating as they ran down the drive to the next house. Evan even quipped a few "Have a happy Halloween!"s as he ran away. To make the night even more memorable, as mom and I were walking the boys down the home stretch, mom saw a shooting star. You could see the streak that the star left so bright and bold in the dark sky. It was truly amazing!

The adults then collapsed the moment we put the boys to bed. Tomorrow, I will update on our final day with mom and dad.

He shoved what? where?

Being the mom of three boys, I have learned to anticipate that life doesn't always flow smoothly. The boys will invent way to cause chaos and disorder. Yet, what happened today took even me by surprise. There is a first for everything.

Evan started screaming out of the blue and grabbing his nose, telling me how badly it hurt. My first instinct was that he was just another member of the "Too-much-loving-my-nostrils-with-my-finger club." I scolded him about picking his nose and looked for the blood to come out.

Nothing.

Ok- New strategy. Bribery. Evan was still screaming, so I offered my lap and a fresh glass of chocolate milk. This strategy worked. He was merely whimpering and finishing his milk at the same time.

When the milk was gone, Evan kept grabbing his nose and telling me that it really hurt. I was unbelievably trying to decide how high up his nose he actually got his finger. So, I decided to get a good look. I looked up his nose and saw what I believed to be a HUGE booger.

I instructed Evan to go to the bathroom to get a Kleenex to blow his nose. When he came out, he had tried blowing, and the "booger" was getting sucked in and out of his nose as he breathed. I tried to grab it with the Kleenex to no avail. So, I decided to "take one for the team" and grab the invading blob. To my surprise, it was solid. - Definitely not a booger.

It was a rock. -- Pebble to be exact. I would guess it was about 2-3 cm big.

I asked Evan why he put it in his nose? He quipped, "I don't know."

Ahh yes. The pebble came out and Ev was fine. Just tack this one now on my list of things I can commiserate with. The beat goes on. . .

Pumpkins

I need to admit something difficult: I don't enjoy carving pumpkins.

It seems this time of year that our tradition of slaughtering pumpkins and creating ghoulish faces on them is overrated. I always hear people discuss the fun and joy of pumpkin creation, yet I have not enjoyed carving pumpkins as a parent yet.

Yes, we always carve.

Yes, the kids are always proud.

Yes, I put a smile on my face.

Ultimately, it is the adults that do the work while the kids half cheer you on and then leave the room for you to finish the work.

Yesterday was no different. I started the carving myself loosening up all the pumpkins seeds so that the extraction would be easier. The boys came in and then mostly emptied the seeds on their own. The most fun for them came with allowing them to create their faces with markers. Andrew and Brendan created faces, but Evan attempted a masterpiece. He had marker all over his pumpkin in an effort to create the most frightening pumpkin he could.

Then, I turned the dirty work over the my dad and Chris. They were the pumpkin carvers who then took the kids designs and created their own inspirations.

Eventually, the kids and parents all finished the pumpkins and the end result was three spooky pumpkins to place on our porch tonight.

I am sorry to be a pumpkin Scrooge. The kids loved the look of their pumpkins and the candle glow emanating from them. It just seems a lot of work for a small result. Bah-Boo-- Humbug.

A mummy, a race, and a line

My parents arrived late Tuesday night for a visit with our family. Area schools are out for two days this week for a teacher convention, so mom and dad came to help. I greeted them at 9pm on Tuesday evening with the busy schedule awaiting them for Wednesday.

A mummy. ..

Mom's job on Wednesday was to take Evan to his preschool Halloween party. They arrived at his school in time to begin the daunting task of wrapping all the preschoolers in toilet paper so that they could be mummies for their costumes.

Once the mummies were wrapped, the teachers and grandma led the kids on a trick or treat parade to the local businesses.

They finished their morning with a smorgasbord of food at Evan's preschool for their Halloween party.

The race. . .


Dad didn't get to sit and just rest, however. I put him to work as well. Dad had to go and watch the annual Pumpkin Run at Eagle Point where each grade races laps around the outside of the boys school to crown a Pumpkin Race winner.


I sent dad with a video camera, but I have no idea how to load footage, so use your imagination.


Andrew ended up in 3rd place out of all the 3rd grade boys. Brendan won 2nd place! They were thrilled and awarded pint-sized pumpkins as a rewards.


The line. . .


Every Halloween that we have lived here, the student organizations at our local high school host a Trick or Treat night at the school. This year they did it before actual Halloween. So, we ate our dinner last evening, and after a long tantrum-producing argument with Evan, we journeyed to the high school. We were greeted with a gargantuan line.

When I took this picture, we had already waited for about 20 minutes in the line and still had at least 10-15 left to wait.

When you get in the school, each organization takes a classroom and decorates it however they please, then the kids can go from door to door trick or treating. The really spooky classrooms would elicit statements like "This is awesome" from the intrepid four year old of our group. The older boys were not as brave.

After they weave through the trick or treat stations, they had the option of braving a Haunted House. Neither Andrew nor Brendan would even contemplate the notion; however, Evan was thrilled. Nonetheless, as he got ready to enter, his nerves best him and he also left the line.

More Halloween fun awaits this week. . .

Meet Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Meet Dr. Jekyll. . .

Look at this sad little face. This past weekend Evan had many "Jekyll" moments where he was out of control. If you look closely at this picture, you can see the tear on his face from his most recent meltdown.

He had meltdowns about everything: having to change his clothes, getting an Eagles shirt instead of a Steelers shirt from dad (He now won't take off the Eagles shirt!), or just because he wanted to cry. Trying to rationalize with him was impossible and utterly pointless.

You can also see from this picture his lovely outfit. He has his Badgers sweatshirt with his new Eagles T-shirt under that comes to his knees. Under the shirt are his Browns football pants. This is what he wore outside in the 40 degree weather to play football despite his mother's pleadings to do otherwise.

Jekyll would slam himself on the floor, screaming and kicking in hopes that we would cave in. (We never do. . . )

Meet Mr. Hyde:

Evan had so many purely priceless moments as well this weekend. When he wants to turn on the charm, he exceeds all expectations.

Here he was playing with this precious pumpkin present that he received from his Aunt Tif a few years ago. He was so thrilled to get his picture taken with it. Doesn't he look so sweet?

Evan loves to cuddle and sit in my lap. He never wants to feel like he isn't getting equal time to the other boys. He will look at me with those beautiful brown eyes in such a way that I am nearly brought to tears.

He challenges me in ways my other boys never did at this age. The constant battle between his ups and downs proves challenging on a daily basis. One thing never wavers, however: how very much I love this little man.

My fantasy obssession

In high school my idea of being athletic involved performing the perfect cheer or keeping my hair perfect while running the mile in track. I wasn't a much better spectator. I remember enduring hours of PGA golf viewing compliments of my dad and brothers as well as any Cleveland sports activities.

When I had three boys, I knew that my perspective on sports would probably change. Yet, I was surprised this year to have it changed from something unexpected: Fantasy Football.

My friend Corina, who I teach with, was asked to participate in the school's Fantasy Football league; she responded that she would only do it with a partner. That became me.

When she and I sat at the FF League draft before school started, I was amused at how serious the other "team owners" were. We all silently consulted our notes to decide who would be the next pick. Sometimes adulation was awarded to a team who made a solid pick; sometimes heckling ensued. Nonetheless, we left that day with what we believed was a decent team.

In the past eight weeks, however, I have transformed from a passive sports viewer into a legitimate sports fan, cheering my players and censuring the non-performers. Corina and I have the most intense conversations deliberating on whether someone's head injury makes them ineligible for the game. We know which teams have a strong running game, and we know which defenses won't let our guys score. We fanatically add and delete players from our list in the hopes of winning a game.

On Sunday I am constantly checking my box score to see how my players are performing. (For today we are winning, but our competitor still has a player tomorrow.)

So far, we are 4-3 in the league, placing us in 4th place out of 10. Not bad for the newbies, but not good enough for our standards. We are constantly striving to be the best, allowing our competitive nature to get the best of us.

Fantasy Football is so much more than a game for us. It has become my hobby and an opportunity to have fun with one of my dearest friends.

It's all in the numbers. ..

Numbers have been on my mind a lot lately. And, as an English teacher, numbers are truly not my forte. Nonetheless, my life seems to be all about the numbers.

It is usually at this point in the school year where my life gets crazy. Papers are piling up, grades are due soon, and students are impatient. Why can't I keep up? Let's look at the numbers.

68 -- the number of students I have in my junior/senior writing class
2- the number of writing assignments they turn in per week on average
10- the average amount of time it takes me to grade ONE of the student's papers

Quick math--

1,400 -- the approximate amount of minutes it would take me to grade all of this work per week

Supposing a person is awake ten hours a day, it would take me about 2 and a half days uninterrupted a week to grade all of this.

But, I'm not done.

49-- the number of freshman in my two E9 classes
1-- the number of writing assignments they turn in on average a week
10-- the time it takes to grade one assignment

Quick math--

500- The approximate minutes it takes to grade their work as well.

These classes add another day to my grading load.

With all of this, I still need to find time to be a mom, wife, PTO president, church committee member, reunion committee member, and much more.

I am exhausted.

You might suggest that an easy solution that would please the students as well would be to assign less work. However, that doesn't work for me. I believe in making students work hard. I believe that unless they are pushed, some students never know how much they can truly achieve. I believe that work ethic offers a student much more than an A or B in class.

So, with that, the numbers don't lie. I am a workhorse from now until June.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Really? Girls already?

In kindergarten a little boy named Patrick kissed me on the cheek. I was totally grossed out. I remember him chasing me on the playground, and I was in flight, working to get away from the "boy cooties."

What is it about boys and girls that make us so repelled and attracted to each other at the same time?

Having three boys, I knew the day would come where the conversation of gender would come into play. I just didn't know it would be so soon.

Brendan has been hinting that some girls at school have told him they had a crush on him. We asked what he thought that meant, and he said that the girls want to be his girl friend. Woah! Girlfriend? Not in second grade. . .

Then, yesterday he came home and told me I couldn't answer the doorbell if someone rang it. Puzzled, I inquired, "Why?" He said that one of his friends dared this little girl down the road to ring the doorbell and give him a hug. He was totally freaked out. He kept looking out the window to make sure she wasn't coming. (Of course, this was one of the little girls that said she had a crush on him.) How long until his friends are daring them to do worse things? YIKES!

Furthermore, at the same dinner Andrew told us he had a terrible day at school. Almost afraid of the answer, I asked, "Why?" He was reticent at first, but then confessed that he had to dance with a girl during music. We tried to make light of it by explaining that learning to dance with a girl is a nice thing. He wasn't buying it. Luckily, I think girls still gross him out. We still have a little while longer.

I am sure that if I read this same message in 5-6 years, I would laugh at the simplicity of our current girl problems. But for now, I am still reeling. Girls?? Already??

Ev's Bunk beds

It seems that a requirement of being young is having bunk beds at some point. I know that I had a hand-me-down set from my older cousin Sher that I shared with my sister. I remember jumping onto her bed every morning as a friendly wake up call on my way to the shower.

This week we decided that it was time the Doucette household fulfilled our bunk bed requirement. Evan had long ago outgrown his tiny toddler bed, yet his parents hadn't taken the initiative to give him a cozier sleeping quarter. With some quick shopping on Craig's List, we came upon the perfect set for our house.

Chris worked hard all day today rebuilding the set in our home. The boys have quickly adapted by making the beds their new fort.
Evan and Brendan were playing spies on the top bunk.

Evan is showing off the bottom bunk. We were blessed to have friends give us both of these Spiderman comforters. Evan is thrilled! (Ignore his outfit- I have no idea who dresses him everyday!)

We have a little hesitation about Evan climbing the ladder. He insists he will sleep up top. We are just worried about the sleepy 2am potty break. Stay tuned for future blogs. . .

For now, we will see how Evan adjusts. As you can clearly see from this picture, Evan is thrilled to be a real "big boy" now.

Friday Photo Fiesta: Change of scenery

I am feeling a bit nostalgic this week. The "honeymoon" period is over at school. The kids are restless. The teachers are buried in work.

So, I have been thinking about our summer vacation and reminiscing a little. We have also been remembering the Tetons because they just got buried in snow this week. Yes, October! And it's buried. We looked at live footage and just laughed at the amounts of snow present.

Here are my pictures from summer that I am looking to for some nostalgic comfort!

Haircut

Last night I got my haircut. I only oblige myself about two times a year to do it, so when I do it, I do it right.

Sitting in the chair getting my hair washed, I was almost falling asleep. My stylist massaged my scalp for about ten minutes, and for just that time, I was completely at peace. I didn't think about whose homework I needed to check, I didn't think about packing lunches, and I didn't think about the mess that I now call my house. I just whimpered and cooed at the bliss of pampering for ME!

When I walked in the house last night, I did not receive overwhelming approval of my new cut. Chris responded with, "Well, I can tell you got it cut." Brendan told me I cut it too short, and the other two just looked at me quizzically. As for me, I can't decide yet. I think I will like it in a few weeks growth time.

Here I am sporting me new do! Andrew took a picture this morning. Sorry for the silly look on my face. Andrew wasn't giving much warning!

Let it all out

Grin, smile, chuckle, snicker, giggle, laugh, roar. All of these words embody a positive exhibit of emotion, yet they all denote a slightly different meaning.

On a daily basis, I will grin. I grin at my kids when they catch a pass playing football in the yard. I grin at a neighbor walking by my house.

I smile. I smile at everyone. I believe putting a smile on your face makes not only you feel better, but it also makes others around you feel better as well. So, I smile at everyone who is in my presence.

I chuckle. I chuckle a lot. A chuckle is that slight laugh that you give when a television show tells a humorous story. I chuckle at Evan when he pretends to shoot the birds with his hands on the way home. I chuckle at myself when I trip walking up the stairs.

I giggle. My giggle permeates a room when I am feeling silly. I remembering giggling with my college friend Heidi so much that we would have stomach pains the next day from overuse our muscles!

And, I laugh! I have one of those laughs that is not soft and demure. My laugh is one of those that seems to be born of a vocal lesson where the teacher tells you to "sing from your stomach." Well, I laugh from my stomach. When I truly laugh at something, I feel amazingly better. I laugh at a funny sentence created in a grammar lesson. I laugh at a student teaching me a new slang term. I laugh at myself when I burn dinner.

In the last twenty four hours, I have been giddily laughing. I am not sure why. It began when last evening after a day of school, a two hour department meeting, and four hours of parent teacher conferences. I was exhausted and had been in the school building for over 12 hours. A colleague came into the room at the end of the evening to chat, and we found ourselves laughing. Not a giggle, not a chuckle, but a tear-producing, red-faced, couldn't-stop-if-wanted-to laugh. We laughed about a student's choice of words, we laughed about the heat of the room I was in, we laughed about nothing.

Well, that exhilaration from my laugh-fest carried into today. Over the course of the day, I felt myself quick to giggle slightly at the smallest incident. Then, during my third hour class, I just lost it. Honestly, I can not recall what set me off, but I just laughed. Uncontrollably. My shoulders were shaking; I was trying to stop. Each time I gained composure, I would try to talk about commas and think how funny that seemed to me, and I would just bust out laughing. It got to the point where I was actually beginning to be embarrassed. I am a professional, and I just couldn't stop!

I am not sure why my giddiness has emerged temporarily, but my spirit has been the recipient of a cathartic lift from my laughing. My cheeks honestly hurt from the amount of smiling I have done in the last day. Maybe you should give it a try.