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.