Krinkeland

All the Standard Daddy Tricks

2012-01-29T21:41:00.002-06:00

Madeline was pestering her siblings this evening, and Todd wanted to console-- and distract-- her. "Come here, Maddy," he soothed. "Do you want to play with me?" The two-year-old bounded after Daddy in the living room, where they played "steamroller" from wall to wall, back and forth, again and again, amidst peals of laughter, until they were both too dizzy to continue.

Then, Todd and Maddy jumped up, he picked up my baby and began tossing her in the air and catching her. Again, this continued, through giggles and gasps, until I was sure Daddy's arms would come out of their sockets.

After setting Maddy down and both of them catching their breath, Todd held Madeline's little hands in his and told his daughter, "Step on my feet, now, and we'll dance." Dance they did.

I heard Todd say to his daughter, "Stick with me, kiddo. I know all the good ol' Daddy Games." What did you play with your Daddy? Bet you still remember:

*"scissors"
*walking up the legs and flipping
*hog pile
*"PIG" at the basketball hoop
*block towers
*the license plate game
*the alphabet game
*"I'm Thinking of Something"

The Path to Healing

2012-01-26T11:36:00.003-06:00

I am sitting at Abbott Northwestern Hospital with my MIL, my SIL and my FIL's sister, as Harlan undergoes a complex but oh-so-necessary cancer surgery called an esophagectomy. Please pray for things to go well, for healing, and for peace of mind for all. There will be updates here.

What's in a (Food) Name?

2012-01-25T14:20:00.002-06:00

I call my kids nicknames that are food words ALL THE TIME.

Sugar
Sweets
Peaches
Honey
Peanut
Peanut Butter
Cookie
Jelly Bean
Muffin
Puddin'
Chocolate Chip
Marshmallow
Noodle
Meatball

Do you think that's weird? Am I food-obsessed? I know it's not that unusual; my nephews have dubbed their baby brother "Cupcake." (His given name is Elias Jon Francis.)

I even think it's really cute when people give food names to their pets. I have one friend whose family dog is "Olive." The little ones in another family dubbed their beta fish "Cashew." Isn't that way sweeter than naming your dog after a conservative former president? (I can't imagine who would do that, by the way.)

What does this food name thing say about me? I'm going to get a snack and continue ruminating on the issue.

One Singular Sensation

2012-01-24T22:45:00.003-06:00

My brilliant goddaughter Lucia Marie is ONE YEAR OLD TODAY!

It seems just a moment ago she came into the world and into our lives. Lucia is smart, strong, sassy, and, of course, so beautiful. She walks, but only where she wants to go. She gives kisses, but only when she feels like it. She talks, but in a way only she can understand. Lucia has blessed all of our lives in countless ways, but most of all in the way she made parents of my brother and sister-in-law.

Happy, happy birthday, Baby Shushee! God loves you, and Auntie does, too.

Ben, Unplugged and Unclothed

2012-01-23T20:44:00.003-06:00

I don't know what's sicker-- the fact that my five-year-old knows these songs, or the fact that I videotaped him:

What I Learned at Walt Disney World

2012-01-22T22:08:00.003-06:00

We have returned from our trip, whole and happy and mostly healthy. Taking the four kids to Walt Disney World in Florida was a big deal, it was a REALLY big deal for me. Even though I am crazy-busy and always have way too much going on, one of my main missions in life has been to minimize mess and minimize mayhem. For example, if the kids want to play with Play-Doh, I will tend to think, "Man, then they'll get Play-Doh crumbs on the floor... and their hands will smell like Play-Doh... and I won't be able to set the table... and they'll want me to play with them..." instead of just letting the kids have a ball with the darn Play-Doh.

Going to Disney World is a much bigger deal than rolling out dough.

Todd began talking about taking the kids on the "trip of a lifetime" shortly after Madeline's birth. It has taken him a good two years of lobbying to talk me into it. Don't get me wrong-- I've always been thrilled he was willing to spend the money and able to take the time and excited to do the planning for such an adventure. But, all I could think was:

"How could I possibly pack for that many people for that long a time?"
"What if the kids behave badly on the airplane?"
"What if they don't sleep?"
"What if someone gets sick?"
"What if the little ones can't keep up with the big ones?"
"What will I do if the kids whine? Beg? Pout?"
"How will the older ones handle missing school?"
"How can we fit it all in?"

Much of what I worried about-- actually happened:
*Madeline and I got a scolding by the four-year-old sitting in front of her on the airplane. "Your baby kicked my seat all the way to Florida."
*I often awoke during the night to Benjamin's barefoot steps padding around the resort suite.
*Madeline ran a fever one night.
*We went through all the sunscreen.
*Some of the kids ran out of clean shorts... or socks... or underwear.
*Using every coupon, discount and shortcut we could, we still spent a lot of money. A LOT.
*The zippers broke on two carry-on bags, causing multiple re-packings.
*We had so few sit-down meals that, at the character breakfast on our final morning, Amanda sighed over her Mickey-faced waffles, "Finally, real food."
*It rained.

Through it all, I survived. And we had the time of our lives. When the week was up, no one was ready to go home.

At the resort where we stayed, there was a huge technology conference. Every time we stepped out of the elevator, we were surrounded by tablet-toting suits. One day, walking through the lobby on the way to some fantastic destination, Todd grabbed my hand, and softly said, "You know, when I'm traveling like that for work, I see families on vacation and I always think, 'I wish that was us.' Now it is."

The following photos offer just a glimpse into our adventures. Just click on the link and then click "slideshow" at the top to scroll through. These are not all the photos... but they will hopefully give you an idea of the fun we had.

Status Report

2012-01-15T16:16:00.001-06:00

I am not really planning to blog on this trip, as we are spending every moment together, making memories. However, right now, I am sitting on the hotel balcony while the little ones nap; Todd and the big ones are probably on Space Mountain for the umpteenth time. I caught a few zzzzs myself and now am practicing being still.

The trip here went smoothly, but was long and draining. We are staying on-property, at The Contemporary Resort, right now; tomorrow we move to The Dolphin/Swan resorts for more space and quieter accommodations.

I have been so surprised by the children and their reactions to being at Walt Disney World. We videotaped them getting the news at the airport, but there wasn't much but stunned silence. Amanda and Elisabeth truly did not believe us.

During one cute 3-D movie at Magic Kingdom, Libby said over and over again, "This is awesome!" I got really emotional when the kids met Mickey and Minnie-- just feeling so fortunate that we are able to do this, that everyone is healthy, that we are incredibly blessed.

In quiet moments, I am posting little updates on Facebook. Check there, friends, and pray the magic continues for all of us.

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The Day Has Arrived

2012-01-14T12:35:00.002-06:00

In the early years of our marriage, Todd and I, along with another beloved couple, took a trip to central Florida. We had a grand time. The vacation included all the usual headliner stops: the Walt Disney World theme parks, Universal Studios, Kennedy Space Center, Cocoa Beach-- perfect destinations for us, as we were really just big kids ourselves. One evening, (probably after one too many drinks at Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville,) we got into an interesting discussion, each of us picking up where the other left off, that went basically like this:

"Some day, IF we ever have kids, we have to bring them here. But we have to do it right. Yeah, we should come at this exact time of year. Yeah, January is not hot, and there are no lines. Right-- and the kids have to be the right ages, old enough to be able to do everything, but young enough that it still feels magical to them. Yeah, like 7 and 10. We'll bring our kids here when they are 7 and 10. And we won't tell them where we're going. Yeah, we'll just pack them into the car and drive all night and they won't even know where we're going until we pull up to the gates of Walt Disney World. Yep, that's the way to do it... IF we ever have kids."

So, that's what we're doing.

Today.

And the kids do not know.

We can't totally follow the plan-- we have too many children for that. But, most of them are in the "right" age range. Keeping the secret during our voyage probably will not work, since we are flying. But, I bet we can make it to the airport.

Please pray for healthy, safe travels for us, and peace of mind for me.

The Lost Art of Speaking Politely

2012-01-11T13:51:00.003-06:00

If you know me, and you know what a steamroller of a human being I can be, it may surprise you to know one of my hot-button issues is manners. Being polite. Speaking well. Really, it should not surprise you-- being assertive is NOT contradictory to being polite. In fact, the two characteristics, when used properly, work brilliantly together.

Before Christmas, at a cute, little shop in my town, I found this book: "How to Speak Politely and Why" by Munro Leaf. It was reprinted in the last five years, after being originally published in 1934 under the title "Grammar Can Be Fun." When I saw the book, I had to buy it.

It became one of Benjamin's Christmas gifts-- he, the only boy in Krinkeland, is most in need of tips on manners and politeness. Ben wants nothing to do with the book. But, Ben could learn something from the characters in the book, such as THE WOBBLY NECKS, UH-HUH and UN-UN:

"Poor Wobbly Necks! They shake their heads and hod their heads and still no one knows what they want to say. Some one says, 'Would you like to go?' and they shout UH-HUH and UN-UN then Wiggle and Wiggle and Wiggle. But no one knows what they mean. While-- YES and NO are always happy. Everybody knows what THEY mean and THEY don't have to wiggle their necks at all."

Madeline, on the other hand, loves the book, and brings it to me to read all the time. Unfortunately, she and her lack of manners are not yet ready for the tips in the book. At the two-year-old stage, I would be thrilled if she would simply stop screaming and use a Kleenex instead of a sleeve. At the very least, it would be nice if she would use her own sleeve.

Appalling

2012-01-10T21:24:00.003-06:00

I was sick to my stomach when I saw this photo, taken by a friend who works in this building, the church where all of my children have attended preschool.

Is this really our small town? Is it really the 21st century? Do you sick punks even know the meaning behind this vulgar graffiti? Do you have any idea what it will take to remove your damage? Do you really think you could possibly negatively impact the lives of the good women and men who work here and who worship here?

Shame. On. You.

Seeking Answers

2012-01-10T18:49:00.003-06:00

Here are some of the questions I've been contemplating of late:

*How many Crock Pot recipes can I devise, revise, and revive between now and opening night of the musical?
*Did I break the car wash at the new Holiday, or was it just a coincidence?
*If a two-and-a-half-year-old doesn't speak as well or as much as her siblings did at the same age, is that necessarily a bad thing?
*Could I schedule just one or two more things this month-- just to guarantee I never have time to urinate again?
*Why do some kids bite? Why don't other kids bite?
*If I hold my breath until I pass out, will I still have to finish folding the laundry?
*Why do so many grown-ups behave like middle schoolers?
*Out of all the states in the union, why choose Wisconsin for a state report?
*Why are men such babies when they're sick? Why do they continue to act like babies, even if no one babies them?
*What does it mean for my future if already a five-year-old has to teach me how to operate an iPod?
*Can a sinus infection be a permanent condition?
*Is it really so bad to lie to your kids?
*Who has time to document every moment of existence on Facebook, and why do those people think the rest of us care?
*Does Rick on "Pawn Stars" really know all that random trivia, or is it fed to him by a show producer?
*What if I had stayed a show producer instead of becoming a mother?
*Why Walgreen's?

My Fate is Cast

2012-01-05T23:15:00.003-06:00

The extracurricular theater group of which I, Todd and my MIL are all a part, has just announced the cast of this year's production, "Disney's Beauty and the Beast Junior." We had 105 students in grades K-8 audition, so it's going to be one, big show. Right now, I need one, big Excedrin.

Bye-bye, clean house. Bye-bye, home-cooked meals. Bye-bye, People Magazine. See you in the spring.

Plays and Politics

2012-01-03T21:10:00.003-06:00

Not only was today the first round of auditions for Saints on Stage's "Disney's Beauty and the Beast Junior," but this evening is also Iowa's Republican presidential caucuses. I don't think the excitement level in this house could get much higher. Sad, but true.

Weird Winter

2012-01-02T21:30:00.003-06:00

I stepped out of the car this morning and thought, "Whoa! This is what winter feels like. I had almost forgotten." The overnight wind blew in frosty air... something I would normally be used to and sick of by JANUARY. But, so far, this fall and winter have been so balmy that it gave me a start.

Now, I am not complaining. I hate winter. I detest cold... and ice... and snow... and gusty winds. I go crazy over icy, muddy tracks and footprints and layers of clothing and bundling kids to go outside against fear of frostbite. It really makes no sense why I live in the Upper Midwest. But I do love the summers here.

Still, the weirdest thing about the weather this time around is that our lake is not yet frozen. To look out the window, through the bare tree branches, and see open water is just bizarre. Even more bizarre, when we drove around the lake yesterday, we saw people walking on the ice. Just yards from open water, there they were, a pack of five or six people, including two little kids, on the wet, gray, thin ice. Bizarre-- and stupid.

On the Wall

2011-12-31T14:20:00.002-06:00

In the house I grew up in, my bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hall. Along the wall of that hallway hung the framed school photos of me and my siblings. As my friends would walk to my room, or any visitor would head to the guest bathroom, many would stop and look at those photos.

I know our home was not the only one with such a feature. One of my high school friends had the same thing-- only magnified. The entire wall opposite the guest bath was lined with family photos, portraits, snapshots. My friend was the baby of the family, and the only one living there when we hung out. I loved to stand at that wall, and look at the photos of older siblings-- glimpses of the past. Many of the shots were funny, and I could imagine being part of those scenes.

We, too, in this house, have a long upstairs hallway leading to the kids' bedrooms. My husband is a fan of white, nail-hole-free walls... so the hall has remained barren these past five years. I've been thinking for a while, though, about at least hanging the kids' school photos in a line along the wall. Then, I made this collage of family shots our friend Kailee took this fall. I got another sign when my SIL gave Todd and I framed cariciatures of Amanda and Elisabeth for Christmas.

So, while Todd took the three older kids skiing and while Madeline napped, I enlisted my Friendly Neighborhood Handy Man (dad) to start the Krinkeland Family Wall. Some of the frames are from the last home's decor, but I wasn't about to go out and buy new... and I'm not yet daring or talented enough to just paint them. Still, I think the sheen is overshadowed by these, some of my favorite images of the kids.

Now, when our children have friends over, they will stop and look on the way to their rooms. The kids have already been grinning and giggling at themselves. Everyone loves the wall. Well, Amanda did comment, "I don't know... It kind of makes this hallway feel closed-in." But, what else would you expect from that one?

The Slow-Moving Bug

2011-12-27T20:29:00.002-06:00

We've had this stomach virus making its way through Krinkeland for going on ten days now... and it still hasn't claimed all the possible victims. Someone gets sick like every third or fourth day. Just when I think we're in the clear and I can remove my face mask-- another one bites the dust.

Now, getting a stomach bug and being ill during the holidays is bad enough. But, when I hold the requisite 24-hour quarantine and then turn my kids loose on the world-- only to have another of them get sick 48 or 72 hours later... now that's just cruel. It's even worse that we went four days between the last two victims-- so we clearly got to enjoy Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with family. But, we may have unknowingly bestowed upon them the gift that keeps on giving.

Can we just be done already? Even following all the "rules," we've probably infected half the Western Hemisphere. The family schedule and previous commitments state we will be out in the general population again tomorrow. I give up.

The Day Changes

2011-12-26T23:08:00.009-06:00

Days take turns, don't they?

The day after Christmas is traditionally a favorite one for me-- dedicated to sleeping in, tearing into all the new toys, hunting for screwdrivers and batteries, and catching up on laundry. We've already seen and celebrated with most. There's nothing on the calendar, nowhere to go.

All that was true about today, too... but, then, there were twists.

First, the sweater Todd bought me for Christmas was too big, and the store where he purchased it would only hold a smaller one for two days. As much as I enjoy shopping, nothing is less appealing than heading out with the returns crowd on the day after Christmas. I tried to get Todd to just go by himself and make the swap, but he thought it would be more "fun" if we all went.

Before we could formulate a plan and get everyone ready to go, my dear friend sent me a text message saying she was in the area, and asking if we could meet for lunch. We could. And we did.

Lunch got a little long... shopping got a lot longer... When I was fed up and tired of chasing kids, we all went to the car. I was trolling the news headlines on my phone when I read "2 Mayo Clinic Workers Die in Fla. Helicopter Crash."

One of the victims was a friend and former colleague of Todd's. Luis was a heart surgeon, with whom Todd had worked developing cardiac devices, before going to work in cardiac surgery at Mayo. He was flying as part of a transplant team. Our thoughts go out to Luis' wife Tracy and their two young children.

Please pray for them.

Christmas Countdown

2011-12-23T20:38:00.003-06:00

The holiday season is flying by at breakneck speed. I cannot believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I should know it, however, because all the telltale signals of the frenetic pace are starting to show and to wear on me. Here are my signs the Christmas season is at its peak:

*got super-excited about snowflakes flying, until I had to drive through them
*bought a (new) Christmas gift on Craig's List and did not get murdered in the exchange
*forgot where I parked-- twice
*argued with the Toys R Us clerk about the definition of the word "sale"
*argued with the Kohl's clerk about the order in which she scanned my discount cards
*got caught in a cart whirlpool in the Costco cooler section and had to keep circling the strawberries until and eddy (I think his name was Eddie?) yanked me out to the bakery area
*flirted with the Costco clerk to get him to pack everything back in my cart before the frozen juice melted into a puddle
*told busy-bee kids, "You can't make up for all your grievances against Santa in one day!"
*drove around town delivering cookies here and brandy slush there (hope I didn't mix those up...) something I'd been meaning to do all month
*forgot to feed my kids lunch, but was then thrilled when they ate a huge, early supper
*didn't even have the energy to explain a sardonic nine-year-old's sense of humor to the elderly couple in Culver's who heard Amanda say she wished one of Santa's elves would die
*did all the laundry, all the cooking, all the cleaning while my husband "shopped" for eight hours and then called asking, "What do you want for Christmas, anyway?"
*abandoned the gift wrapping to drive around and look at Christmas lights, and allowed myself to be thrilled as the kids were

Our Little Naked Mole Rat

2011-12-23T20:26:00.003-06:00

A couple months ago, I sent in Benjamin's preschool book order form with a request for this book: "Naked Mole Rat Gets Dressed" by Mo Willems. I placed the order with the fleeting notion that the book may actually be about some perpetually naked thing deciding to finally put on clothes. Plus, we have other books by this children's author, and they are hilarious.

When the order came in, I got one of those raised-eyebrows looks from Ben's preschool teacher, but then she said, "You know, when that book came in and I read the title, I just had to read it. So, I did. It's very funny." I just smiled and said, "Oh, good." I really didn't want to explain.

You see, my son is, by nature, a naked mole rat. He never wears clothes... and, chances are, he never will, because I waffle between laying down the law ("Everyone wears clothes!") and just ignoring him. Benjamin does seem to understand the societal rules and does not balk at wearing clothes whenever we leave the house. It's just at home. Every time I turn around he has stripped down to his skivvies and is strutting around like he owns the place.

I know modesty is the best policy. Plus, really, nobody looks good just hanging out in his drawers. I simply get tired of fighting it. One of these days, Ben's older sisters will have friends over and someone will go, "Ewwww" or point and giggle, and maybe, just maybe, that will be the end of that.

Or so I hope-- because the book did not do the trick. Even better than anticipated, "Naked Mole Rat Gets Dressed" is about one creature who, though naturally naked, chooses to wear clothes... and convinces others of his species to do the same. Ben loves the book, as do the girls. But, he has not heeded the message, and, instead, has now earned himself the nickname "Naked Mole Rat."

Funnyk Wayp of Talkingz

2011-12-22T19:15:00.002-06:00

Now that Madeline speaks-- with enunciation, pronounciation and patterns that most people understand-- I'm enjoying our conversations (on the rare occasions they are screech-free.) But, it's interesting... while I know all two-year-olds have amusing varieties in the ways they talk, I don't think any of the other children had this funny habit: Madeline adds extra consonants to the ends of words.

Instead of saying, "OK," it comes out like, "Ot-Kayp." Maddy will make "snack" past tense, "I wan' a 'nackd." And she pluralizes her hair bow as "prettys." She is just so clear and deliberate about it. I don't get it, but it makes me giggle every time.

Still, Madeline doesn't use this speech pattern all the time. In some instances she still leaves off the ends of words; she always calls her brother, "Beh" or "Buh."

Oh, and this doesn't fit into either speech pattern, but I want to remember it forever: She calls older sister Elisabeth, nicknamed Libby, "Widdy." Guess little kids mix up the "b" and "d" even before they can write.

No Rest for the Weary

2011-12-18T22:10:00.003-06:00

There has been a shortage of sleep in Krinkeland. We are really dragging. I think it is mostly due to the craziness of the holiday season; it seems there has been something going on every hour of every day. The rest of it... I'm not sure how to explain.

Madeline has been the worst, often waking two, three or even four times a night. I don't know if it's because: (a) we're trying to wean her off the Nuk; (b) she has a bit of a cold; (c) she's spoiled rotten... or all three! Maddy will stand in the gated doorway of her bedroom and yell, "Mommy!" over and over and over. When I come, sometimes she asks for a drink. Other times she begs for a Nuk. Often, she just demands, "Tucky in me!" Whatever she asks, I try desperately to fill the need so Maddy will settle down and go back to sleep-- and let me go back to sleep.

To be fair, Daddy has been home for a couple weeks now, and has definitely been trading off turns getting up with the toddler. But, there are two main differences between Todd and me: (1) I wake up, even when he gets up with Madeline; and (2) upon returning to bed, he immediately falls back into a deep slumber and SNORES. Therefore, I am getting considerably less sleep than he is (not that anyone is keeping track.)

Now, I fully realize I have posted previously about the lack of sleep in motherhood. I know this is not a unique reality, and I know it is unlikely to change any time soon. So, maybe I am just whining. But, also, I can't seem to blog about anything else today, because my sleep-deprived brain is not functioning properly.

I am not exaggerating-- I don't think we've slept for more than two hours in a row all week. It's like having a newborn in the house. I guess we will just be more conditioned for when number five comes along. THAT IS A JOKE.

What I Learned at the Holiday Party

2011-12-17T14:31:00.005-06:00

10. Even though there were no non-Christians present, to my knowledge, the boss still insisted on saying, "Happy Holidays!"
9. There's no stopping the shop talk.
8. My husband's coworkers are also well versed in his odd compulsions and obsessions.
7. While most people stereotype engineers as an absent-minded-overly-analytical-plaid-shirt-and-khaki-wearing lot, there must also be similarities in their mate choices: I was one of three wives in a black, cowel-necked, sweater dress.
6. Other families are also strained by the excessive work-related travel, but I must be the most vocal objector, as the boss singled me out for an apology in his annual speech.
5. Red Bull and vodka makes everything more fun.
4. We are not as young as we used to be-- none of us.
3. Even super-comfortable shoes get pinchy after seven or eight hours.
2. Todd always has to be the last to leave the party.
1. I need to be more careful of what I write; some of the guys occasionally peruse Krinkeland.

Radio What?!

2011-12-15T13:48:00.006-06:00

My new car has that satellite radio. It is not something I would be willing to pay for, but I am happy to tune in to the free trial. It really is kind of a nice thing. I have my preset buttons programmed to: Christmas songs, '80s music, '90s music, Broadway, and the Catholic channel.

I saved the last button for my passengers, who, incidentally, no longer have a built-in DVD player for entertainment. I figured Radio Disney, which is categorized under "Family," would be a safe bet. WRONG.

While driving from one destination to the next, I turned on Radio Disney, and heard screaming tweens vying for tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. Seemed par for the course. When the music programming started up again, I nearly drove off the road. The song's first line was, "Let's get it on!" On Radio Disney. Nice.

I turned off the radio, and the girls complained. Fortunately, we were at our destination, so there was no further discussion. By the time we all returned to the car later, I didn't even think before turning on the radio. It was still tuned to Radio Disney, and I did not recognize the tune. The car has a screen in front, with a digital display of what's on the radio. It told me this song was being performed by Lady Gaga. Really? On the "family" channel Radio Disney? What ever happened to "M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-U-S-E?"

A Maddy's-Eye View of the Manger Scene

2011-12-14T21:30:00.005-06:00

Madeline likes to carry around this little baby Jesus from one of our nativity sets. This evening, as she was putting Jesus back to bed, she pointed out everyone else in the scene:

"Baby Jesus." (Points to Joseph.) "He Daddy." (Points to Mary.) "Dat Mama." (Points to the Little Drummer Boy.) "BRUDDER."

Of course, Maddy would think the boy standing next to the baby's bed, pounding on the drum, was the older brother. Welcome to our world.

Pitchin' the Paci... Someday

2011-12-14T21:17:00.004-06:00

Yesterday was so busy, I felt as though I was being catapulted from one activity to another. Some days are just like that, I guess-- lots of days, this time of year. Anyway, one of the many *fun* activities on the agenda was a visit to the dentist... for all four children... at the same time.

This was Madeline's first visit to our pediatric dentist. When the hygienist called Maddy's name, (whilst Madeline was standing on a kid-sized chair and yelling at "Cars" on the big television on the wall) I offered to pray over both of them. But, the dental assistant assured me they'd be fine-- and they were... not a note of screaming from either of them.

Madeline's teeth are fine. No cavities. Keep brushing. Floss if we want, but not a pressing issue since the girl has gaps the size of Tic-Tacs between her chompers. HOWEVER, the dentist did say, "It's time to get rid of that pacifier."

I had written on the health history form that Madeline has a pacifier when she goes to sleep, and, if not, she sucks her thumb. I neglected to mention that she also has a pacifier in church, in the car, and pretty much any time I get sick of hearing her screech, "My Nukkie!" But, I guess the good doctor read between the lines. He said Madeline's back teeth are starting to trend inward and not line up properly from all that sucking.

The dentist suggested that if we can't go cold turkey, we should at least switch to one of those orthodontic Nuks. I said that's the kind Madeline has. He seemed stumped.

Now, more than an hour past bedtime, I can hear the ongoing dialogue between Maddy (in her room) and Daddy (in his):
Madeline: "Want Nukkie!"
Dad: "There's no more Nukkie."
Madeline: "Yeah, there IS!"

I'm Just Not Sayin'

2011-12-12T22:06:00.002-06:00

I received a gracious thank-you note today from a friend. While never expected, it's always nice when someone offers appreciation for something I've done. The message contained in this note, in particular, however, really hit home. Basically, my friend was thanking me for something I did not do.

The general sentiment was, "I know you probably thought I was nuts for making the choice I did, but you never said so." She took my silence as a show of support. To Big-Mouth Me, that is the ultimate compliment, because I know, the vast majority of the time, I can't seem to keep from saying something, anything, too much everything.

I live a passionate life and I have opinions about everything. While I understand this truth about myself, it does not always serve me well. And it is something I work on.

Unfortunately, when you've been on the planet as long as I have and you know as many people as I do, change can be jarring. If I sit at a coffee party with friends, just listening to what they have to say, nodding and smiling, eventually someone asks me what is wrong with me. They're just used to me giving two cents on every topic.

So, it shot me in the heart when I read my friends note thanking me for not saying anything. The truth of the matter is I DID and I DO support her. That's also what friendship is. I had never actually made a conscious decision to say nothing; however, I had observed her getting lots of unsolicited input from others. But, if she takes my lack of words as a positive sign, I guess I'll have to keep my mouth shut more often.

Heaven knows, I seem to find myself in a heap of trouble every time I open it.

Making a List... Checking It Twice...

2011-12-11T21:38:00.002-06:00

We set out to get some Christmas shopping done.

We ended up fighting the weekend Costco crowds just to print some photos Benjamin needs for preschool tomorrow.

Then, we stopped by a swim suit shop, and took an hour trying to find a proper racing suit for Amanda. (The chlorine has already rotted out the butts of the two she owns.)

Then, we spent another 45 minutes waiting to get waited on in the cross-country ski shop. It seems to my weakened and dim mind that we spent much of last winter shopping for cross-country skis that never materialized. I'm not sure why that is, but I do know no one in Krinkeland is any worse off because of it.

Neither photos nor racing suits nor skis are on anyone's Christmas list. I will attempt shopping again next weekend-- without my husband.

Elves on Shelves

2011-12-09T21:52:00.004-06:00

Do you know about this Elf on the Shelf? I see from my online research he has been around for a while, but it is something kind of new to our scene. A couple of Amanda's classmates had them last Christmas season, and they apparently went on and on about how fun it was to have your own, little, magic elf in the house. A family with whom we are good friends got one at the end of last season, and that was it. Once the Christmas decorations came out this year, it's all I heard about-- Elf on the Shelf! Elf on the Shelf! When can we get an Elf on the Shelf? I'm asking Santa for an Elf on the Shelf!

Well, I had no plans to EVER buy an Elf on the Shelf, certainly not so close to Christmas... And, I guess I wasn't the only one who got tired of hearing about it. Grandma R. sent our way a couple of elfin dolls. The Norwegian call them nisses; the Danish say Tomtes-- same thing. These dolls carry old legends, but work similarly to the Elf on the Shelf. (You can read the Scandinavian history here.)

The elf is supposed to play with you, be a secret friend, perform magic and report back to Santa Claus at the North Pole on your good behavior leading up to Christmas. The tomte/nisse is a protector of the house, looking out and keeping things safe... and only causing mischief if s/he sees you misbehaving or something else is amiss.

Amanda and Elisabeth were very excited about the arrival of the nisse dolls, immediately dubbed them "Will" and "Lisse," and soon afterward started fighting about who was going to bring which for show-and-tell at school. Then, they took the nisse dolls over to their friends' house, so they could meet the elf, "Sam." There, things took a turn, when the kids decided together that Will and Lisse were somehow threatening to Sam, and so the elf would not perform his magic in their presence.

Sometimes, I wish I had the imagination of a child... other times, I just wish I had nothing better to think about than the crazy crap they dream up.

Found!

2011-12-08T20:57:00.002-06:00

I found something this evening that has been missing for more than three months. Of course, if you'd asked me this afternoon, I could have told you I was going to find it tonight. This was undoubtedly true, even though I had no idea where to look for said item, had no hint where it had been seen last; no one had admitted to touching it, no one claimed to have seen it.

HOW did I know I would find it tonight? That's easy-- just this morning, I went out and bought a new one.

Dish Dilemma

2011-12-07T19:08:00.002-06:00

Who among us doesn't do a little Christmas shopping for the self during this festive holiday season? Well, I've been planning a little treat, just for Andrea, but it is proving more difficult than I planned.

We had a few friends over last weekend and I broke out the Christmas china and matching glassware, a first since we moved into this house five years ago. You see, this home does not have a dining room, so we got rid of the hutch. It does have high ceilings, and the kitchen cabinets reach 10 feet. My Christmas dishes sit in the little cupboards at the highest height. So, I never bothered to get them out.

But, last weekend, I did. And I started thinking about how pretty they are. And I kept thinking about how I don't exactly have complete service for 12 yet, nor all the serving pieces. Because these Christmas dishes are expensive. A luxury. Plus, my in-laws used to own a gift shop, which made it mighty convenient-- and way more affordable-- to purchase pieces for my Christmas set. Plus, I got dishes for gifts.

That is all in the past.

There are no shops in my area that sell these dishes, but I know both the pattern and the maker are very traditional and well-established. Yet, even when I went online, I could really find any reputable sellers of my Christmas dishes. What I did find-- shock and horror!-- were all kinds of Internet rumors that the company had declared bankruptcy and these dishes would forevermore be in short supply. I can't verify the claims, because the company's website is only in Norwegian.

The opportunists have already monopolized eBay and Craig's List. But I'm not paying $150 a dish. I guess if I ever have another Christmas dinner party, only eight of you can eat... six can have mixed drinks... four can have wine...

Stairdown

2011-12-06T21:59:00.002-06:00

I wanted to live in a rambler (ranch house, for those not from these parts.)

When Todd and I built our first home-- a classic two-story with all the bedrooms upstairs, a main-floor laundry room, and walkout basement family room-- Me of Little Physical Exertion soon came to despise the stairs. All I did was go up and down the darn things all day long... carrying things up... carrying things down. I thought life would be easier if I could get rid of the stairs.

Then, we decided to move to the lake. To maximize views and living space on this tiny lot, we decided to build (drumroll, please) another two-story. So, all I do is go up and down the darn stairs all day long. Yet, I am used to it.

The home in which I spent most of my growing-up years was a multi-level split. With all the stairs in that home, my mother developed a cleaning and organizational plan I employ today. When picking up on one level of the house, I pile on the steps things that belong on another level. Every time I go upstairs, I pick up the pile-- or whatever I can carry from the pile-- and take it up with me. When I go downstairs, I take whatever is waiting at the top of the staircase and stow it below.

It makes sense to me. It minimizes trips to different parts of the house and helps direct items back to their proper places. I say multiple times a day, to the other people who live in this house, "Don't forget to take the stuff on the stairs and put it away." They don't listen.

The other five members of Krinkeland walk past those piles every time, every day. I have thought them imperceptive, inconsiderate, lazy. Turns out they may just be hard of hearing, or, more likely, hard of listening. Since my ears do work, and my brain receives the messages, I actually heard my sometimes-passive-aggressive husband tell the children, "Your mom must really like stairs. These stairs must be her favorite place. She is always putting stuff here. Why do you suppose she always piles so many things on the stairs?" I came around the corner and said, "As I frequently explain, the stuff on the stairs needs to go upstairs and be put away. I place it there so you... and you... and you... and you... and you can all take your things as you go."

He said, "Oh."

The Most Adorable, Annoying Christmas Song

2011-12-05T16:55:00.002-06:00

I wasn't out for long this morning before I thought, I should have just stayed home. It was darn cold. The roads were slippery. Madeline wouldn't sit in the cart. The checker made one too many shoplifting jokes. But, we got through the errands and soon it was time to pick up Benjamin, and I was rewarded with this:

Prayers for a Friend

2011-12-04T21:08:00.002-06:00

Please pray for my friend, Christine. A mom by vocation, nurse by profession, and busy bee by nature, Chris has spent the weekend in the hospital, where she remains, in an immense amount of pain. Earlier this fall, Chris was diagnosed with rheumatic fever, the result of a nasty strep infection. On Friday, she began suffering even more painful neurological symptoms, which may or may not be related to the rheumatic fever. I ask you to please add Chris and her family to your prayer list.

Santa Stories

2011-12-03T23:52:00.003-06:00

'Tis the season... for lots of Santa talk around our house. Madeline points out his likeness on every gift bag and toy ad. I have many times invoked his name to encourage good will toward siblings. And, with the ages of these kids, there are the questions about logistics and believability. On this front, I adopt and continue to live out my good friend's philosophy, "You must believe to receive."

And, we all know seeing is believing. So, here's where the problem comes in: Word got back to me Benjamin and another preschooler nearly came to blows in a heated discussion of transportation modes. The other kid claimed, "Everyone knows Santa rides in a sleigh." But Ben held his ground: "I saw him land in a helicopter!" Darn that extravagantly gimmicked Christmas tree farm.

New Car

2011-12-01T10:27:00.001-06:00

After my car blew up (the mechanic used a much more technical term, "puked") on Monday, and Todd got home from Germany as quickly as he could on Tuesday, we spent 11 hours on Wednesday car shopping. We had a few hours of hope after a transmission shop towed the car and the guy said a couple of the potential problems could be fixed for less than a thousand dollars. But, alas, the problem with my tranny and other stuff carried a price tag of about what the car was worth.

So, back to car shopping... The good news was, Todd and I were both on the same page-- we didn't want to buy a car at all; the bad news was, we had to-- and with not a lot of options and not a lot of time. Our other vehicle was purchased as a commuter car when we were still happily childless. We couldn't come up with a feasible plan to transport four kids in a '99 VW Jetta, at least not without tying one to the roof.

So, we ended up purchasing another Honda Odyssey. It does not have a DVD player. It does have leather. It does not have a navigation system. It does have heated seats. Oh, yeah... This is Mama's car. It is black. Todd says it looks like a hearse.

It was a nice day with my husband. He did the negotiating and just let me sit and pout when I got tired of the games. We had a nice lunch together-- at a place that did not even have corn dogs on the menu.

Now, we just have to pray the Jetta runs for five more years.

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Greeting Jesus

2011-11-28T20:59:00.004-06:00

Ever since we moved to this house, which is on a pretty busy city street, I have been wanting one of those light-up, outdoor Nativity scenes. It just always seemed like a good thing to have, and a good place to have one. But, I have been too cheap to buy one. The only store in our town that sells the set is Menard's, and it's close to $100 for Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I've checked the after-Christmas clearance, but Menard's never marks down the set... just packs it up for the following year, I think.

Well, lucky me-- this fall my mom found a nearly perfect set at a garage sale, and even bargained the seller down to a mere $8! This past weekend, while Todd and the kiddos were on their eight-hour tour to the Christmas tree farm, my parents and I set up the Nativity set, along with some light-up deer (I don't have any other animals) on our front porch. I am no designer, but I think it looks OK.

Here's the really fun part: Madeline has noticed the figures on the porch and she adores them. She talks to them out the window, and never neglects them upon our departure from or arrival to the driveway. Maddy calls out, "Bye, bye, BeBe Jesus! See you soon!" Later, she follows up with, "Hi, Jesus! We home!"

Just one of the many reasons we say, "Love that kid."

Liberty from Holiday Stress

2011-11-26T21:55:00.007-06:00

The past few days have been a whirlwind of activity for our family: celebrating the Thanksgiving holiday, participating in the post-Thanksgiving shopping rush, getting the Christmas tree and starting to decorate our home, working on a do-it-yourself home improvement project (the kitchen backsplash-- photos coming soon,) having visits with friends, and sending Todd off on his most recent trip. In the middle of it all, I had a little asthma attack that kind of knocked me down... leaving me breathless, literally.

So, it has also been a good weekend for me to practice staying calm. After everyone went to bed last night, I sat in the living room and zoned out, staring at the beautiful Christmas tree lights, and thinking about nothing except how, as a child, I used to lay on the couch and gaze at the tree and be excited for Christmas. I think I stared so hard last night, I kind of fell asleep. But, really, maybe that's what I needed-- and how bad can things get, anyway?

With Todd gone, I had an epiphany this evening of how easy my job as Krinkeland chef can become: I realized that Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is the only meal all four of my children will eat with any degree of regularity. So, from now on, that's all I'm going to cook. Today, we had it with green grapes and carrot sticks. Tomorrow, red grapes and celery sticks...

After exerting myself over a hot stove making that gourmet meal, I plopped in a chair and let the children put all the ornaments on the tree, all by themselves. Madeline nearly broke her neck climbing on the step stool. Two ornaments got broken. There are no decorations on the top three feet of the tree. Who cares?

When I got tired of listening to them boss each other and bicker, I herded the kids upstairs and through bath time. While I was bathing and putting to bed the younger two, the older two were left to their own devices. I mean, really, what kind of mischief can two little girls make with iPods?

Black Friday Bust

2011-11-25T17:07:00.003-06:00

After last night, I am about ready to throw in the towel on that wacky Christmas shopping tradition. Granted, the Black Friday Shopping Derby has never been sanctioned by the calm, the rational, or the sane. But, since I am none of those things-- and neither is my mother-- we've always had kind of a good time doing a little early-morning bargain-hunting. OK, OK, so we spend more time drinking coffee and laughing at all the other crazies, but, it's tradition!

This year, when so many stores announced they would open at midnight, or even earlier, Mom and I agreed it might be easier to go out for a couple hours at night and then go home and still get some sleep, rather than get up at 4 a.m., shop, and then have to power through the rest of the day. Apparently, we are not the only two people who thought this was a good idea. It was MAYHEM.

At our first stop, anything I was remotely interested in buying came into the store in short supply and was apparently promised in "tickets" doled out to bargain seekers (mean ones, at that) who had lined up who-knows-when. I took a packaging box to the face and an elbow to the solar plexus. I still managed to find one desirable item worth purchasing and then wound my way through the most ridiculous maze to the checkout that I considered going home right then and there.

But, I am not that smart.

We had a similar experience at the next store, but there, other people's rudeness, laziness and stupidity ended up working to my advantage. Don't ask.

Mom and I made two more stops before calling it a night, and those mostly involved standing in line and standing in line. I truly do not have a grasp on how many hundreds of people were queued up outside of Target. You'd think the Pope was at the entrance. Well, hopefully not, based on some of the outfits we saw...

Upon returning home, around 3:30 or 4 a.m., I discovered my husband was still up working on the tile in the kitchen. I was kind of wishing I'd stayed home and worked with him, so you know that's not the indicator of a fun shopping trip. But, that won't stop me from trying again tomorrow!

The Toting Two-Year-Old

2011-11-23T20:19:00.007-06:00

Madeline walked through the kitchen once, carrying a guitar stand. On her second pass-through, the guitar stand was gone, and she had replaced it with a toilet plunger. I'm not waiting for the third trip!

Caller, State Your Business

2011-11-21T21:12:00.003-06:00

So, I know there are more pressing issues in the world right now, but I just have to vent about one thing that's really bugging me: I find it SO annoying when someone calls me and leaves a voice mail message to the effect of, "Hi, please call me." When you do this people, I think one of two things: (1) you are mad at me and I don't know why, or (2) you are going to ask me to do something I do not want to do.

Since you bothered to leave a message, why not include in said message the purpose of your call? If you are seeking an answer to a question, ask the question and I will call you back with an answer. If you need something from me, make your request, and I will do my best to fulfill it before returning your call. If you are just calling to chat, say that... and I will wait to call you until I have time to "just chat."

I will return your call. I do that. I was raised with manners. I try to use them. I will call you back even when I don't want to call you back. I will even return a message that says, "Call me." But I will not be happy about it, and it will take all the self-control in my manners to not go, "Uuuuhhh!" in your ear when you answer my call.

By the way, I also don't screen my calls. To those who call me frequently, you may not believe this. However, it is common when the phone rings for me to have my hands full of wet laundry or poopy diaper or spilled ketchup or Clorox wipes. I try to get to the phone. Often, I do not make it. It's a similar situation with my cell phone. I have it with me, but it's usually somewhere in the cavern of my handbag. Have you seen that thing?!

Oh, and another point, while we're at it: I might not answer your call if I am on the other line with someone else and there is not a convenient point in the conversation for me to interrupt the other person and ask him or her to hold. Again, this is about manners-- I don't want to make the other person wait while I talk to you when that person called first. Leave a message stating the nature of your call and I will call you back.

If I don't call you back, do not take it personally. Chances are, I did not get your message. Do not leave a phone message with my nine-year-old... or my husband.

And, it's A-OK with me if you do NOT leave a message at all, if there was not an actual purpose for your call. Then, I will not call you back. On a related irritating note, DIRECTED SPECIFICALLY AT MY HUSBAND, if you do not intend to leave a message, please hang up and disconnect the call before the voicemail recoring begins (before you hear the "beep.") Every day the voice mail icon shows up on my cell phone, but when I call it, it's typically a one-second "click" from the man I love. Why?

It's really not that difficult to leave a specific message, and it saves a lot of time and agony, in the long run. Quit being so secretive. People all over the place are constantly spewing tons of information on Facebook and Twitter and silly blogs like this one.

The Project

2011-11-19T22:13:00.004-06:00

12:37 p.m. decision to take on tiling the kitchen backsplash
12:38 p.m. changing into official tiling clothes
12:39 p.m. cleaning off of the kitchen counters, with talk of "that d*** rooster"
12:40 p.m. beginning of the hauling out and assessing of supplies
12:42 p.m. foreman asks worker bee whether she is sure this is the tile she wants
1:00 p.m. argument over backsplash parameters
1:05 p.m. Google image search for "million dollar kitchen backsplash"
2:13 p.m. first trip to Menards
2:42 p.m. second trip to Menards (without child)
3:35 p.m. Google search of "how to tile kitchen backsplash"
4:04 p.m. phone calls to Home Depot, Lowe's and The Tile Shop
5:30 p.m. tile saw test run #1
5:40 p.m. run for Chinese food
7:04 p.m. search for flat-head screwdriver
7:09 p.m. round-up of four Phillips screwdrivers in junk drawer
7:15 p.m. turn off power to kitchen outlets before using screwdriver
7:30 p.m. tile saw test run #2
8:05 p.m. vacuuming of kitchen counters to clean up mess from "prep"
9:30 p.m. worker bee reminds foreman of the upcoming holiday, his next business trip, and the cookie-baking day plus two Christmas parties slated for said kitchen
9:43 p.m. third trip to Menards
10:10 p.m. ordering of tile saw blade on Amazon

OK, so no backsplash yet... but some other really great things DID happen today, including:
*the season's first snowfall
*a visit from our friend Kailee who brought images from our family photo session (They're coming in the Christmas card, but I'll put some on Facebook, too.)
*the baptism of nephew Elias Jon Francis!

Libby's Commandments

2011-11-17T16:20:00.003-06:00

Elisabeth's teacher had sent an email reminder of a test tomorrow in Religion. So, when Libby got off the bus, I asked her about homework and suggested we review the material for the test. "Oh, we don't need to do that, Mom," she told me. "I already know it all." I challenged, "You already know EVERYTHING there is to know about religion?! Well, then, you can teach me, because I think I still have a lot to learn."

Libby backpedaled, that, no, she didn't know everything about God, but she did know all of her material for the test, because it is on the Ten Commandments. I asked Libby whether she could recite all ten of God's commandments, but she corrected again, "No, Mom the test is only on the really important commandments, like, 'you shall not kill' and 'you shall not steal anything that belongs to your mother and father.'"

Yeah, I'd say she's ready.

Not Meteorologist, Nor Geographer, He

2011-11-16T14:29:00.001-06:00

The news was on when Benjamin walked through the room and stopped to take in the weather report: "Hey, Mom, guess what? In East Dakota, they got 30 anchors of snow! Isn't that great?!"

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Dancing Floor

2011-11-15T21:14:00.002-06:00

Look what we found at the mall today! (Yeah, we don't get out much.)

Leafing My Religion

2011-11-13T18:33:00.001-06:00

The team of Dad and Benjamin spent much of the weekend cleaning up leaves and readying the yard and house for winter. At one point, the little opportunist said, "You know, Mom, Dad and I are going to be working out here for a long time. So, when it's time for church, you and the girls can just go ahead without us."

Nice try.

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The Wizard's Sneeze

2011-11-12T21:24:00.003-06:00

I went to the library this morning to pick up some reserved books. Amanda and Madeline were with me. While there, we noticed a sign for a puppeteering workshop going on the very same morning. I mean, really, who doesn't love the library for, in addition to all the reading material, this very thing? Fun, educational, free! So, I left Amanda at the library for a couple hours and returned later with all the kids to watch the puppet shows the children had created.

So, the disclaimer is: This is one of those posts that exists just because I am a mom, making record of whatever it is her kids do. That's all I'm saying about this puppet show.

The Story of My Life

2011-11-11T22:04:00.002-06:00

I came home this evening, after a few hours out with friends, to find laundry piles lining the hallway and my washing machine in pieces. In theory, this is a good thing, because the machine has leaked for months now... and I have been nagging the "man of the house" to get it fixed. But, alas, he cannot call an appliance repair expert as a normal person would. Instead, Todd scrounged around the Internet for deals and how-tos... ordered the part on eBay... and then sat in the laundry room with the laptop window open to YouTube instructional videos.

Needless to say, this is not the first time I've witnessed such a scene. It is not even the first time this week. Nor will it be the last.

After rounding up all the children and putting them to bed-- because it was waaay past their bedtime; Madeline looked up from her plastic kitchen with droopy eyes mumbling "Mommy's home" from Nuk-plugged lips, while Amanda zoned out on the couch muttering "They got the python" to Animal Planet on the TV-- I put up my hair and slipped into my pajamas. Then, I wandered back to the laundry room and asked, "Do you need my help?"

Now, this was nothing more than a courtesy question, something along the lines of, "Did you save any room for dessert?" But, Todd's head snapped up and he responded, much too quickly and much too cheerfully, "Yes!" Crap.

Well, I guess I could sit and keep him company... or hold something... or go get him a cold drink. All part of my wifely duties, right?

My husband picked up the plastic tray that dispenses laundry detergent and fabric softener and said, "I need you to find the small, plastic parts that fell out of this." Okay... I looked down at the floor of the small room and into the corners-- where could the pieces be? "No, not in here," Todd said. "The parts are out there." He gestured at the window. Okay...

Todd explained-- quite logically in his mind-- that there was a little bit of water pooled in the bottom of the detergent dispenser, so Todd, in his infinite wisdom, cranked open the screen-less, second-floor, laundry room window and dumped out the water... and the little, plastic pieces that fit into the tray. They fell (were pushed, really) out the window, presumably down somewhere in the massive leaf piles that have blown up against the side of the house from the neighbor's yard. Or, possibly, the parts could be stuck inside the air conditioning unit. There was only one way to find out.

I know what you're wondering: How loudly did I laugh in his face? What wretched name did I call him? The imprint of which tool is adorning his left cheek?

Nah, I did it.

I made vows, didn't I?

I put on my fleece, and a jacket over that, and some big, clompy shoes, and I found a flashlight, and I went outside, and I walked around my house, and I navigated the steep hill and the landscaping rock and the knee-high leaf piles. I found my rogue washing machine parts.

Back inside, I rinsed off the plastic pieces and delivered them back upstairs. I could hear the thoughts in my astonished husband's head, "I can't believe she did it?!" Already on a roll, I laid down on the laundry room floor and fished out three screwdrivers from underneath my nearly reassembled washing machine.

That's how we do Friday night in Krinkeland.

Thanking a Teacher

2011-11-09T15:03:00.003-06:00

With Thanksgiving creeping up on us, the kids are getting plenty of opportunity to give thanks and express gratitude for all the blessings in their lives. They talk about this in school and elsewhere. Madeline's tumbling class even had a Thanksgiving theme today. (And, yes, she is the class turkey.)

My sister and I have both adopted daily measures to make sure our children recognize how lucky they are, and to thank God for their blessings. At suppertime for her family, bedtime for mine, each family member shares "Three Good Things" about the day. I think my sister even couches it more specifically, as three things for which each person is grateful-- but, you get the idea. In Krinkeland, we were all giggling at bedtime, after I said one of the greatest things about my day was Grandma's Rice Krispie bars... and, then, the kids had to stop Daddy who was still going on with his list after item number six, tickling Benjamin and Madeline.

I could sing "Songs of Thankfulness and Praise" all day long. I probably should, as it would keep me from being dark, sarcastic, pouty, critical, whiny, snarky and bitter. I'll work on that.

Right now, however, I must give thanks for my children's school. There are many wonderful things I could say about it, but, above all, I am eternally grateful for the wonderful people in it. My children are cared for and loved in this place. I know it every day, I really do... but, today, I am reminded by an email sent from one of my daughter's former teachers in that school. Which teacher? Which child? Irrelevant. Here is part of the teacher's note, followed by part of my response:

Have I told you how much I miss your daughter? I still get her “Hi!”, but truly miss her daily excitement and love of school.

I wish I could take credit for the Little Light that is my child. But she shines so brightly, independent of me, often in spite of me. It is her gift. Like you, I just try to stand closely enough to bask in her beams.

Giving thanks with a grateful heart.

Works of Art for the Workplace

2011-11-08T13:58:00.004-06:00

Benjamin's main hobby of late has been coloring. He really likes to color and he really has been churning out the art. Ben does not like to color alone. He goes to the computer and prints out coloring sheets and colors, colors, colors pictures for his grandparents, his teachers, his aunts and cousins, and everyone else he loves. Then, he signs his name at the bottom (Benjamin, these days, not simply Ben) and folds up each picture and stuffs it into an envelope for delivery. Yes, we buy printer paper and envelopes in bulk at Costco.

While Todd was waiting to review Amanda's math homework with her, Benjamin was badgering Daddy to color with him. Todd acquiesced. I suspect he really likes to color. Lots of adults do, finding it therapeutic. I often find Todd's mom and Ben in the middle of a big Color Fest. I know Grandma would agree to pretty much any harebrained idea Ben put on the table, but she has also told me she enjoys coloring. It makes sense, an outlet for her to express her creative side.

For me, this would not be the case. As a kid, I'm sure I spent plenty of time coloring... but I don't really remember. As an adult, I have trouble sitting still long enough to truly concentrate on coloring. If I do concentrate, I become self-conscious and anxiety-ridden. Am I pressing too hard or not hard enough? Am I making sound color choices? Do the tones harmonize with each other? Is my picture an accurate representation?

Todd seemed to have a good time coloring with his son. As with anything, he exhibited patience and competency and attention to detail. When father and son had both completed their coloring projects, Ben asked, "Dad, what are you going to do with yours?" Benjamin, I am sure, had a mental roster of family members and friends in queue to receive his masterpieces. He must have assumed Todd had a designated recipient, too. When Todd said he didn't have any plans for his artwork, Ben-to-the-Rescue had a solution: "Daddy, why don't you give your picture to one of the guys at work? I bet they'd really enjoy that."

Can't you just see it?! Why can't we all share childlike innocence and joy? Maybe the world would be a better place if grown men colored pictures and delivered them to their coworkers at the office.

Guys at Work, this one's for you:

The Ol' Pie-in-the-Face Game

2011-11-07T20:27:00.004-06:00

I'm breaking my own rule about not posting photos of kids in the tub, because this one is too cute. The two-year-old asked over and over again, for at least a half-hour, "You want pie?"

Car Shopping with 4 Kids

2011-11-05T17:09:00.002-05:00

'This one smells like peanuts."
"That car has a surgical table in the back-- that's handy."
"We should just trade in our van for six go-karts."
"I would get car sick in this car for sure."
"If we got this car, we could have two more babies."
"We should get Daddy the car that smells like peanuts."
"Can we take this (test) car back now? PLEASE?! My blanket is in our old one!"
"This dealership has a gift shop. Weird."

Satisfying the Sweet Tooth

2011-11-01T14:33:00.002-05:00

Between school parties, after-school activities, grandparents' gifts and plain, old-fashioned door-to-door trick-or-treating, my children have amassed enough candy to build the witch's house from Hansel and Gretel. I am a total socialist when it comes to Halloween candy... After all their sorting and trading and (ugh!) eating last evening, I dumped the kids' collections into big mixing bowls.

For the next few weeks, I will dole out a piece here and a piece there-- after-dinner treats or bribes for completing tasks around the house. Larger quantities of candy will disappear as I send freezer bags full with Todd to work. (I suspect the candy never makes it out of his car.) And, yes, Todd and I will eat the candy after the kids are in bed.

The funny thing is, everyone wins-- or everyone loses-- with Halloween candy in Krinkeland, because the kids like totally different things than the parents like. All the kids ever seem to be after is something fruity and chewy and sticky and sour... to which I say, Yuck. My children were bummed the "Pop Guy" was not out last night. I'm pretty convinced it happened the first time by accident, as in, some single guy pulled into his driveway after a trip to the grocery store and realized it was Halloween when costumed kids started ringing his doorbell, so he opened a case of soda and started handing out cans. Still, my kids look forward to that unique treat every year, and this year his house was dark.

Upon the gremlins' return and thaw, Todd and Grandma P. dug through buckets last evening, searching for Nut Goodies and Salted Nut Rolls. The kids asked, "What's that?" And assured the elders they could have "whatever those are" if they found any. They didn't. So, here's my list of the Best Halloween Treats, also known as What Mommy Finds, Mommy Eats:

1. Heath
2. Twix
3. 3 Musketeers
4. Peanut Butter M&Ms
5. Twizzlers
6. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups/Pumpkins/Miniatures
7. Snickers
8. Kit Kat
9. Milky Way
10. Skittles (but really just the red ones)

I follow this with my list of the Worst Halloween Treats:
1. Pixy Stix

Halloween Sights

2011-10-31T23:33:00.003-05:00

Today will go down in history as "The Halloween Amanda Lost Her Glasses." Aah, life with children.

When heading out to go trick-or-treating, Amanda slipped her eyeglasses into her jacket pocket, because, she said later, she just felt the glasses did not go with her costume. Naturally, when one is a nine-year-old girl dressed as Justin Bieber, one does not wish to appear inauthentic. Amanda is not old enough to go trick-or-treating without an adult... but she is old enough to run screaming down the sidewalk, with a friend on each elbow, just far enough and fast enough to make it appear as though she is not with her younger siblings and her father. She did just that.

At some point in the two-hour excursion, Amanda's eyeglasses fell out of her pocket. She did not notice. She did not notice until she stopped at the next door neighbors' house before returning home and wanted to put on her glasses before entering our house. No glasses.

Amazingly, it did not take Amanda too long to fess up. While her friends and siblings were sorting Snickers from Skittles, my first born sidled up to me on the couch and, in a low voice, said, "Don't be mad at me because it was an accident-- but Ilostmyglasses." Of course, I was mad. And I reacted. And it didn't take long for all our guests to exit Krinkeland. And, as well they did, because the Halloween Witch was making an appearance.

Amanda and Dad took the flashlights and the car and canvassed the area in question to the best of their ability. No dice. When they returned home, Daddy put to bed the other three overtired, over-sugared goblins, while I lectured Amanda. I knew it was fruitless, but I was really ticked.

We talked about formulating a plan to look for the glasses and what we were going to do if we didn't find them. Then, I said, "I'm going out to look again. Are you coming?" I'll give the kid this much-- she knew the right answer to that question.

Each of us took a bright LED flashlight and went foot by foot along each side of the sidewalk, up and down the street where she last remembered having her glasses. After nearly an hour, a man jogged up to us and asked, "Are you, by chance, looking for a pair of prescription eyeglasses?"

He said his wife had found the glasses by the candy bowl on her front porch, and, when he saw us out with flashlights, he made the connection. Amanda was sincere in her thanks and appreciation. I hugged that stranger right on the dark street, I did.

Now, lest you think the frustrating eyeglasses story comprises the whole of the Krinkeland Halloween, I can assure you we made many more fun and enjoyable memories:

*Madeline was so excited to go trick-or-treating. She didn't necessarily understand the concept, but played the part of the trained monkey well enough to say "trick-or-treat" and "thank you" at each house. Then, at each and every house, she would turn and run back down the walk, yelling, "I got CANDY!"

*Grandma R. went on her usual Halloween hike with her son and grandchildren, and, as usual, she went in costume. This year, she was a friendly ghost. You could plainly see that by the big smiley face on her white hood. However, being that she was wearing a white hood and a white sheet, there was, unfortunately, something strongly Klan-reminiscent about her outfit. We tied a big pink bow at the top of her hood and that seemed to help quite a bit. Still, Grandma was the first of the entourage to return to the house, saying simply, "I was scaring people."

*Grandpa R. sat on his perch, tabulating trick-or-treaters to the house, as I requested. At the end of the evening, we'd had 17 young visitors. That does not really explain how we went through 45 large candy bars.

*Lucia, my nine-month-old niece, came over with her parents for a first-ever round of trick-or-treating. The loveliest ladybug around, she didn't hit too many houses, because the homeowners soon saw through the scam-- they clearly were NOT giving candy to a baby who has no teeth, but to her parents.

*Grandma P. put on the Justin Beiber wig, and actually pulled it off.

Happy Halloween! Who wants to try getting these kids up and on the school bus in the morning?

Cut Up

2011-10-30T22:25:00.006-05:00

It happens this way every year in Krinkeland-- the last-minute carving of the pumpkins. It's no surprise really... the dad around here, when he is around here, can be a bit of a procrastinator and a bit of a perfectionist. And, as far as pumpkin carvers go, Dad is all my kids have. Just the thought of pumpkin guts, much less the texture or the smell, makes me gag. That's probably why I put off the selecting of the pumpkins until we're up against the Halloween deadline. Maybe I think my kids will forget and we'll just be able to avoid the whole pumpkin carving scene this year. Yeah, that's not going to happen.

So, it was long and grueling, but we have our 2011 Works of Porch Art, lined up and lighted just in time to greet trick-or-treaters.

It's no surprise Elisabeth found an outline of a chipmunk to carve into her massive pumpkin.

Madeline couldn't really choose a template on her own, but her ears sure perked up at the mention of Minnie Mouse.

Benjamin, also true to form, requested Patrick from SpongeBob Squarepants, and Daddy delivered.

Naturally, Amanda is much too original to subject her unique pumpkin to a standardized stencil, but she based her silly-yet-traditional jack-o-lantern face on this.

Hope they make you smile! (All they made me do was scrub pumpkin bits off the kitchen floor.)

Really, Ridge?

2011-10-29T22:17:00.007-05:00

I was catching up on my "The Bold and the Beautiful" tonight-- a week's worth of episodes recorded and waiting-- and, now, I have just one message for the show's creators, or, more specifically, for the wardrobe stylists:

Soap operas are fantastic creations. For that reason, I tolerate A LOT-- pregnancies in 50-year-old women, marriages between stepchildren, people coming back from the dead... BUT, I cannot and will not accept Ridge in a lavender scarf.

Judging from all the blogging on this topic when I Googled it to find a photo, I am not the only one who finds the purple scarf ridiculous. I mean, isn't it difficult enough to take a man seriously when his character's name is "Ridge," he's been married to the same woman at least three times-- along with a number of others in between, and his cheekbones are more prominent than those of the fashion models for whom he designs dresses?!

She Needed that Hole in Her Head

2011-10-28T18:42:00.006-05:00

When you're the only kid in first grade who hasn't lost a tooth, you are an island, I tell you. But, to start second grade and STILL have all your baby teeth... Well, according to my eight-year-old, it's a fate worse than death. Thankfully, today we can take that stone off Elisabeth's neck:

I cannot recall the last time this girl was so excited! Let's hope the Tooth Fairy does not disappoint.

The Best

2011-10-27T20:53:00.001-05:00

I got nothin' today that compares to the video my sister sent me:

The Namesayer

2011-10-25T14:01:00.004-05:00

For months, now, I have observed that Madeline does not say her own name, nickname, anything. For some time, she really did not say many discernible words at all, so that was just part of the lack of speaking. Sometime around her second birthday, she did began to talk a little more-- and now she talks a lot, sometimes even in the family language, sometimes in her own, unique native tongue-- but I remember telling the pediatrician at Maddy's last well child visit, "She still doesn't talk much. And she doesn't say her name. She doesn't call herself anything."

I remember each of the other children as toddlers making some approximation of their own names-- "Ama," "Wibby," "Benny." Finally, Madeline started saying "me" and "mine," which took away my concern and replaced it with annoyance. What mother hasn't heard toddler choruses of "Mine, MINE, MINE?!"

Still, one of us will ask Madeline pretty much every day, "Hey, Maddy, what's your name?" (Get it? There's a big clue in the way we pose the question.) Up until now, she has just smiled and said nothing. Today, however, we got our answer. Madeline stood tall, put her hands over her ears and yelled, "MAD KINKY!"

I am so proud.

The Toddler Whisperer

2011-10-23T09:33:00.004-05:00

I was fascinated by the most interesting sight this morning. Madeline was throwing a fit. Not interesting. I was helping Amanda write a book report and Elisabeth was trying to help Maddy get a drink. To the best of my understanding, the tantrum had something to do with juice and yogurt smoothies and Maddy saying she wanted one thing but screaming and throwing herself on the ground when she got that thing. It was a pretty typical two-year-old tantrum.

I thanked Libby for helping and told her it was OK... I didn't understand what Maddy wanted, either. Since there was no serious problem and the little one wasn't in any danger, I said we could just leave her alone until she calmed down. I went back to Amanda's homework, and here's when the fascination began.

Libby went over to Madeline, who was thrashing around on the ground. She does this thing where she gets on all fours and "crawls" along the floor, dragging her forehead, which I'd think would cause rug burn, but, not yet. Anyway, the big sister sat on the floor, a safe distance from screaming Maddy, and began talking to her in a soft voice. I couldn't hear what she was saying, with all the yelling. Then, Libby stood up, and gently covered Madeline's whole body with pillows and blankets. She went and got a pacifier and handed it to her, talking calmly all the time.

Then, Libby just sat next to her sister and waited. Within a minute or two-- fantastic recovery time for the toddler-- Madeline sat up, pushed the pillows off, and handed the pacifier back to Elisabeth. Then, Libby said, "Ready to play now?" Maddy stood, took her sister's hand, and off they went.

I think they understand each other.

Our Moral Majority

2011-10-22T16:30:00.007-05:00

Benjamin: "Maddy, throw away the wrapper from your Froot by the Foot."
Madeline: "Why?"
Benjamin: "Because it's garbage."
Madeline: "Why?"
Benjamin: "Don't throw it on the ground!"
Madeline: "Why?"
Benjamin: "Because that's littering, and littering is a sin! Don't you know that?! We're going to church!"

Five minutes later...
Benjamin: "Mom, is littering actually a sin?"
Mom: "Well, it's not the right thing to do-- but the bigger sin was hitting your sister three times over the wrapper."
Benjamin: "Oh."

Five minutes after that...
Amanda: "Yeah, you should be more concerned about sins that hurt other people, Ben."
Benjamin: "Like what?"
Amanda: "Like hitting."
Benjamin: "What else is a sin?"
Amanda: "Adultery."

Table for Four

2011-10-20T21:39:00.002-05:00

Both Amanda and Benjamin had social invitations that took them outside of Krinkeland for the evening, so that left Elisabeth and Madeline with Mom and Dad. Being down two kids is a pretty good reason to get some errands done, so we went shopping. I know, trying to tick off a tasks list with a two-year-old and an eight-year-old may seem like unnecessary torture to many of you, but, as someone who occasionally takes all four children on the monthly Costco run, two kids seems like a walk in the park.

Actually, with four young children in our family, Todd and I often take the divide- and-conquer approach. Of course, this applies to the times when he is not traveling... but, it is common on the weekends for him to head to Menards with two of the children while I hit the grocery store with the other two. Naturally, there is jockeying for which two-- and the right answer to that question depends on the nature of the errand, the length of the errand, the time of day, how much sleep each got the night before, and a cacophony of other factors that change with the wind.

Sometimes we do things on our own, too, and "stick" the other parent with all four, as when I volunteer at Birthright. (Would I really be able to counsel a woman in a crisis pregnancy with my four hoodlums hovering about?) Other times, I will run an errand and take just one child with me. Elisabeth, in particular, loves to come along whenever it is just her; she craves that one-on-one attention.

So, this evening, after one-too-many shopping stops, the four of us went to dinner. We let Libby pick, which was fun for her, though not so much for us. (Applebee's-- ugh.) It was weird, though, walking into a restaurant and getting seated at an average-sized table. Yes, I could actually listen to one of Libby's stories from beginning to end. Yes, we noticed how much milk Madeline drank before her food arrived (a lot!) Yes, it seemed there was less fighting, jockeying for position, complaining, and overall mayhem.

As whenever I am out with just a couple of the children, I can't help but think, "So, this is what it would be like if I only had two kids." It does seem simpler, calmer. But I miss the absentees. Our family is not complete unless everyone is present and accounted for.

In Case I Go Missing...

2011-10-19T20:11:00.003-05:00

We took some supper to Grandpa this afternoon. He is home from the hospital (yay!) but preparing to return tomorrow (boo!) to begin radiation and chemotherapy. I so appreciate you keeping him in prayer.

Anyway, Todd came and met us after work, so we had two cars at the 'rents' place. I left ahead of the rest of the crew, to be sure I'd be home in time to meet Amanda's return from a birthday party. Upon arriving at an empty house, I was struck with the question of what to do with myself: Start tomorrow's laundry? Nah. Hunker down with that good book I've been trying to plow through? Nah. Eat ice cream straight out of the carton? Nah. Shave my legs? Bingo.

Before going upstairs, I couldn't resist putting a note on the door:

To Amanda,
Come in. I am in the bathtub.

To Axe Murderer,
Do not come in. I am not home. Try the neighbors'.

An Anniversary Homage

2011-10-18T17:21:00.007-05:00

Happy Anniversary to the man who:

*works his tush off but never sees his family as burdensome
*doesn't yell when I hit the side of the garage with the car
*has a new philosophy for fall yard work that involves doing nothing until the last leaf falls
*shares my passion for Diet Mountain Dew, calling it "nectar of the gods," and never fails to comment on the quality of the mix in the soda fountain
*never complains when he comes home to a disaster area
*knows exactly how to order my Blizzard at Dairy Queen
*explains algebra slowly and simply, with the patience of a saint
*finally gave up on trying to get me to take shorter showers
*when chastized by me for "spoiling" the kids, replies, "How can you 'spoil' with hugs?!"
*always has room for popcorn
*pushes the children to try new things
*believes the emails from Michele Bachmann are personal messages to him
*spent our anniversary running the carpool between swim team practice and dance class
*forgets many things, but never forgets to send flowers
*puts up with a lot of me-- I can be A LOT-- and actually seems to enjoy it

Here's to 15 years more... and 15 after that... and 15 after that...

Doubly Plugged

2011-10-17T20:17:00.003-05:00

I was down the hall, reading to the big girls at bedtime. Another door creaked open, and this is what poked out:

Based on this photo, what are the chances of Madeline giving up the pacifier any time soon?

So Simple

2011-10-16T20:14:00.002-05:00

I realize how simplistic the following thought is... but, maybe it isn't...

I keep playing over and over in my mind something I read a few days ago-- the Day 17 intention for the current 40 Days for Life campaign:

May all understand more deeply that the pro-life message is rooted in the two basic truths of life:

There is a God;
He isn't me.

The Cancer Coaster

2011-10-12T21:48:00.003-05:00

When Todd and I were young and childless, we took a vacation to Walt Disney World. We both love roller coasters, and this is a pretty good destination for that kind of desire. At one of the Disney resorts, we encountered the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster. At the time of our trip, more than a decade ago, this particular amusement ride was a novelty and a big deal. The cool, new thing was the coaster used the force of a supersonic F-14 to accelerate from a stand-still stop to high speeds-- right at the start. We got strapped in, heard our safety instructions, and were then, accompanied by rock music, shot forward at breakneck speed. That's how the ride began.

The roller coaster metaphor has been used and overused to describe many of life's experiences, and, in fact, life itself. However, from the moment my in-laws received Harlan's cancer diagnosis, he-- and the rest of us-- have been launched on just such a ride. I kind of expected a "typical" roller coaster ride: the waiting in line; the anxiety as safety harnesses latch; the slow rolling of the train; the click-stop-click-stop of the painfully slow-building rise; a huge, stomach-losing drop; ups and downs, twists and turns, and more ups and downs; the disorientation of being flipped upside down; the rest of life passing in a peripheral blur; a few more bumps; and, finally, a gradual slowing to the end of the ride, followed by steps onto firm ground, and a walk into the future. But, what Harlan has gotten, what his family is riding along with him, is the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster.

Before anyone could even wrap thoughts around a diagnosis, and before Harlan and Connie could fully settle on a medical team and a treatment plan, Harlan entered the hospital for a "routine" procedure-- placement of a port and feeding tube-- that would "help" him better handle the pending cancer treatment. In the eight days that have followed, complications have kept Harlan in the hospital, off any kind of food and drink, in pain, and out of patience.

This afternoon, the dear man underwent his third surgery since last Tuesday. Follow Harlan's story here. Please keep Harlan in your prayers-- that his mind will rest, that his body will heal, that he will soon recover enough to take on the next big battle: cancer itself. Pray, too, for my MIL, who is Harlan's dedicated best friend, spokesperson, comforter and hope. God be with them both.

A Week with Freckles

2011-10-10T22:21:00.004-05:00

Benjamin left preschool last week with a new friend-- in his backpack. It was the class mascot, a stuffed dog named Freckles, and Ben was charged with caring for him and entertaining him for the week. What a week it was to have Freckles!

Freckles visited Grandpa in the hospital.

Freckles waited for Elisabeth to finish her dance class.

Freckles went along on the field trip to the apple orchard.

Freckles did pretty much everything Ben did... he even learned to drive the toy race cars around the track, and sat with the family at the supper table! We enjoyed having Freckles spend the week with us. I will enjoy even more passing him off to some other family-- that's the last thing I needed was to keep track of one more thing!

Elias Arrives!

2011-10-09T21:26:00.005-05:00

Meet the new man in my life:

That's my nephew, Elias, about an hour old in the photo. He was born just before noon, weighing in at just a hair over 7 pounds and 20 inches long. He definitely looks like the rest of the family, but his coloring appears fairer.

My sister looked lovely as ever... and boy, were his brothers and cousins excited to meet Elias! We are all thrilled he is here and he is healthy. Oh, and, once again, the boys outnumber the girls in the grandkid count on my side of the family.

The Un-October

2011-10-08T22:25:00.004-05:00

Here is a partial list of the week's activities, things I never expected to do in October, in the Upper Midwest:

*Running the air conditioning
*Wearing dresses with bare legs
*Watching the kids wade in the lake
*Visiting the orchard in shorts, and still being hot
*Watering the mums twice a day-- at least
*Seeing TV alerts for thunderstorm watches

I am not complaining about the weather... I hate the cold. But, it's weird, isn't it? Every time I go outside and feel the warm wind against my face, I think "Santa Ana," and that's not a phrase we use much in these parts.

National Lampoon's Midwestern Vacation

2011-10-07T13:18:00.003-05:00

Hey, look-- Cousin Eddie is staying down the street from my sister's house:

Dueling Field Trips

2011-10-06T14:51:00.002-05:00

In a moment of Mommy Genius, I signed up to chaperone Elisabeth's field trip and Benjamin's field trip... without realizing they were both scheduled for today. Now, normally, that would not be a HUGE dilemma-- I would just call in the reinforcements. However, this week: one set of grandparents is on vacation; another set of grandparents is in the hospital; my sister is due to have a baby any minute; my brother is adjusting to his first week as a stay-at-home dad; and, any mom I know in this town is pretty much slated to go on one field trip or the other.

In reality, chaperoning neither field trip was mandatory. Benjamin's was his second to an apple orchard, this one for his other preschool class. Libby's teacher had to put a limit on the number of chaperones due to space restrictions. But, my kids are young enough that they still want Mommy to come along on fun outings with their friends, so, why wouldn't I take advantage of that?

My solution: DADDY. Thankfully, Todd is home this week, and, in a rare move, I told him he just needed to take the day off and go. In an even rarer development, he agreed. Since Grandpa got the first orchard visit-- and since that trip was shorter, requiring fewer hours for Auntie to watch Madeline-- I went with Ben.

We had a wonderful time at Fall Harvest Orchard. The weather has been unbelievable. We took a tractor ride around the orchard and surrounding fields and learned all kinds of random facts about agriculture and horticulture and farm animals. Ben crawled in the corn bins and hopped through the hay. The only low spot was when Ben got scratched by a farm cat. He did receive numerous warnings, from me and the cat, but some boys have to learn the hard way.

Oh, Libby's field trip was to see a play. Where are the photos? You'd have to ask that chaperone.

Monstrous Creation

2011-10-05T21:30:00.003-05:00

Every day after school, the girls and I go through all the papers in their take-home folders-- homework, completed worksheets, notes from the teacher, art projects. We make piles of what needs to be completed and returned, what requires review, what can be pitched, what must be saved. Based on the content, I'm guessing this one was some kind of a math assignment for Elisabeth... but it really made me giggle:

I especially like how much Libby's monster weighs: 400,000,400,000,600,000,100,000,800,000,900,000 pounds

A Soda Drinker's Lament

2011-10-04T21:48:00.004-05:00

Today, Superamerica abandoned the summer-long fountain soda deal. It had been going on for so long, I started thinking it was a permanent change. But, alas, the 32-ouncer that was 59 cents is now $1.09. Bad day... week... month for this, SA.

To a Happy Birthday and a Return to Health

2011-10-03T19:46:00.004-05:00

Happy birthday to my FIL, Harlan! I specify because, yes, I have two. This guy married my MIL just a few months after Todd and I were married... so I especially feel he and I share a bond in coming into this family at the same time. We are in it together!

Now, I don't make it a habit to give shout-outs to anyone and everyone on their birthdays-- but this is a special one. You already know that Harlan has esophageal cancer. Next week, he begins aggressive radiation and chemotherapy treatment. But, first, tomorrow, he will have surgery to place a port and a feeding tube. Please pray that all goes smoothly, and follow Harlan's cancer journey here.

Yes, this will be a big year, filled with change. Some of the changes will be temporary, some will be permanent. We are all learning as we go... And I have faith that Harlan, and the rest of his family, will all come out stronger on the other side of this.

Please join me in wishing Harlan the happiest of birthdays, and many, many more!

Amanda for... What?

2011-09-29T21:58:00.003-05:00

No one in Krinkeland is short on opinions, but, when Amanda began stumping-- totally unprovoked and for no apparent reason-- I couldn't help thinking it sounded like a campaign speech:

"I really hope technology doesn't go too far. I mean, I think technology has gone far enough. I wouldn't hope for too many more advances in technology, because I think then things would just be too 'techno.' And I wouldn't do good with too 'techno.' About the only change I would make would be to have cars run on watermelon juice, so we don't have to rely on fossil fuels. Oh, and no people should go hungry."

I don't know what she's running for... but she has my vote.

Big Brother in a 2-Year-Old Girl's Body

2011-09-28T20:45:00.002-05:00

My toddler reminded me today to wear my seatbelt. To be fair, what Madeline actually called from the backseat as I started the car was, "Uh-oh, Mommy, buckle!" But, since she and I were the only two in the car and she was already securely strapped into her seat, how else could I take it?

Now, please don't take me for flippant, or dumb. Seatbelts save lives. I know that. I wear mine. All the time. You should, too.

But, maybe it's the libertarian side of my husband whose ideals creep into my thoughts at times like these: "Holy cow! A two-year-old is already controlling my personal actions." Indoctrination starts early.

Ballerina Girl

2011-09-27T21:45:00.004-05:00

I sat outside the dance studio this evening, swelling with equal parts pride and envy, as Elisabeth stepped her way through ballet, jazz and tap class. The piano music was loud. The teacher's instructions were encouraging. Though this was Libby's third class of the season, I marveled from my seat over how I had ended up there.

"No Dance" was previously one of my motherhood absolutes. There were only two, really: No Dance and No Hockey. I still cling to "No Hockey." I cherish my garage door windows too much, but not nearly as much as I cherish my kids' teeth... and our savings for retirement. Still, I'm glad I stopped there with the absolutes. If I was one of those parents who walked around spouting, "McNuggets will never cross my children's lips," or "My son will never play pocket pool during story time at the library" or "My daughter will never go to church with peanut butter in her hair"-- well, then, you'd be laughing at me more than you already do.

I did not have dance lessons as a child. I'm sure cost was one reason, but the bigger reason was a loftier one: My mother opposed the way dance studios adulterated little girls, with sequins and makeup and hip thrusts. (And that was in the 1970s!) I was raised with standards, and they stuck.

Once I got to be middle-school-aged or so, I became interested in musical theater. In that arena, I soon learned I could act and sing as well as most kids my age, but I COULD NOT DANCE. Now, I don't place the blame solely on lack of formal instruction. (Hello, genetics?) Still, in all my years of being on stage, not an audition goes by that I don't wish I knew how to dance. And don't give me that "you're never too old to learn" crap... I've had a few dance lessons in my adult life and they were DISASTROUS. I think the ship has simply sailed on that one.

When our children got to be school-aged and were old enough to express their own interests, Libby started asking to go to dance class. I put her off with promises to research area studios and hoped she'd forget. She didn't. I signed her up for gymnastics, which she loved, but it was not dance. She started piano lessons, but she still wanted to dance. Once she had a couple community theater and Saints on Stage musical theater productions under her belt, I knew I was doing Libby a disservice by denying the girl dance lessons.

I spent a great deal of time discussing this with other mothers (including my own.) I surveyed Dance Moms and Non-Dance Moms, alike. I talked with two very close friends who live in different states, both of whom have daughters who dance. After consulting a number of mothers whose kids go to school with my kids, we found our way to one local dance studio that seemed to be not-so-much-like-all-the-rest: lots of variety, small class sizes, low pressure, modest costumes, modest moves.

Since both have had their turns on stage, I encouraged both Amanda and Elisabeth to take a summer intro. to dance session, which they did. After the four-class sampler had ended, Amanda declared she'd had enough of dance and would not be returning. When I asked her why, she said, "My legs hurt." Ah, this one is my child.

But, Libby loved her time in the dance studio, and could not wait for fall to come so she could return. She is taking a very basic, weekly class with girls her age and relative ability level. They get the basics of ballet, jazz and tap dance. I guess the true test will come with the recital in the spring... but that is some time off.

For now, Libby just loves her dance class, and I love the fact that Libby has something that is uniquely hers. Since the two older girls are only 18 months apart in age, they have been somewhat lumped together since Elisabeth's birth-- matching outfits, shared bedroom, tag-alongs on each other's birthday parties. With Amanda as more of the leader and Libby as more of the follower, the older sister tends to dictate what the duo does or does not do.

Libby's eagerness to dance off on her own was reason enough for me to widen my view and write the check. I even bucked up for new shoes, tights and leotards, ordered from an actual dance supplier. Of course, in true Libby fashion, she disregarded it all to bound off tonight in a purple, velour, garage-sale tutu. That girl is dancing with herself.

Pumpkin Guts Everywhere!

2011-09-26T21:55:00.005-05:00

It looks like a jack-o-lantern threw up in my living room.

With Daddy gone (do I have to keep typing AGAIN?!) and the kids begging, it seemed like a good time to drag out the Halloween decorations... even though it's not officially October. With the boxes of decorations came the boxes of costumes, and so begins the month-long game of dress-up.

I'll tell you what, though-- Better than any bribe or any threat (yes, save your comments-- I know those are ineffective parenting techniques, and you know they sometimes happen, anyway) dangling the carrot of "maybe we can get out the Halloween stuff" was a really great incentive to get toys picked up, laundry put away, homework done, and piano practiced. Why can't every day be 35 days before Halloween?

Going Through the Boxes

2011-09-25T20:56:00.004-05:00

It's that time of year again: Time to go through the boxes. You know, where I empty out the kids' dresser drawers and closets and pack up all the clothes that are too small, too ratty or too ugly. Then, I get out the plastic bins of hand-me-downs from the basement, as well as the tubs of new stuff I've been stockpiling since the previous sizes.

Here's the thing: Getting out the new clothes is kind of fun. So, I did that part first. However, I can't put them all away until someone goes through the kids' dressers and closets and cleans out all the cast-offs. That is not fun. So, who's in? I could really use some help with all the piles around here.

The Key

2011-09-21T22:03:00.002-05:00

I know I have been writing about Benjamin a lot lately, but sometimes it seems he's the only person in this house who likes to talk to me. Moody girls.

Today, he found a stray key. I believe it is our house key. I do not know why it was on the bathroom counter. One of the many mysteries of Krinkeland. Anyway, our exchange over the key was a bright highlight in an otherwise very gray day:

Ben: "Mom, what's this key for?"
Mom: "It's the key to my heart."
Ben: "Mom, naw..."
Mom: "Yes, it is. That is the key to my heart, and you, my son, are holding it."
Ben: "This cannot be the key to your heart (pressing it up against his chest.) Mom, how could it even get through your skin to unlock your heart? No, this is not the key to your heart, Mom."
Mom: "You are holding the key to my heart."
Ben: (holding the key a little lower) "Mom, you are wrong. This key won't even unlock my belly button-- and there's already a hole there."

Two Wrenches in the Plans

2011-09-20T22:58:00.002-05:00

It's amazing how one little problem-- or two-- can really gum up the works for a day.

This morning, I was emptying the dishwasher while the kids ate breakfast. Todd was getting ready to leave for work and commented that Amanda had made the bus, while Elisabeth had not. I said, "Yes, I'll have to drive Libby to school when I take Ben to preschool." Benjamin added, "Yep, right after you take me to see Pam." Crap! I had totally forgotten that adaptive phy. ed. started again this morning.

In about 15 minutes' time, I got myself showered, Madeline out of bed, Maddy and Ben and me all dressed and everyone in the car. We were only about five minutes late for gym class-- and Pam pretty much expects us to always be late, anyway, so I was feeling pretty good. But I couldn't shake the late. I was basically late for everything... everywhere... the rest of the day. My clock was just off.

As if that wasn't bad enough, Amanda burst in the back door this afternoon announcing, "Mom, guess what? I broke my glasses!" Ugh. Again, not a huge deal-- but to pack in a trip to the eyeglass shop in an already full agenda? It wouldn't have been such a priority except she has school photos in two days, and she looks mangy enough as your typical fourth grader without grinning into the camera with a big wad of tape on the side of her glasses.

Well, let's just say we did it. What's more, the sample frames they had in the shop were a different color than the ones Amanda ordered-- bronze instead of purple... and Amanda decided she liked those better. So, she's keeping the more neutral frames. Bonus.

Now, I just gotta get off this treadmill and get some sleep... so I can do it all over again tomorrow.

Benjamisms: He Knows Not What He Says

2011-09-19T14:17:00.003-05:00

The door to the kitchen pantry squeaks, and I purposely have not WD-40-ed it, because it's like an alarm, alerting me to snack marauders from wherever I am in the house. As I was folding laundry upstairs, I heard the tell-tale squeak, followed a short time later by the familiar crinkle of individual snack wrapper:

Mom: "Who's eating?"
Ben: "Me."
Mom: "WHAT are you eating?"
Ben: "I don't know... but they sure are good."

For the record, it was a little bag of cheddar cheese Combos-- and they are good.

Today, Benjamin and his preschool classmates were to bring fall-themed items for show-and-tell. Ben brought one of the apples, picked off the tree in our yard that was planted in honor of his birth. But he was more excited about the things the other kids brought:

"One kid brought his caterpillar that was as big as your finger-- not my finger, but yours, Mom! Then, this other kid brought a caterpillar, too, but it was smaller. And (one boy,) he brought his hockey kit. You know, all that stuff? Wait-- is hockey that game where you hit that small thing with that other long thing and it goes somewhere?"

Some kids have athletes for parents... Some kids have us.

Benjamin Blu

2011-09-18T08:55:00.002-05:00

Benjamin has been walking around all week, randomly spouting, "And sometimes I pee in the birthbath!" He's quoting the movie "Rio"... I hope.

Prayers, Please

2011-09-16T21:47:00.003-05:00

One of my FILs (yep, I get two) has been diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Please send prayers Harlan's way as we receive more test results and formulate a treatment plan.

Long-Distance Day

2011-09-15T12:57:00.007-05:00

Todd asked me out on our first date the weekend before my 19th birthday. Then, on my birthday, he sent me this gorgeous, very large bouquet of flowers. I still remember the giggles around my house because my parents and siblings were not entirely sure who sent them. (It had been a good summer.) But, I knew.

A few weeks later, I packed up and returned to college; he did the same. Shortly thereafter, Todd celebrated his 21st birthday without me. My absence for that birthday was due to the distance between our schools, the fact that I was underage, and the reality that I wouldn't have wanted to witness that spectacle, anyway.

That's the last birthday we spent apart.

Today is Todd's (fill-in-the-blank) birthday, and he is away. It's not even for a fun reason-- he's working. Now, my husband and I are no Paul and Linda McCartney:

Paul on spending every night with Linda (not counting their time apart when Paul was in jail in Japan): "I always think of Linda still as my girlfriend. That's how we started out in the '60s, just as friends. Whenever I was working late somewhere, I just never fancied it. I thought: Well, I could stay overnight in this posh hotel, or I could go home to Linda. And it was always the brighter of the two options: Yeah, go home to Linda. It was just I liked being with her, quite frankly." (Source: USA Weekend.com, 1998.)

We are often separated, by career demands-- not by choice, because he's on another continent-- not because I've banished him to the guest room. Still, it feels so wrong to have him not be here, so we can celebrate with him. Of course, he's not missing much: a few hastily wrapped gifts of really fun items like undershirts and shoe shine sponges, handmade cards, a lopsided birthday cake full of finger swipes. Yeah, I guess he's missing everything. And we are missing him.

Happy birthday, Honey, and many, many more.

"How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."
--A.A. Milne (Winnie-the-Pooh)

I Remember

2011-09-11T13:30:00.006-05:00

Just like the rest of you, I remember vividly where I was, what I was doing on 9/11. It is my generation's "Where were you when Kennedy was shot?" It is a day no one will ever forget. This year, my view of the event changed, not only because of the wide media coverage surrounding the 10-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks, but also because it is the first time my nine-year-old child has asked about that day.

"What happened?" Amanda recently came to me. What a question. I explained the events of the day as simply as I could. I used words like "tragedy" and "evil" and I told her who did what, without infusing too many gory details into her already panicked mind. Amanda took it in, and seemed more satisfied with answers, than with the bits and pieces she had picked up from television promos and school bus conversations.

Then, she did the math: "Mom, if this happened 10 years ago, weren't you scared? I mean, weren't you scared for the baby in your tummy? You must have been pregnant with me." I told her the truth-- I was, and I was.

I was producing local television news in the fall of 2001. I was about four months pregnant with my first child, but my bosses at work were still uninformed. I was sitting at my desk in the newsroom, watching the quad screen (four network channels at once) and building my rundown for the noon news. On the Today show, I saw video of a big fire at a really tall building in New York City. I'd been watching this out of the corner of my eye for some time. For whatever reason, the scene had my full attention-- when I saw, live, the second plane hit the second tower.

Within literally minutes, I grabbed my notes and headed for the control room. Even halfway across the country, we were on the air live inside of an hour, and I stayed in my chair in that control room for at least 10 or 12 hours straight, helping to lead news coverage from the airport and the Mall of America, coordinating interviews with government leaders and more. My colleague-friends came to see me from time to time, slipping me sandwiches and cookies and telling me to remember my child.

As though I could forget.

Early in the day, while I was running back and forth between the newsroom and the control room and the tape room, my mother, a middle school teacher, left me a voice mail message: "Andrea, what is going on? I'm here at work, and we don't know anything. But parents are calling and showing up and saying all kinds of crazy things." It was one of the only times I heard true fear in my mother's voice.

When I got home that night, exhausted in every way possible, I said to my husband, "All I kept thinking today was, 'What are we doing?'" When he asked what I meant, I explained, "I mean, how can we bring a child into this world? With all this going on? What's going to happen? There's no way to know. It's scary." Well, you know my husband, and you know he had a comeback: "That's exactly why we bring a child into the world now. I mean, apart from the fact that the child is already coming... We are living proof of faith in America. Nothing can get us down."

I passed along that message to my daughter, too.

This tragedy will never be forgotten. We honor the victims in the way we live. We support the rescuers by acknowledging their heroism and praying for their healing. God bless America.

I Can Hear You

2011-09-09T13:50:00.005-05:00

Sound travels on a lake. When you live along the shore, with the houses close together, as we do, you hear things. Of course, when someone is yelling at the top of her voice, there's no blaming the water.

On this beautiful summer-fall afternoon, as I sit working on the computer next to an open window, I clearly hear this:

"_____, quit yer pouting and get yer a** out here!" (_____ is four years old.) "I mean it. I am so tired of yer g**d***ed blubbering. Knock it off. I am so sick of this s***! You can't just walk off and go inside. I said, git yer a** out here! I mean, really, d*** it. Have some manners, for G**'s sake."

Yes, she is the mother. But, hey, at least she's teaching manners.

This incident reminds me of certain, ah, discussions I have from time to time with my husband. He invariably hisses, "Would you lower your voice? Do you want the neighbors to hear you?" And I yell, even more loudly, "YES I DO! Why should I be the only one who knows what you're really like?!"

Guess I could use a little work in the manners department, too.

Cabbage Patch Kid

2011-09-08T22:48:00.005-05:00

As school wrapped up in the spring, Amanda's third grade teacher handed out small, pottted cabbage plants. It was part of a national program to get kids interested in vegetable gardening. I am sure most of the cabbage seedlings went straight into the compost pile-- but not Amanda's. She expressed her desire to grow an award-winning vegetable.

She wanted to plant the cabbage in our yard... But we don't have much of a yard. Amanda said she would plant it in a pot, but I didn't think cabbage would thrive in a container. I suggested Grandma's vegetable garden. There it went, and there it flourished.

Now, to be fair, Grandma and Grandma's green-thumbed neighbor definitely did more of the day-to-day care of the cabbage plant. But, Amanda visited it regularly, prayed over it, asked questions and offered suggestions. It worked. At the end of the summer, we had this:

Amanda dubbed the cabbage "Phil." We took these photos and the stats on the cabbage-- he weighs anywhere from nine to 11 pounds, depending on the scale-- back to Amanda's third grade teacher, who sent them off to the national contest. Regardless of the final outcome, Amanda is so proud. Coleslaw, anyone?

Pedal Pusher

2011-09-07T13:29:00.002-05:00

Daddy says Madeline doesn't know how to pedal. Auntie Ellen says that's a three-year-old skill, anyway. Mommy has the proof:

School is Cool

2011-09-06T14:33:00.003-05:00

Ah, the first day of school...

This year, we have:

a second grader and a fourth grader

a post-graduate-level preschooler

a sad and lonely two-year-old

All the kids were excited to start off their school year, and you won't find any Mama Drama in Krinkeland. Sure, I'll miss having them around all day, but I am excited for all the academic adventures ahead! The best part of my day came when the girls bounded off the school bus in the afternoon and Elisabeth-- yes, Elisabeth-- pulled me inside so she could sit me down and show me her first-day papers.

What more can you ask for than, "Today I felt super duper good?"

What a Ride!

2011-09-03T22:30:00.001-05:00

Elisabeth turns eight in one week. With the holiday weekend and the start of school and Daddy's travels, it is a tough time for a birthday. But, celebrate we must. We told Libby she could invite one or two friends for a special outing. She chose the local amusement park, Valleyfair.

I thought my kids were crazy about rides, but, these fellow seven-year-old girls were maniacs! We all had a ball! All the rollercoasters... every waterslide... any ride for which they met the height requirements... There was no stopping these Wild Things!

Just to add to the day's adventure, upon our arrival at the park, I received a text message from our beloved babysitter, informing us that Madeline was running a fever of 104.5 degrees. So, we had a lot of running back and forth and rearranging and jockeying about, but, everyone kept their cool, and the babysitter and Grandma were both big helps. Maddy does not have strep throat or a UTI-- it appears to be one of those weird, 24-hour viruses that keep us parents on our toes.

By day's end, we were not on our toes. We were hardly on our feet. But it was definitely a day to remember.

Old-Time Photos

2011-09-02T21:56:00.004-05:00

One of the kids recently commented, "Mom and Dad were born way back in the 1900s." Further proving the point, Elisabeth found an old high school yearbook, began paging through it, and commented, "Boy, Dad, when you were a kid, photos were still in black-and-white." Todd explained that was not the case-- it was just cheaper to print the book that way. Libby did not buy it.

Can't Sleep

2011-09-01T20:49:00.004-05:00

Actually, I have no trouble sleeping... never do... just put my head on my pillow and close my eyes. However, when other members of my family cannot sleep, they are compelled to wake me up and tell me, "I can't sleep." Then, I can't sleep.

I was in bed, worn out, just winding down around 10 p.m., when Elisabeth padded down the hall, dragging her blanket behind her. We'd spent the last hour, maybe two, going 'round and 'round about some medical tests scheduled for her for the morning. They were not optional. She was old enough to know what was going on. It wasn't going to be fun for anyone. Libby finally calmed down enough to tell me her concerns, and to present a list of demands for making the test-taking as tolerable as possible. I took notes and assured her the plan was reasonable and I would be happy to be her advocate at the hospital-- if only she would go back to bed. She did.

As I breathed deeply and began nodding off, the telephone rang. It was Todd. I looked at the clock and saw it was just after 10:30 here; that's 5:30 a.m. where he is. Todd often has trouble sleeping when he's traveling for work. The factors: the time change, the demanding work schedule, missing his family, European hotels often not having air conditioning. So, I talked him through it the best I could and told him to pray himself off to dreamland for a couple more hours.

That's what I did, too, until-- I heard wandering feet near the door to my bedroom. "Mom, I can't sleep." 1:52 a.m. Benjamin. I knew Ben was exhausted, after a long and busy day, but he gave me every excuse in the book: tummy hurt, legs hurt, thirsty, hungry, not tired, wanted to do puzzles, wanted to play on the computer, wanted to watch television.

We got the drink. We turned on the TV, where Ben finally believed me there is nothing for a little boy to watch in the middle of the night. This went on for a while. A long while. Finally, we struck a deal where he would go back to his own bed and try hard to go back to sleep, IF I would set the alarm on his Nintendo DS so he would know when to get up. Deal. (Wink, wink.)

Ben was snoring. The clock read 5:06. I eventually went back to sleep. Right around 7:00, Madeline opened her door and called, "Mama, want out!"

Why Stay Home?

2011-08-28T15:58:00.004-05:00

Todd is packing up to leave the country this week. And, it sounds as though his travel work schedule will be more regular again-- a week there, a week here. Great, just in time for school to start. I was getting all ready to pout about it, when I had an epiphany: Just because my husband is gone, why should I sit at home here at brood about it?

So, when he goes, I am packing up the kids and going, too.

I am planning to drop Benjamin and Madeline at Grandma and Grandpa's house for a couple days, and then head out on the road with Amanda and Elisabeth. Our girls' trip will take us to visit my friend Alicia and her daughter Annie in Madison, Wisconsin. Through a series of unfortunate events and missteps, we have been missing each other all summer... all year, really. So, this will be kind of a last hurrah for all of us-- before school starts NEXT WEEK.

Wish us bon voyage!

Totally Tubular Two-Year-Old

2011-08-28T15:54:00.003-05:00

We took Madeline tubing behind the Jet Ski. There are no photos, because Todd was driving and I had to sit with her on the tube. It seemed ridiculous to have a two-year-old participating in water sports, but she begs and whines each time the older children put on their life jackets. So, this was our daredevil's turn.

I wish I had been able to record the experience, because it was pretty funny. When we first started to go, Maddy gripped the sides of the tube, got kind of a panicked look on her face and said, "Whoa!" I held her hand and said, "It's OK, Maddy, it's fun!" Then, she relaxed, smiled and said, "Oh, OK." And she threw her head back and laughed. That's one thing I've learned in motherhood: Sometimes, it's all in how you couch it.

Sick Summer?

2011-08-26T16:11:00.004-05:00

Is it just me, or does it seem like there's been a lot of sickness this summer? I can't really complain... nothing's been serious here in Krinkeland... Still, at this moment, Elisabeth is getting treatment for a UTI and Amanda is on antibiotics for strep. I bought one of those mega-packs of Lysol antibacterial wipes at Costco today-- probably an exercise in futility.

Please, pray for those in extra need of care:
*Eddie, recovering from open-heart surgery and related complications
*Wade, as the chemo continues to work, while another spot is being watched
*Julie's dad, hospitalized with pneumonia
*Meghan Leni, born August 23, and still a bit jaundiced

Baby Meghan before

Baby Meghan after

Humor Break

2011-08-24T21:23:00.003-05:00

Benjamin really likes to tell jokes:

Overheard from a visiting seven-year-old: "I totally believe in fairies, but I do NOT believe in Alaska."

Amanda: "Grandma kind of took the 'healthy' out of the peas by putting bacon in them. But, I just picked out the pieces of bacon, and, luckily, they didn't even taste like peas!"

And, even plastic family members like to take jabs at Mommy:

What a Way to Start the Day

2011-08-23T08:36:00.004-05:00

Are you looking for a fun way to start the day?

It begins with a gigantic crack of thunder followed by a swift hailstorm, at 4:56. As you squeeze shut your eyelids and tell yourself you must be dreaming, your spouse throws off the covers and says, "Get the kids-- let's get to the basement. Now!" Since your spouse never says, "Now!" you do it.

One child, in her still-asleep state, cowers against the wall side of the top bunk bed, screeching that she's too scared to move. You yank her by the ankle until you have hold of enough of her to throw her body over your shoulder. Thinking you do have the skills to become a firefighter, you tote her down two flights of stairs; she screams all the way down.

The other children find this early wake-up call very amusing. They huddle under blankets, watching the Angry Birds roll around the iPod screen. You position yourself to cover all of them, just in case The Big One hits. Your spouse is nowhere to be found, probably pacing around in a macho attempt to protect his castle.

Finally, he yells, "All clear! Come on up and go back to bed." You are surprised to find only 10 minutes have passed. You herd all the children back upstairs and into their bedrooms, where they each turn and follow you back out-- to go to the bathroom... to get a drink of water... to blow a nose... to claim, "I'm still afraid..." to demand, "DUICE!" You leave the two oldest giggling to each other, lock the youngest behind the baby gate, and surrender to the fact that the boy is going to be wandering around the property with his father, inspecting for damage.

Eventually they return, declaring there's a huge mess of branches and lake weeds and other assorted debris outside, but no real damage. Plus, they report, the one thing you were hoping would blow away in the storm-- because it's a real pain, a cramp in your style, and a great insurance claim-- is sitting right where you left it. However, the girls' clubhouse, which they spent the entire previous afternoon constructing out of cardboard and drop cloths, is a total loss.

The two menfolk plop back down in bed next to you, a mass of cold feet, snores and farts. As you lay in bed, asking, "Lord, what are you trying to tell us with all these storms?" the alarm goes off. I guess He was saying, GET UP.

All the Colors of the Rainbow

2011-08-22T22:40:00.009-05:00

Some friends around the lake celebrated the beautiful summer day with a t-shirt tie-dyeing party. Especially since they have a non-crafty mom, it's just the kind of event my kids don't want to miss. (Actually, my kids never want to miss any event. They'd come and watch paint dry, if you invited them.)

The big kids helped the little kids... The pros demonstrated for the amateurs... Benjamin threw himself-- and his tongue-- into his work.

My fingers are blue, but, alas, anything for the art.

Up, Up, Up and Away!

2011-08-21T21:44:00.005-05:00