Sugar and Spice and Puppy-Dog Tails

How does that rhyme go, that girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice and boys are made of frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails? Well, I'll tell ya, my kids are sure meeting the stereotype this week - at least in public.

Inside our house, Ellie can be a bit of a terror. She's very stubborn, and really doesn't listen to me one little bit. Sometimes it SEEMS as if she's listening, but really, it's just because she wants to be doing what I'm asking her to do anyway. And Jack, although quite hyper, is actually the little snuggle-bug at home.

Outside our doors, though? TOTAL opposite since school started a couple weeks ago. As soon as Ellie walks out the door, she becomes the cutest little princess ever. She's sweet as can be at preschool, a little dancing fairy at her gymnastics class, and even a dainty little princess like at her friend's tea party today. While Jack turns into Dennis-the-Menace-meets-Charles-Manson at school. Almost every afternoon he comes home with the dreaded "red card," which means that on the green/yellow/red spectrum of behavior, yup, guess where he ended up. I'm sure a lot of it is the big transition from preschool to kindergarten, but let's cross our fingers that his teacher doesn't get the urge to throw him out the window before he manages to make that transition.

Maybe I'll just tell her that "boys will be boys."

Yeah, I don't think that'll fly either.

Sweet and Sour

This is when she's sweet

And here? When she decides to make a fort out of my beautifully-arranged-by-author books? Yeah, not so sweet.

It Could Have Been Worse

So Jared had to travel for work somewhere fairly nearby, and suggested that we come along to hang out. And you know, my instinct was to say no - in fact, I did say no at first. Our kids just don't travel well, and I just wasn't sure if the hassle associated with overtired kids off their schedule was worth the excitement factor of southern Virginia. Hawaii? Absolutely. Caribbean? You betcha. Virginia? Not so much.

But my wifely guilt got the best of me, and off we went. (Lesson 1? Screw the wifely guilt. Save yourself.) The festivities started out with a 6-hour drive, chock full of "are we there yet"s and "he/she is touching me"s and "Mom, I dropped by crayon/DVD/drink!"s. By the time we got there, Jared had to go to work, and I set about the 3-hour job of getting the kids to go to bed. Which of course, with two hyper tots just off a 6-hour drive is problematic. You'd think these kids had never been in a hotel room, too, because every single item (including the garbage can) just fascinated them to no end. Jack even explained in detail to Ellie how to operate the elevator.

"See, Ellie [pointing to the "1" button], you push this if you want to go to the lobby"

"And then [pointing to the "2" button], you push this if you want to go to our room."

"And then [pointing to the button that has an alarm bell on it], you push this if you want to go to Taco Bell."

The next day, we headed over to Williamsburg to meet up with my brother's family to pick apples at an apple orchard. After a 45-minute detour due to our confused GPS, we arrived at the orchard - to discover that they were OUT OF APPLES. So, off we went to Colonial Williamsburg to let the kids run off some energy. Jack and his cousins had a blast, running around and discussing their strategy to defeat the Redcoats. Ellie, though, decided that it was her time to throw a fit, and spent about an hour whining/screaming/crying/complaining. Aunt Kim came to the rescue and soothed the savage beast, just in time for me to avoid my total mental breakdown.

After that, Jared had had his fill of kids, so he settled in for a nap in the hotel room. Not wanting to wrangle the kids in a cramped hotel room yet again, I hauled them out to the movies and dinner, followed by another couple of hours of the get-the-kids-to-bed dance.

The next morning the kids and I headed out bright and early at 7am to head up to Richmond to visit two of my siblings. Fortunately for my wrung-out self, the kids were great, and had a blast with their cousins. And I was treated to a lovely, delicious meal before we headed back to D.C.

All in all? Not the greatest getaway. But hey, it could have been worse. There could have been swarms of locusts. Flesh-eating virus. Four hyper, whiny kids instead of two hyper, whiny kids. See? It can ALWAYS be worse. And hey, we were all together, and we all came out of it alive. So, maybe not a complete win, but not a complete loss how about we call it a tie.

(1) Everything in the hotel was interesting to the kids - including something that they found besides the bed that I won't mention on this family blog. Suffice to say that not everyone goes to that hotel to sleep. And that much hand-washing was needed after aforementioned item was discovered. Enough said. Let's move on.


(2) Jack and his cousins, hot in pursuit of the nasty Redcoats


(3) Which required a few interventions from my brother Ben, to convince them that they should NOT throw sticks and rocks at the passing Redcoats


(4) Despite the heat and one very loud child, we enjoyed strolling through Williamsburg, and the kids got to see a fun parade and lots of horse-drawn carriages


(5) Their favorite part? The awesome climbing tree.

Favorites

Did your mom and dad have a favorite kid? Not did they claim to have a favorite kid, but hey, you can be honest here, did they really have a favorite kid? My parents did - actually, a couple of favorites there's 10 of us total). I won't list them here publicly, but they know who they are. They're sitting smugly in front of the computer right now reading this, nodding their heads and smiling and thinking, damn right, I'm their favorite.

But do I have a favorite between Jack and Ellie? I can honestly say no, I don't love or like either one of them any more or less than the other. But.......it is different. Lately I've been feeling like I need to spend more time with Jack, and hug him more, and boost his self-confidence more, and I realized recently, it's not because I favor him, it's because I worry about him more. Don't worry, don't worry, he's fine. But I just don't worry about Ellie the same way. If you know Ellie, you know what I mean. She's smart. She's confident. She's sassy. And she really could care less what you think of her. I can honestly say that I've never known a time where she's been embarrassed. I don't know that I can remember her being sad. Or really any vulnerable-type emotion. Sure, I've seen anger. I've seen frustration. I've seen a wee bit of deviousness. But nothing that outwardly shows vulnerability. But Jack. Man, that kid's an open book. For all his wackiness and class clown antics, the kid is so easily embarrassed. So easily discouraged. If Jack gets beaten in a race, he thinks "I'm not as fast as those other boys, I'm not as good." If Ellie gets beaten in a race, she thinks "how can I sabotage their bikes so I'll win next time."

And so I worry a bit. When Jack goes off to school, I worry that he might have trouble sitting still, or focusing, or that he'll karate chop the other kids and get in trouble and be sad. When Ellie marches off to school (oh yes, she marches), I worry a little bit about the other kids (because people, she'll cut you), but not about her. She's a tough little cookie.

They're both wonderful. They're both awesome. They're both infuriating and gray-hair-causing. And they'll both end up just fine in the end.

But sometimes. I just feel Jack needs a hug.

But don't worry, Ellie gets 'em too. Because I know what it's like to feel like you're not the favorite.

So heck. Hugs all around!!!

On the Other Hand

But on the other hand...

(1) Jared managed to fish my wedding ring out of the sink, along with 2 years of unidentifiable gunk

(2) Ellie's been doing great in preschool, and is absolutely beaming every day when I pick her up from school. Now we just need to get her to spell her name right - don't ask me why, she knows all her letters, but she refuses to put the second "L" in her name. And if you bug her about it, she just totally starts throwing random letters and words around -
Mom: "how do you spell your name, Ellie?"
Ellie: "Umm, E-L-A-A-A-A-poopy-face-toilet head-E"

(3) Jack got a "B.A.R.K. bone" in school yesterday. Not sure what B.A.R.K. stands for - some kind of acronym of good behavior words, I guess, but anyhoo, the kids can be handed a B.A.R.K. bone any time they're seen doing something nice. I think Jack just got one for patiently waiting or something, so it's not as if he saved a bus full of nuns or anything, but hey, it sure made him feel good. Although he's been loving school, he's not thrilled at all the sitting around (they don't have recess or snack or any other break since it's not full-day kindergarten), and his teacher has confirmed that he's "wiggly" and has trouble focusing and paying attention. The teacher appears to assume this will improve with time - I'm not going to burst her bubble and tell her that Jack's 37-year-old dad has the same problem. For now, we'll just enjoy our B.A.R.K. bone.

(4) Although it's creepy that both my 8th and 10th grade teachers sang inappropriate songs to me in the hallway, I mean....have you seen my ass? Really, can you blame them?

(5) I'm all kinds of excited about Fall cooking - I'm going to try this caramel-apple cake (http://lickthebowlgood.blogspot.com/), and this white chicken chili (http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Cha-Chas-White-Chicken-Chili/Detail.aspx), and the Pioneer Woman's pumpkin spice muffins, and Gourmet Mom on the Go's chocolate-peanut butter cake - I can't help it people, Fall is in the air!

So despite the craptastic week we've had around here, things are lookin' up! Things can't be all bad when there's chocolate-peanut butter cake in the oven!

Anyone Know a Good Plumber?

You know what would just top off this week?

No, not having my laptop crash - been there, done that this week.
Or having the family car broken - that's so last week, people.
How about my son bringing home reports of timeouts every single day from school? Oh please, that's nothing.
Or my daughter shoving her Baby Alive in my face every 3 seconds with demands to feed her bananas? Really, you can come up with something better than that.
Have my husband come home, still on European time, and keep me up all night? Come on, people, come up with something new.

No, what would really just put the cherry on top of my sundae would be to drop my wedding ring down the bathroom sink.

That would be splendid.

But hey, it could be worse.

I could still be the shy, awkward 8th grader, whose art teacher would sing this every time I walked into the room:


Or, I could be the still-shy, still-awkward 10th grader, whose Spanish teacher would sing this every time I walked down the crowded hallway


Yes, people, it could be much, much worse

Eat Your Heart Out, June Cleaver

Or if you're not old enough to remember June Cleaver, then Carol Brady
If you're not old enough to remember Carol Brady, then Marion Cunningham.
If you're not old enough to remember Marion Cunningham, then Clair Cosby.
If you're not old enough to remember Clair Cosby, then I don't know, Kitty Foreman?
If you're not old enough to remember Kitty Foreman, then get off my blog and get back to 2nd period Social Studies.
You're killing me, people, stop being productive and sit your butt down and watch some TV, for crap's sake.

If it looks like Toys R Us threw up all over our family room, it's because it pretty much did. We're still wading through Jack's birthday presents from his friends. He got a couple of gift cards, and generously agreed to share them with Ellie. She's going through her baby stage right now, and chose a Baby Alive baby. We've been feeding that stinkin' kid bananas and apple juice non-stop for the last 24 hours. It's pretty much driving me crazy. I keep trying to tell Ellie that my job as a grandmother is NOT to feed and clothe and diaper the baby, but to give her candy and let her watch TV. But somehow I keep ending up with that stinkin' baby in my lap, listening to the neverending pre-recorded messages: "more juice please!" "yummy for my tummy!" "thirsty, Mom!" Do you think it's too early to suggest boarding school for our little Baby Alive?

The Count

23
The number of kids, running,bouncing, crying, screaming, laughing, and bouncing at Jack's 5th birthday party

52
the number of cupcakes inhaled by the hungry bouncers - I'm glad to do my part in promoting good childhood nutrition

5
the number of pizzas leftover in my fridge - guess I kinda overestimated pizza consumption

3
the number of times I wanted to run and hide in the bathroom until all the maniacal bouncers had left

87,452
The number of pieces parts involved in all of Jack's presents - and no, as you probably suspect, I have no earthly idea how all the pieces parts fit together. If I could find the man (and surely, it was a man) who invented Legos, I would strangle him. Or pelt him with 87,452 of his evil little Lego pieces.

2
The number of days until Jared gets home and can put these %*#%&% toys together

1
Very happy birthday boy

You should see the other guy

Gang fight? Ninja warrior attack? Pirate battle? Alien invasion?

Um no.

What's a brave and sexy way of saying "got smacked upside the head with a hula hoop by a rogue kindergartener"?

No brave and sexy way of saying that?

Yeah, I'm afraid we'll have to come up with a sexier story than that.

Why God Created Cookie Dough

Because I drove an hour-and-a-half in rush hour traffic for a meeting...that got canceled.

Because I also drove over to my IT Department for a new laptop....that wasn't ready.

Because on my way home, I got a call from our babysitter, saying that she had gotten in a fender bender with our car (no one was hurt, thank goodness, except for our poor car), and spent the afternoon on the phone with the insurance company and tow company.

Because when we got to Cold Stone Creamery (for an ice cream treat for Jack's birthday and a medicinally required peanut butter-chocolate treat for me), we discovered that it was being used for a fundraiser for the school and the teachers were (very poorly) dispensing the ice cream, which turned out to be rather foul once dispensed.

Because it's been a rainy evening and the kids have been bouncing off the wall.

Because I'm tired, and Ellie won't stop singing about poop, and Jack won't stop karate chopping me.

And because once I finally get the little demons in bed, a backlog of work, a sinkful of dishes, and 3 unfolded loads of laundry await me.

Oh, and did I mention the 60 cupcakes I need to make for Jack's birthday party?

And that, my friends, is why God created cookie dough.

Amen.

Author, Astronaut, Renaissance Man

Happy Birthday to my big boy Jack, who turns 5 today. Our Jack, he's a Renaissance Man. He's an aspiring astronaut, an author, a spy, a chef, a superhero, a monkey, a ninja warrior, and sometimes (when he likes to wear several costumes at once), an astronaut-author-spy-chef-superhero-monkey-ninja warrior. He's a bit crazy, absolutely wacky, often hyper, sometimes mischievous, and not a stranger to the time-out-because-I'm-karate-chopping-my-friends, but he's always always sweet. That's what I love about him the most - he really, truly likes people, and wants them to be happy.

In honor of our Renaissance Man, a little bit about his recent obsession - writing stories.

Jack loves to write stories. He often tells me that he is going to be an author when he grows up - but don't worry, that hasn't curtailed his astronaut aspirations. Because see, he's going to be an astronaut author. According to him, "I'm going to fly to the moon, and then I'm going to write about it."

So every day, two or three times a day, he brings me his illustrated books and has me tell him how to spell the words in his stories.

This morning, he wrote The Alien. (That's him, flying in his rocket ship, taped to my filing cabinet to keep me company while I work.) The Alien lives in Outer Space. North Outer Space, to be exact. To get to North Outer Space, you need to fly past the moon, and that's where North Outer Space is. The Alien goes on all sorts of outer space adventures, and is quite mischievous.


Over the weekend, after we watched "Miss Potter," Jack wrote his own Peter Rabbit story.

Here's his title page.

In his story, Peter Rabbit had to go in a boat. To make sure you understand that, Jack wrote "in a boat," well, in the boat in the picture.

Fortunately, Peter Rabbit made it across the lake.

But then, he ran into a jack-o-lantern in the creepy woods. This is where the handwriting breaks down a bit and starts looking slightly serial killer-ish. But trust me, that's what it says.

But don't worry, because Peter Rabbit is now safely back home.

The End

And a happy birthday to Jack

Want! Need! Must Have! OK, well, just Want.

A vintage typewriter. Like this Underwood - my grandmother used to have one of these.

Or maybe one of these old Remington's, like my other grandmother had. My mom kept two old typewriters in the attic, and she let me use them when I was a kid. I'd pluck away on them and write amazing, spellbinding stories of adventure (or so I thought). And then I'd force my mother to read story after story after story of mine.

My mother got rid of both of those typewriters years ago, but now I want one. Must have one. May die without one. Or maybe not. But I want one.

It's my mother's fault, once again. She recommended that we watch "Miss Potter," a movie about the author Beatrix Potter (Peter Rabbit). In the movie, Beatrix had this wonderful, cozy little room with a fireplace and slanted ceilings and what-not. It looked just like the cozy little room where I'd sit with my typewriter, sipping my hot cocoa, and contemplating artistically important things.

Or in my home library, which might look like this. That's my comfy reading chair right by the fire.

Or maybe like this. You can't see it of course, but my secret passage opens up when you pull Where the Wild Things Are off the shelf.

Or even like this - of course I need a spiral staircase to access my rarest volumes, which are up high, out-of-reach of the unwashed masses. Although why I'd allow the unwashed masses into my library, I'm not really sure. Because it'd be my sanctuary.

Where I'll have wonderful little things on the wall like this Peter Pan papercut, which I found on etsy

And kitschy little bookends like these (also from etsy)

And of course I'd be wearing my cool sterling silver wax seal necklace from Uncommon Goods, which I'd take off periodically to dip into molten wax to seal all my letters (when one has such a library as mine and typewriters such as mine, of course one pens letters frequently).

And I'd order all of my reading necessities from Levenger, which has a whole catalog full of wonderfully unnecessary reading tools.

Of course, right now, this is where my books live. Stacked around all four corners of our empty little guest room. Leaned upon by, yes, you guessed it, Jared's bike.


Pardon me, but doesn't a bike belong in a garage? I guess I should be grateful that he doesn't let the bike sleep in our bed.

Instead, it sits in my imaginary library. Insulting all my books with its garishness.

But only 'til I can get my library.

Until then, I'll settle for the typewriter.

Go, Purple Pandas!!

Big-girl Ellie started her first day of preschool today. She's in the Purple Panda class, and she is VERY excited. Even though she's in the afternoon session, she insisted on getting fully dressed and wearing her backpack by 9am. She also kept reviewing all of the contingencies with me throughout the weekend - "if I need to go potty, there's a potty there that's just my size, so don't worry," "I'll put some tissues in my backpack in case I get a runny nose, so don't worry," "if someone tries to take my backpack, I'll just tell them NO!"

Jack was even excited about Ellie's first day - he excitedly told me that "Ellie and me have four things that are the same now - we both have blond hair, we both go to school, and we both have cool backpacks." I explained to him that that was actually THREE things, but that they had a fourth thing in common, too, that their mom loved them. He was happy then, not so much that I love them, but that his numbered list was correct now.


True to form, I'm utterly incapable of getting my kids to stand still and smile for a photo. Here, they decided that a first-day-of-school song was definitely in order.

And yes, they DID wear shoes to school. We're not barbarians. This is like 2 hours before school started.

Contortionists Are Freaky

Let me repeat that. Contortionists are freaky. I need to add them to the list of things that freak me out. My earlier list of things that freak me (http://jaredandlydia.blogspot.com/2010/01/lions-and-tigers-and-tiny-chairs-oh-my.html) included (1) unwashed dishes piling up in the sink, (2) feet, (3) Alan Colmes's face, (4) the word "plethora," and (5) tiny chairs. Now we need to add (6) contortionists, because they give me the heeby jeebies big time.

We saw one the other day when we went with my parents, my brother Ben, and his wife Kim to see the "Ovo" production of Cirque du Soleil. Don't get me wrong - the show was amazing - I especially loved the Cricket trampoline act, and the high-wire acrobats. Totally amazing. But then there were the contortionists - one in particular, the SpiderWoman. FREAKY.

Let's just be clear. God gave us a front and God gave us a back. They really shouldn't meet very often. Check out the clip of this contortionist (this isn't from the actual Ovo show, but it's the same woman.) Check out around minute 2:40 and tell me if you don't think it is just wrong, wrong, wrong.


Now ok, you men-folk, I know what you're going to say. But (1) get your mind out of the gutter, (2) would you kiss your mother with that mouth?, and (3) I don't care, it's still just WRONG.

(Now THIS, this was cool)


While we were watching the freaky contortionists, Jack and Ellie hung out with their cousins and had a sleepover. They had a great time, which means of course that very little sleeping took place at the sleepover.

Why I Keep Him Around

Because he puts together stuff.

OK, there are probably a few more reasons I keep him around. Wuv just might be one of those. But putting together stuff is definitely at the top of the list.

Like yesterday. We had no bleeping idea what to get Jack for his birthday next week. So yesterday, the kids and I were bored, so we just decided to go to Toys R Us and let Jack pick his own present out early. Sweet Jack first picked out a $2.99 Christmas figurine of all things, but I suggested that he perhaps keep looking and that he might find something more to his liking. Indeed he did, and he decided on the Scooby Doo Haunted Mansion. I let Ellie pick out a doll cradle too, since I felt mildly neglectful that her baby slept in a 9x13 baking pan. Plus, I needed that pan. So we came with our new loot and started opening everything up. The Haunted Mansion looked very cool, but unbeknownst to me, it had like 87,000 parts.

I tried. I really did. But after much cussing and sweating and cursing the toy industry, I gave up. Luckily, Jared came to my rescue and was able to put the evil toy together.

Which is why I keep him around.

Or at least that's what I tell him, so he doesn't get too big a head.

Stop That Bus!!!!!

OK, so I'm not that mom who is sad about her kids growing up. I'm all for it. Count me in the "yay" column for my kids getting older and more independent. So when Jack first started preschool, I happily carted him off there, and felt nothing but pride in my big-boy. And when I drop Ellie off at her first day of preschool next week, I'll probably feel the same way.

But man.

Today is Jack's first day of kindergarten.

And there's just something.

Something about watching that widdle widdle boy climbing up those big, big steps to the scary, scary yellow bus, and then watching that complete stranger drive off with him.

I swear, it took every ounce of strength I had not to chase that bus.


Big Boy Jack, ready for his first day of kindergarten. Ellie was such a sweet sister, and kept saying "yay, Jack is going to kindergarten, yay, Jack!"

Jack's buddy Michael is also starting kindergarten, and took the bus with Jack

Look at my widdle, widdle buddy! Is it too late to snatch him off the bus?

Don't worry, he survived his first day - the reason (it turns out) that he looks so confused and annoyed is that he was expecting the big yellow school bus again - and was frankly let down that it was just stinky Mom and Dad

I Heart Carbonite

Oh, I do.

In case you haven't heard of it, Carbonite is one of those online backup services, where you can back up all your computer files. You can set it up to back up your computer every day, so that if something goes hooey, you can access your files online. I'm sure there are a ton of similar services. I happen to have Carbonite. And I heart it.

Because today I killed my laptop.

Did I mention that I spilled mother's milk (aka Diet Dr. Pepper) on it?

Oh, and did I mention that my husband has warned me multiple times about drinking my mother's milk so close to the computer?

Oh gee, and did I happen to mention the little bitty, not-so-important fact that this is my company-owned laptop?

Oh, and that this is a super-busy day with lots of meetings and reports due (reports that are on my now defunct, mother's-milk-filled laptop)?

Yeah, it's been one of those days.

But oh, do I heart Carbonite.

Because I was able to log onto it with my husband's laptop (which I'm sure I'll ruin within the week, don't you worry) and restore my work files.

Of course I haven't had the nerve yet to call my IT Department and tell them that I spilled mother's milk all over my company laptop and sent it to the great junkyard in the sky.

We'll save that for another day.

For now, I'm just going to thank the heavens for Carbonite.

And keep my mother's milk way the hell away.

Ellie the Bike Rider

Meet Ellie, our latest bike rider extraordinaire. She's actually known how to ride a bike for quite some time, but just hasn't wanted to. Don't ask me why. If I understood why Ellie does things, my life would be a lot less complicated. But alas, she remains a mystery to me.

Big Brother Jack would give her a push every time she hit a big hill.

Ever the button-pusher, Ellie would call me over to help her. I'd dutifully trot on over, and right when I'd get there, she'd smile and say, "I don't need any help." Yeah, I fell for that one quite a few times. She likes to do that - call you over, then tell you never mind. Did I mention that she's a mystery to me?

Notice the tats on her arms. She picked them out. They're of her "boyfriend," Chuck E. Cheese. Maybe he understands her. Me? She's still a mystery. But hey, at least now she's a bike-riding mystery.