Drive-Around Mom

Photo NEEDS

2012-01-25T09:44:00.000-08:00

There are wants. There are needs. And then there are NEEDS.

Some people (like my mother) have gadget issues. If it was/is made by Ronco, my mother has it... I do not have that issue.

Things from Photojojo are definitely NEEDS. I have a collection of Photojojo items: lens coffee mugs, cute felt camera case, iPhone telephoto lens, instant camera decal that I get loads of compliments on...
There are more, but I'm getting uncomfortable.

But I have needs. I need a flash bounce like this for my DSLR. Definitely not a gadget. Pure quality control. Now if I wanted this camera dolly, that would be a gadget. (I do kind of want it.). This would make my iPhone so much more functional, but it's probably a gadget too.

I need this too. Purely for efficiency. And this for camera safety (the SLR version, please).

As I've said before: Tools, not gadgets. Needs, not wants.

Good Afternoon

2012-01-18T16:03:00.000-08:00

I think I want this for cruising to school and back to pick up the kids...

Happy New Year!

2011-07-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

It's not really a new year for you, but it is for me! I believe the next set of PTA officers is at the bank signing paperwork as I type.

I believe I am free!

It's been two loooooong, exhausting years. I quit blogging, most of my freelancing, and the majority of my Facebook posting in the last two years. The blog and FB posts stopped because too many people started reading into things I posted or I couldn't post the things I wanted to write about that were happening at the time. You can't really post about the hate mail, the teacher who yells at you or the fun administration conversations you have had... Well, you can't post it while you are trying to be PTA president. Maybe it's time to start writing.

Here's my Facebook post that sums it up (but doesn't give you the juicy details):

2 years, 40 meetings to lead, about 100 more to attend,

dozens of events, at least $50,000 in funds directly to

our grade school and I'm tapping out as PTA president...

My Julia project

2010-01-25T10:30:00.000-08:00

Like so many others who dabble in cooking, I received Julia Child's cookbook "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" for Christmas.

Yesterday, I set about making the much-ballyhooed Boeuf Bourguignon. It's all the rage since the movie "Julie & Julia." Everyone is doing it, right?

So I sliced and boiled salt pork. I peeled 18 pearl onions. I rendered the salt pork fat so I could brown the beef. Then transferred everything to another dish so I could brown the vegetables. Then combine it all (this is going MUCH quicker than it did in the kitchen)... then I get to the part about adding the wine. I like this part.

I've chosen a good wine because that's what Julia said to do. Pick one that you drink, not just cooking wine... so I'm thinking that I'm getting a glass of leftover wine when I put this whole thing in the oven to cook for 2-3 hours. I'm going to sit down with my wine and enjoy the moment. It's going to be worth it at that point, right?

Not so much.

The recipe calls for 3 measured cups of wine. Want to know how many cups of wine are in your average, every day bottle?

That's right -- 3 cups!

Why get my hopes up? Why not just say "Add a bottle of wine." Don't let me think there will be leftovers.

Of course, there were other bottles willing to help out...

Jack is wise beyond his years

2009-12-09T16:28:00.000-08:00

So fifth grade has lots of group projects. LOTS of group projects. I don't always understand projects ("You need a poster advertising an earthquake?") but I am hearing about them through the filter of a 10-year-old boy.

Right now Jack is in a group working on a project about the early colonies. He is a little frustrated. First the group consisted of him and 4 girls. He's not old enough to appreciate the potential of that situation. The teacher added another boy, Andrew, to the group so Jack wasn't completely overrun by the females.

The group has to come up with a song for their colonies (they have the middle colonies in case you were wondering). I don't quite understand why they need a song, but I'm just a mother. What do I know...

There is some serious in-group conflict right now. The girls can't decide which song best represents their colonies: "It's a Small World"? "New World"? A Taylor Swift song? The Doo-Dah song (Jack's title. I have no idea)?

I naively asked, "What do you and Andrew want as a song?"

"Mom," Jack sighed. "We are boys. We get no say. It's just not natural for the boys to make the decisions..."

The female/wife part of me says he'll have a successful marriage... The mother part of me thinks he might need a male teacher soon...

My favorite time of year, so far

2009-09-24T08:02:00.000-07:00

The lovely thing about Southern California in September/October -- when we aren't on fire or dreading mudslides because fire burned up the vegetation that keeps the dirt on the hills -- is the weather. It's still warm (even HOT at times), sunny and divine.

We've been enjoying the pool after school on many days. Yes, we have 18 practices, homework, speeches, Cub Scout events and PTA meetings, but somehow we manage to slip in an hour or so floating in the pool. It's been lovely.

It's my favorite thing right now. Me and my boys just floating and chatting about the day. Rarely is anyone else at the pool. It's calm and cool. We drag out the noodles and cruise around. Neil does his impersonation of Michael Phelps. There's some playing with boats, especially in the jacuzzi.

The boys take turns telling me things: describing PS2 Madden Football plays in detail, reporting on who did what in class today. Sometimes they just swim up to me and I get a kiss or a hug for no reason other than it's a good day.

Who says we don't have seasons in Southern California? Sneaking in pool time before it's gone is the best time of year.

PTA

2009-09-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted to this blog lately because most of what I have to say involves PTA. That's what takes up the majority of my days. It's 24/7.

And I'm not sure it is fair or right to complain about others, list the outrageous things people say to me or about me, or the times I've been yelled at by teachers, fellow volunteers, etc.

At least I'm guessing you shouldn't when you are in charge... Let's just say: "I HAD NO IDEA!" and when I can mentally justify putting it in print the stories will be good.

Do I just write what happens and let the reader decide? Do I just let it all slide so it doesn't get worse? Does putting it in print on a blog the same as drawing a battle line?

How do I start an anonymous blog?

Neil is a helper

2009-08-27T13:59:00.001-07:00

So I'm working at the school book fair after school. The boys -- mine and their friend Travis -- are working on homework in a corner.

Within five minutes, Travis comes over and tells me he has finished all his homework. Now, Travis had a lot of work. The week's homework plus the work he missed in class yesterday when he was out. I'm pretty sure he hasn't finished his homework.

"Let me see it," I say and walk over to where they were working.

Neil sees me coming and proudly jumps up and shows me the pages he finished for Travis, "I did the squirrel pages!"

Great.

Today's life lesson is about cheating.

Outsmarted

2009-08-19T08:47:00.000-07:00

The kids caught us trying to cheat at Design Star. Damn those public schools, actually teaching basic addition...

Jack started totaling up the two lampshades ($9 each), the curtain rod and curtains (more than $9) and we were over budget. He made me put back the new quilt and pillow shams for the bed...

Dean and I then tried to use some decals I bought ages ago on clearance. They are very retro circles and make a cool design. I'd show you a photo, but they all peeled off the wall and left funny marks on the paint...

The kids won by default. They made a "man-cave" out of their playroom with a $19 table and $1 cushions for their kid chairs.

They believe they are living in the lap of luxury -- something soft under their butts and somewhere to put their feet up.

Let the competition begin

2009-08-15T10:58:00.000-07:00

We've been enjoying Design Star as a family. I like that it's not football, baseball or collegiate lacrosse. The male members of the family like the competition part. It's a win-win for family viewing.

It gets ugly too. The boys are quite vocal with that heartless criticism that children have. Neil likes the outrageous, glitzy stuff. Jack wants everything unbreakable so scooters and footballs are allowed in the room... He has quite gotten over Mom banning scooters, bikes and all sports equipment from the house when we redid the floors.

Jack will do almost anything if it is a competition. Neil will do anything that Jack is doing.

So in a desperate attempt to get them to clean up their playroom, we challenged the kids to a Design Star competition. They get the playroom. We get our bedroom (which I should admit is worse than their playroom but I won't).

Each team has $25 at Ikea and they can use anything else from around the house (within reason). Dean and I are already planning on cheating. It's our wallet.

Any questions?

Neil had one: "How much is a mini fridge?"

August has been rough on the kids

2009-08-02T19:20:00.000-07:00

I shouldn't be allowed to talk to the kids...

Jack noticed that a friend of his was starting to grow facial hair. Just the tiniest bit, but it is there. This friend is a year or so older and you can hear his voice starting to change. Here comes adolescence young man!

"That's what happens as you get older. Your body starts to change," I was jumping all over this "teachable moment."

"Your body changes because you are getting ready to become an adult," I'm smiling to myself thinking how wise I am to casually talk to my son, let him know I can answer his questions, etc.

"As you get older there's lots of changes, but your voice will get deeper, you'll need to wear deodorant because your body produces odor and hair begins to grow on your body."

"You mean I'll get armpit hair?" Jack seemed excited about the idea.

"Yes, and other places too," I answered.

"Where?"

"On your face like your friend, some guys get chest hair, and ..."

That's when Jack's eyes grew wide and he fled from the room.

Teachable moment over.

What subject will I bring up to torture the kids tomorrow?

Dawning of a new month

2009-08-01T09:28:00.000-07:00

So it is August 1 and I've had a long enough vacation... though I don't feel very rested. I am in full planning, working, crazy mode for my first year as PTA president. I still hesitate to type that. Am I in denial? I'm glad to work hard for the school my kids attend. I love that PTA raises funds for P.E., music, computer lab, and this next year for an art teacher. I love that we plan fun activities that my kids will remember when they grow up ("My school used to ..."). Hopefully we make them happier, more well-rounded people.

But my old self -- you know the one before marriage and kids and the house in the suburbs -- well, that self would be mortified. PTA president is about as suburb as you get -- as far as stereotypes go.

Bring on the identity crisis.

And I've spread the joy this morning.

I woke up with the realization that today was August 1. New month, new beginnings, loads of work ahead. Gonna threaten the kids with no video games and TV during the school week (Dad gasped). Gonna make everyone read a book before school starts. Gonna make the kids cry.

I pointed out that today was Aug. 1 and school starts on Aug. 13...

Neil responded with "Are you serious?!" He's going into first grade this year and clearly, he can count how many days of freedom he has left.

Jack, who is going into fifth grade, just moaned. He's pre-teen ready. He wants to grow up to be a couch potato.

So now the kids are upset, Mom doesn't know who she is, and Dad is hiding upstairs painting the bathroom.

Hello August!

Team Yerem

2009-06-24T13:57:00.000-07:00

If I had 8 kids, I would make the family do this.

I hate when we overpay for the phone...

2009-06-19T09:33:00.000-07:00

Government at its best:

Los Angeles County government has more than 8,000 phones that never ring. The annual cost to taxpayers? At least $1.5 million and climbing.

Cold is good

2009-06-19T07:49:00.001-07:00

Five days after the last post, our fridge was back thanks to a very helpful repairman. I'm very please with myself for NOT trying to fix it ourselves. If I had followed the advice of the one guy who fixed his fridge, via Google, I would have ordered the wrong $200 part.

The control panel did go bad and now Neil has a nice, useless, hunk of electronics to add to his homemade Transformer costume he's been working on. Neil has been collecting boxes, plastic tubs, etc., and piecing together his best guess at what all the new Transformers are looking like. My contribution has been to cut finger holes and I believe I'm on the hook to paint it when he gets all the parts.

Taking one for the team

2009-06-08T12:05:00.000-07:00

I'm eating ice cream. And from the looks of things, I might be eating a lot of ice cream -- quickly.

The ice cream is melting. My fingers are sticky. The refrigerator repair man has been here and still the fridge is not looking good.

We are in reboot mode right now.

After the refrigerator repairman left, I did what I should have done in the first place. I Googled the problem.

We fixed the television -- twice, I might add -- by relying on Google and YouTube videos. Thank you hexagontaginal for your assistance with the colorwheel.

Google has diagnosed our fridge with either the need to reboot or the need for a new control board.

I'm rooting for the reboot because then we'll be done and I won't have to search YouTube for someone who has replaced their control board on the their refrigerator as well as a place to buy one.

Meanwhile, I've shoved everything I can in the little freezer in the garage. I've given up hope on the eggs, sour cream and juice in the refrigerator side... and I'm eating the ice cream that wouldn't fit in the little freezer.

Notice I'm not making myself an omelet with those eggs...

Numbers

2009-06-03T11:07:00.000-07:00

Since we last chatted, I've been installed as PTA president, my husband went to Canada for four days (on business, not because I became PTA president), the kids had 3 baseball games, 4 practices, 2 den meetings and several play dates. We've gone to open house, a school award ceremony, various meetings and helped at school movie night. I've sent out letters for the teacher gift and the class party (separate letters of course) for Jack's class, worked on next year's PTA budget and calendar, worked the school book fair and I'm sure done other stuff I can't remember.

What's that? A week's worth?

And there's lots more to do before the school year ends...

Send help.

Rock regrets

2009-05-26T14:36:00.000-07:00

oh, it is so very wrong as I listen to my now 10-year-old singing "Can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk..." as he plays Rock Band...

"I didn't mean to call you that..."

"Can you tell me why my car is in the front yard and I'm sleeping with my clothes on..."

The kids giggle like it is sooo goofy and so funny. Like it could never happen.

Should I tell them about college?

Making music videos

2009-05-21T08:52:00.000-07:00

I want to do this for family and friends! It is so much fun (Thank you Cup of Jo, which is a blog name I LOVE):

Brian & Eileen's Wedding Music Video. from LOCKDOWN projects on Vimeo.

We should be Luddites

2009-05-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

About a week ago our television (yes, the big expensive one. not the little one with the VCR that cost almost nothing and we've had forever) started making an odd noise. It was a slight hum at first and then...

BAM!

It's a loud, raging, angry TV noise that forces me to shut it off and run with the children, screaming for Dean to do something.

Like any modern woman, I Google "Samsung DLP TV making loud noise" and after reading one or two blogs, I diagnose our problem as the color wheel.

I love Google. Chances are that someone somewhere has had the exact same problem as you -- only they have blogged about it or, even better, posted 5 instructional videos to YouTube about it.

We've replaced the lamp in the TV and that was a few-minute job. It was great. So we were feeling pretty cocky. We've got instructions. We've got videos. We can do this! We order the part and wait for its arrival...

Do we read the instructions? Do we watch the videos? No. We just assume it will be like the lamp ...

The part arrived last night so we print out the instructions and hit the bookmarked YouTube. Sure, it's almost 10 p.m., but how long could this take?

Uh. The instructions are 17 pages. Slight sinking feeling.

FIVE videos? Really? Sinking lower.

This might take a bit longer than the lamp.

Dean starts following the videos. 14 screws to take off the back of the TV. Done.

Casings and frames and ribbon connector wires. Don't touch anything that looks like it MIGHT have to do with your screen picture. Done.

Slowly, but surely we follow the instructions step-by-step-by-step. We've started reading the comments on the instruction blog. We might have to remove a jumper... No idea what a jumper is, but we can Google that later. We might have the blue and red cables mixed up. It seems a lot of folks did that. Apparently, there's also a large contingent that didn't have sound after this procedure...

The sinking feeling has not left, but by now we are knee-deep in expensive TV parts, cables and a color wheel that looks oh-so-very fragile.

By midnight, we could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but was it a TV picture in high definition or just a well-lit blank screen?

Once everything was back together, we had to figure out the wires that go from the Wii to the TV, and the DVD player to the TV, and the satellite to the TV and some other wires we aren't sure where they are from but they are on the TV now...

The moment of truth....

HIGH DEFINITION TV!!! Victory!

Family fun

2009-05-13T11:01:00.000-07:00

This is just fun: Awkward Family Photos

I need to hunt up the one where my Dad is flipping us all off for telling stories about him.

Jack Unplugged

2009-05-12T17:07:00.000-07:00

The best thing in the world is going on in my family room right now.

Jack is singing "Eye of the Tiger" at the top of his lungs into the microphone on Rock Band. Yes, Jack -- my shy, quiet, serious one -- is having a blast. He's singing and singing and talking into the mic like he's a rock star. There's not a tinge of self-consciousness. No shyness. Just playing. It's amazing.

I LOVE Rock Band. Who knew it would give me this Jack:

"Thanks for supporting us guys!" He yells to the imaginary crowd with a wave of his hand and followed by "Thank you very much!"

"You guys are great. Peace out!"

Rock on!

Amazingly, we are still alive

2009-05-07T22:11:00.000-07:00

Please note: My husband is out of town. Something weird has to happen. It always does.

Yesterday, I was blowing dry my hair when the hairdryer made a popping noise.

I looked at it and sparks were shooting out of it. Not a good sign.

I dropped it on the floor. I was downstairs so it was on tile, not the linoleum we have upstairs). Then flames started coming out. The signs are not getting better.

Don't you hate those moments where YOU are the adult and you better think of something fast or we are all going up in flames and this is gonna be a tough one to explain when Dean gets home to what remains of our home...

I unplugged it and the flames when away. Clearly I'm a firefighter at heart.

It was pretty exciting. The cord burned all the way through. The room filled with smoke.

And now I'm pretty sure Jack will NEVER let me blow dry his hair again.

Later, Jack and I get home from school and we hear this noise. A non-stop beep like an alarm but a mini-alarm.

We look out back. We listen out front. Nothing. Where is the noise coming from?

Not from the toy baskets. Not from the closet of toys...

We narrow it down to the garage. I'm trying to figure out what alarm thing we have? I know smoke detectors (see earlier part of the story) and this isn't a smoke alarm sound.

The sound appears to be coming from the garage door control screwed to the wall. I try pulling the wires. Nothing (I'll be thankful for that later).

I push on buttons. Noise is still going.

I try to yank the wires out again to get it to stop. The wires don't budge (thank you again).

I unscrew the thing from the wall (after searching for a screw driver. Dean, please put away your tools.). Once I have it off the wall, I realize that is not what is making noise. I'm grateful that I was not successful at pulling the wires out. Dean only has to put it back on the wall.

Great. What the heck is it?! I'm more than a little worried by now. It must be carbon dioxide and there's an alarm built into the walls that I don't even know about. Or maybe it's another kind of airborne poison and the house is warning us...

It seems to be in the rack of tools, dusters and various other contraptions that sits next to the garage door controls.

I start ravaging that rack. Thing after thing after thing. Do we really need THREE swifter dusters?

I think some of these vacuum attachments are to vacuums we haven't owned in years. There are several things I can't identify.

What could the sound be and how long before we die or something blows up?!

Ah.... I find it!

The culprit is a BBQ fork someone gave us years ago that measures the done-ness of your BBQ-ed meat. The battery is getting low and it wanted to let us know... with a continuous beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep that encourages high blood pressure.

I'm just gonna lie down until Dean gets home.

One day at a time

2009-04-30T08:10:00.000-07:00

I'm heading to the big PTA conference in San Jose this weekend. (What happens at PTA Convention stays at PTA Convention, people...)

I have been writing out my schedule so my husband can follow it for ONE day:

6:50 a.m. wake up kids. Use all the negotiating skills you have to get them out of bed.

7:20 a.m. leave to take Jack to school. He needs lunch, water, homework and his glasses.

10 a.m. leave to take Neil to school. He needs to wear red, white and blue. He needs his homework folder. He needs to have the turtle book (make sure you read it again before you go). He needs lunch, backpack and the photos for the end-of-the-year project.

2:15 p.m. -- Both boys get out of school. If you want to walk in to pick them up, you need to park before 2 p.m. otherwise you might as well walk from home.

4:30 p.m. -- Jack has batting practice.

Dean's lucky. There's only one practice. There are no play dates. No other kids to drop off at their homes, etc.

He doesn't have to do the things I do on this day because it is my LIGHT day: laundry, clean the bathrooms, shop for groceries, prepare a team snack, work in two classrooms, handle any PTA or church commitments. Next week is Teacher Appreciation week so he gets out of that too.

Hopefully, no one gets sick ...

You're gonna read it and you're gonna like it...

2009-04-28T19:44:00.000-07:00

I have always been an enthusiastic reader.

In sixth grade, I remember carrying around a white box with 5 or 6 books in it. I carried it everywhere I went. I wanted to make sure I had something good to read at all times (and I wanted to have options). Clearly I was a social magnet...

In college, I would force friends to read Joan Didion. Salvador was the first journalism essay book I read. I loved it. While I don't force people to read her anymore, I still love Joan Didion.

My favorite childhood book was From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. My Dad didn't travel much when I was a kid, but when he did he would always bring me home a book. One trip he brought home this one.

It's about a brother and sister who run away from home and hide in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for weeks. They discover art, life and so many things.

I still force 9 year olds to read it. I've given away dozens of copies of the book over the years. I haven't been able to find the original one my dad gave me years ago (I didn't loan it to you did I?), but I do still have a copy in the house.

Recently, it occurred to me that I have a 9-year-old in this house.

Guess what he is reading next? What are my chances of him actually liking it?

Don't weigh me down

2009-04-25T09:08:00.000-07:00

We are getting ready for the Little League carnival and picture day. The boys really want baseball cards this year with their photos.

I actually measured their height and weight this year instead of making it up like I did last year...

Jack jumped on the scale -- 84.4 pounds.

"Yeah!" he said with a double fist pump.

I NEVER have that reaction when I get on the scale.

"Someday I'm going to be 200 pounds," he said. Great. Some kids what to go to college, become doctors, etc. My kid wants to weigh 200 pounds.

"If I want to play professional basketball, Mom, I'm going to have to weigh at least in the hundreds..." he says.

Got to have goals.

Neil weighed in at 56.6 pounds.

Are we there yet?

2009-04-24T07:33:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday was kite day for the Cub Scouts. We all piled into a big ol' SUV with another family. It was crowded with 4 kids, 4 parents and all the crap you could find to drag to the beach plus kites.

As with any trip involving children, part of the way there they start asking "Are we there yet?"

I think that question is self-answering... Does it look like we are there yet?

But kids will keep questioning. Why are they not this relentless about homework?

Jack asks, "Are we half way?"

"What about three-quarters of the way?" his friend Graeme asks.

Neil, the younger brother who doesn't want to be left out, pipes in, "Are we 3/dimes there yet?"

Just get dressed

2009-04-21T09:01:00.000-07:00

What to wear? What to wear? What to wear?

Jack started this morning by hurling his body onto the bed at 6:20 a.m. The resulting bounce woke me up. Hello.

He couldn't find jeans. Of course he couldn't, they are folded neatly in his dresser. The organization was disorienting to him.

But those jeans wouldn't do. This pair is too baggy. This pair is too tight. This pair is the wrong color blue. The skinny jeans (that cost a fair bit of money) aren't worth wearing because he might have to control his body enough to not get a hole in the knee. Why wear clothes you can't trash on the playground?

It was over 90 degrees yesterday. I suggested shorts. Apparently that was disorienting also. It's the twice-yearly adjustment to shorts or long pants (depending on the season). My kids will be the last to start wearing shorts and the last to stop wearing them.

Meanwhile, Neil is trying to get his jeans to slip down his hips enough to reveal his underwear. Great.

"Mom, that's what skaters do..."

"We don't know any skaters."

"Mooooooommmmmmm....."

I bought Jack a new pair of shorts and both boys new t-shirts for the coming Scout Idol pack meeting (Cub Scouts will be doing Guitar Hero, playing their own instruments and I believe one den is planning a ZZTop Reunion). Target had some Woodstock options. Though Jack is hoping for a shirt with The Who on it...

Neil, who is not an official Cub Scout, has mentally prepared his outfit. He wants black jeans, black shoes, a black shirt with no sleeves ("because that's what rock stars wear, Mom. They don't have sleeves.").

"And I want something we don't have in this house," Neil adds.

"What would that be?"

"I NEED a silver thing. It hangs down."

What is he talking about?

"It's a silver thing and it goes from your pants to your pocket." Neil shows me his belt loop and then traces the route to his pocket.

Does he want a wallet on a chain? I'm seriously grimacing here.

"You'll have to show me."

Neil also wants a mohawk or longer hair because, again, that's what rock stars have.

This sparks an argument over whose hair is more rock star like. Jack wins because he can completely cover his eyes. Neil can only partially cover his eyes.

Neil is not interested in the groovy guitar shirt Mom bought. But Jack does like the black shirt with the white outlines of instruments. One out of two isn't bad and while Jack wouldn't wear the shorts to school, he did try them on.

And all I can think is how this doesn't even compare to the girl stories I have heard...

Life questions

2009-04-17T13:03:00.000-07:00

Because I live near a NEW Target and I have a fist full of gift cards, the pressing question in my life right now is ....

Do I want Guitar Hero or Rock Band for the Wii?

One more day

2009-04-13T13:04:00.000-07:00

The Monday after Easter should be a holiday. The kids are tired. I'm tired. I'm sure the teachers are tired...

We could use a break from Spring Break!

Under siege

2009-04-08T10:58:00.000-07:00

Spring Break was going great until these guys invaded. They have conquered the dining room table, the stairs and the upstairs hallway...

There is no escape.

Check out the new lids

2009-04-06T10:28:00.000-07:00

We had a big Sunday. In addition to the language lesson, we went shopping for Easter outfits. I'm old school when it comes to new clothes (Easter, Christmas and beginning of the school year are mandatory new outfit time). Though the matching years are going out of the window. Turns out, everyone has his own fashion personality and it is not Mom's.

Neil is the true fashionist in our family. You should see that 6-year-old in a dressing room mirror.

He checks his front. He checks his back (Don't want that kindergarten butt to look fat.).

He does a couple poses. He has an imaginary conversation with someone.

Only then does he decide if the outfit passes the test.

This year Neil decided that he needed a hat for his Easter outfit. We are not talking a baseball hat (which is Jack's only definition of a hat). And we are not talking the caps his Pa likes to wear.

We are talking a true, rat-pack kind of hat.

After a day of shopping, Neil has two hats. He even convinced Dean and Jack that they needed hats.

Now my boys look like they are starting a ska band...

This is Neil at Legoland. He's not taking the hat off. I'll download one of the three of them soon.

Sunday education

2009-04-06T10:18:00.001-07:00

We went out for lunch after church on Sunday . Just the four of us. I was sitting next to Neil and we were playing games to keep busy until the food arrived.

Neil kept pushing against my side. He was pushing and pushing and finally, I snapped. "Stop shoving against my boob!" I know, I know. Nice mothering I'm doing.

Neil looked at me, furrowed his brow as he figured, and then he asked, "How do you spell 'boob'? Is it b-o-b?"

"No. How do you make the oo sound?" Why resist a teaching moment, right?

"B-o-b spells Bob," Dean piped in.

Jack was too busy giggling to himself to offer any assistance.

"It's b-o-o-b!" Neil shouted. Great, it's a teaching moment for the whole restaurant.

And thus began a big boob discussion at our table. Some members of this family are still calling each other boobs...

They start so young

2009-03-31T11:39:00.000-07:00

I worked the kindergarten spring party this morning. Woo hoo! I was in charge of the jellybean sorting and graphing table. (Sadly the jelly beans did not taste that good, even before the kids mauled them).

Everyone is being good and putting their green jelly beans in one pile, the pink ones in another pile, etc. Then they have to color blocks on the graphing page for each jelly bean (i.e., I have 6 green jelly beans, I color 6 blocks in the green row. Green is Neil's favorite color right now by the way.)

Two little boys start to argue over the blue/purple ones. "No it's purple." "No it's blue." I suggested they each decide for themselves and stop arguing.

"But they are arch enemies, Mom," Neil says.

"What?"

"They are arch enemies," he repeats.

The boys look at me smiling and nodding.

"You are in kindergarten. You can't have an arch enemy yet..."

That's when at least 6 boys turn to me all saying, "I have an arch enemy..."

Kindergarten is not what it used to be.

Skippy

2009-03-30T09:26:00.000-07:00

I don't think I can post the whole video I made for Skip, but here's a cute photo of him when he was little...

Just write

2009-03-30T09:23:00.000-07:00

Did you think I was held captive in the new Target? I wasn't. Just busy and lazy about writing...

And then I kept thinking that I need to come back with something spectacular to make amends for my neglect... But there is minimal spectacular in trips to Target, the Little League field and

I decided I should just write. So I'm writing...

Excuses, excuses

2009-03-16T09:10:00.000-07:00

My apologies for not posting. When I'm not at the new Target, I am with visiting family. Sometimes I am with visiting family at the new Target.... Life is good.

My brother Skip, his wife Katie and my niece Emily are visiting. We've been playing a lot.

There's been paint. There's been cake. There's been trips to Target...

When I come back I'll post photos and go on and on about the movie I made for my bro's 40th... I know it's rude to boast, but I might be a genius...

Suburban oasis

2009-03-06T08:47:00.001-08:00

It stands there gleaming on the hill. Shiny. New. Fully-stocked. A symbol of suburban perfection.

The sun shines brighter on it than anywhere else. Is that a halo I see?

It's been teasing us for months. It's red bulls-eye a homing beacon.

Minivan moms and SUV SAHMs have been circling its smoothly paved lot for weeks. Waiting. Waiting. We'd make eye contact from our oversized vehicles. Let us in!

We've admired the perfectly lined parking lot, the little grassy area with a bench, the convenient shopping cart return areas... Is that a Starbucks we see inside?

The sign on the door says "Opening March 8" but would it open early? Would the brand-new Target, just a 6 minute drive from my house, open early? Could I find designer products at reasonable rates? A new pair of sunglasses? Band-aids? More socks? Could I get all of this early and without a drive across town or to the Valley?

I was there on Monday... pretending to go to the Bed, Bath and Beyond that was open. But my minivan instinctively turned toward the Targay. It's like a magnet. I super-powered, high intensity, JPL kind of magnet...

A quick tour of the parking lot proved it was still not open. The Lowes tried to tempt me with its giant "Open" sign, but it held no appeal.

My sons have been teasing me that I'm getting ONLY Target gift cards for my birthday. I hope it's true.

And then yesterday... a friend had big news she had seen Judy Somebody with Target bags in her Suburban. Are those Target bags, my friend asked? New Target Target bags?

The new Target was open!!!! Hallelujah!! Hallelujah!!

Should we go now? We looked at the mass of kids around us? We mentally calculated the various practices, scout meetings and activities we had to shuttle them to... Target would have to wait.

But Dean met me at Neil's practice. And Jack was with his coach practicing pitching... And I had a minivan, no kids and $20 burning a hole in my pocket.

Whatever would I do? Sorry my friend. I can't wait. You are on your own...

The parking lot was packed. Word gets out fast.

I've waited so long. Don't let it be a nightmare!

I breathed a sigh of relief as I walked through those red-trimmed automatic doors. A little girl was singing a song, "New Target is open. New Target is open. New Target is open."

My heart skipped a beat.

The new carts glide with perfection. Every shelf glistens with new products relatively untouched. No knicks on the furniture, no wiped out shelves, no coffees left unattended on random shelves.

Eager cashiers waited with no lines. Managers walked around double checking everything. The coffee bar was fully staffed and stocked.

Employees were busy lining up products in uniformed rows, evenly spaced. Can I help you find something?

Oh, I've found it already.

Should I buy the Orla Kiely designer gear that the other Target is already sold out of?

Should I buy an untouched side table cube for the family room?

Thanks to Target, I served up Archer Farms tortilla chips in a beautiful new melamine bowl last night. The perfect accompaniment to taco night.

And when I told Neil that the new Target had opened. The six-year-old asked, "Did you cry?"

Almost...

Early to school

2009-03-05T07:26:00.000-08:00

A week home sick has given Neil a new appreciation for school. He's up early, dressed within minutes. He has his backpack, lunch pail and sweatshirt lined up and ready to go. And each morning he asks me if he is going to school, just to make sure. He does not want to miss it.

The greatest day EVER

2009-02-28T19:22:00.000-08:00

The boys are curled up on the couch. Dad is slumped in a chair. And here I am.

Exhaustion has silenced us -- though we are all quietly proud of the marathon of youth sporting events that occurred today.

We are in the youth sports no-man's land zone: one sport hasn't ended, but another has begun.

Hello baseball! Scooch over basketball, gotta make room...

Jack woke up at 4 a.m. at the prospect of this day.

Neil and I left the house at 7:15 a.m. to make his 8 a.m. basketball game (gotta be there a half hour early, don'tcha know). It was his last game (several assists, some seriously good defense and a layup that was beautiful).

After basketball, we met Jack and Dean at the baseball field. Jack's game started at 9 a.m. Jack pitched three innings (9 strikeouts, and yes, I am bragging but I gave birth to him). Double A baseball is all about stealing. Lots and lots of stolen bases.

Jack's game ended at 11 a.m., just in time for Neil's end-of-the-basketball-season party. Pizza for everyone!

Neil got a pizza, trophy and some junk from the little vending machines. Life is good.

Then it was off to Neil's 1 p.m. baseball game (gotta be there a half hour early of course!). Rookie league is fun. It's machine-pitched baseball. I forgot how long Rookie games are... everyone bats, everyone goes around the bases, most innings are called because of the maximum number of runs per team... It takes a loooooong time.

But hey, we had time. Just enough time to run home, let the dogs out to run for a bit and get ready for Jack's 5 p.m. basketball game.

A good game of basketball too. You don't have to read this, but just for the Yerem family history books... Jack had three baskets, 4 assists and he was a defensive machine. He also took a shot right in the face, right to the brand new glasses on his face. Those of you who wear glasses can feel his pain. Those of you who have to pay for your kids' glasses can feel my pain. Mom had a minor heart attack. The sports goggles will be in next week.

And so ends the GREATEST SPORTS DAY EVER -- according to my sons...

Progress

2009-02-25T11:47:00.001-08:00

Not bad for my first try, huh? It is actually the third or fourth, but my first finished try... I think it actually looks like Neil.

I'm thinking this striped back ground and a black frame. Let's see how long that takes.

Something creative

2009-02-24T16:32:00.000-08:00

OK. I did shop online. I bought these. I think they are going in the living room on a wall. We'll see how that turns out.

I did manage to yell at the kids. Does that count as "something creative"? I didn't think so either.

Today I'm working on silhouettes. Just like the kind your mom and dad bought of you at Disneyland so many years ago...

So far we are on version 3. The kids are getting a little annoyed with this project.

Did I mention that Jack is home sick too?

Sick and Tired

2009-02-23T09:06:00.000-08:00

Speaking in Facebook-ese:

JoAnn is tired of sick kids and rain.

Neil is out of school sick. He's had a fever on and off since Friday when I picked him up from school. He was whimpering and complaining of a headache when he got in the car... the rest is a long weekend on the couch with a sick kid on top of me.

We'll be going to the pediatrician shortly.

I need to do something besides sick-kid duty. This afternoon (somewhere before, after or during school pick up, practice drop off for Jack and making dinner for everyone) something creative is going to happen. Don't know what it is, but it's gonna happen.

Or maybe I'll just shop online...

Vocabulary enrichment

2009-02-17T12:38:00.001-08:00

Neil's new favorite word is "buttocks." Thank you iCarly. I appreciate it.

Neil loves the sound of it: "buttocks"-- "buuuuuttttocks"-- "buttoooooooocks"-- "buuuuttttttoooooccccckkksssss"

Try it. It is mildly entertaining.

Of course, for Neil it is massivly entertaining. I've caught him humming a little buttocks song as he plays a video game or as he's building a LEGO thingy.

I've even heard him sitting a Clone on another Star Wars-related character and saying, "How do you like my buttocks?"

The junior high years are going to be very long and very painful for mom.

Actually stay-at-home momming

2009-02-13T10:25:00.000-08:00

Video games, forts, dart guns, Legos and freshly baked cookies are happening at my house today.

No practices. No school work. No fundraising panic.

Just pajama day.

Stressed out

2009-02-08T20:39:00.000-08:00

Rain postponed the school Tri-R-athon on Friday so we'll be Reading, Running and 'Rithmaticking tomorrow morning...

I'd like it to be over. Will it rain? Will it snow? Will we raise any money?

The economy stinks, the event got postponed, the principal will be off campus for a meeting... will the whole thing fall apart?

Not that I'm panicking ahead of time...

Call me Steven Spielberg

2009-02-06T21:25:00.000-08:00

I made a movie today. That's what happens when you upgrade your Mac and actually take a workshop so you know how to use the software.

I'm crazy like that.

See when I first got my Mac, I played and played and hobbled my way through the programs. Macs are pretty easy and you can sort of figure it out.

But it seemed each time I made a slideshow or a dvd, I did it a slightly different way. I was just guessing each time.

So I signed up for a class -- which was yesterday. Today I made a movie of Neil's t-ball experience last spring. I even made myself cry. He is awfully cute and awfully little. And now he is the star of his own movie.

It's amazing what a little bit of information will do for you.

800 Ring Pops

2009-02-04T08:05:00.001-08:00

It takes approximately 19 minutes to purchase, pay for and load 800 Ring Pops from a big box store into your minivan. And it only cost $191.20. It seems like 800 of anything for that amount of money is reasonable.

Why do I need 800 Ring Pops, you ask?

I have a serious addiction to them, and I don't want to run out. I have a special closet filled with them. It's temperature-controlled.

Not really. But you knew that. The special closet is reserved for coffee and chocolate.

The Tri-R-athon is coming. R you ready? I'm not, but I'm getting there. There will be Reading, Running and 'Rithmatic-ing on Friday -- all in the name of raising money for P.E., computer and music education at the kids' school.

That is -- of course -- if there is not the torrential downpour predicted... Please let the weathermen/women/whatever be wrong. Please let the Doppler 7000 not have anything to share. Please let it hold off until 3 p.m. on Friday. I'm sorry if it ruins your weekend plans, but I have a fundraiser to run here.

Every kid gets a Ring Pop if they turn in a pledge form and funds for the fundraiser. It's amazing how hard kids will work for a Ring Pop. If I were going to deal something to children, it would not be drugs. It would be Ring Pops and Nerds Ropes...

Ring Pops garner a great deal of attention. I was almost mugged in the lower grades when kids saw me delivering Ring Pops to their classrooms. Suddenly they wanted to know what they had to do to get one. Suddenly they had heard of the Tri-R-athon.

Visual motivation is good.

Put down the scissors

2009-01-29T19:43:00.000-08:00

Best moment working in the kindergarten class yesterday:

During a discussion of baby penguins and how they hatch from eggs, one little boy informed the class that "all babies come from seaweed." The teacher paused.... where to go with that one...

"My dad says you need seaweed to make babies..." the little boy repeated.

Teacher was not gonna go there.

Worst moment:

When the teacher tells me my son has used his child-safe scissors to cut the shirt on the little girl who sits next to him. Apparently she turned around and he went to work... She didn't even know until her mom saw it at home. Great.

Cutting is big with the K-boys. There's been pants, t-shirts and various degrees of cutting going on. Nice of Neil to kick it up a notch and help the girl next to him. Thankfully, her mother was kind and gracious and accepted our apologies.

But now my kid is the one who cut so-and-so's shirt in kindergarten... he's a keeper.

Hopeful

2009-01-22T08:45:00.000-08:00

I've been hunkered down with inauguration coverage. I TiVo'd one channel. Watched another channel. Stayed up too late watching inaugural balls. Watched parts again. Watched Daily Shows and various analysis. And now I'm kind of burnt out.

Can you tell Dean was out of town?

Neil shares his lunch

2009-01-16T15:02:00.000-08:00

It's never good when the school office calls your cell phone.

It's worse when you get there and you see the custodian heading out of the office and he's wearing haz-mat gloves and carrying a bag of towels headed to the trash.

Oh please don't let that be my kid, I pray silently.

But you know it was my kid, right? He threw up all over the office. There was the lovely sent of hard-core sanitizer as I got to the front of the office.

Neil was wrapped up in a beach towel. His clothes were still on but were covered in orange bits and various other items from his stomach.

"I threw up." Really?

"Twice." Great.

Do I bring scented candles on Monday as a proper sorry-my-kid-threw-up-where-you-work gift?

On the way home Neil tells me he earned a Caught-Being-Good (It's a little ticket school staff hands out when kids are doing what they are supposed to be doing or if they go above that. The tickets go into a bin and at the end of the month names are drawn for prizes. One of the prizes is In-N-Out gift certificates. My kids will do most anything for those.).

Neil is really proud of that Caught-Being-Good.

And what did he do to earn it?

"I was eating healthy. I ate all my carrots, as fast as I could. I wanted to be the first to get the Caught-Being-Good from the lunch lady," Neil explained.

Would those be the orange bits he just hurled all over the office?

I'm just saying...

2009-01-12T21:10:00.000-08:00

There are many things I do that make me a sub par parent. One of the latest is that I let the kids watch the SNL skit with Peyton Manning "helping" children. You can see it here.

The boys have been giggling about parts of the skit for days (when he banishes the kid to the port-a-potty may be their top pick, but they also like when he pegs kids with the football).

So this morning as Jack was getting ready for school, I threw out, "I'd kill a snitch. I'm not saying I have, but I'm not saying I haven't. I'm just saying..." (You have to watch the video)

For just a moment, Jack paused. Has she really killed a snitch? What is a snitch?

And then he laughed nervously... Mom wouldn't really kill a snitch, right?

I'm comfortable with that level of fear in my children.

Ice skating

2009-01-09T20:37:00.000-08:00

I took the kids ice skating with friends today. I gave Jack the camera and told him to video Neil as he made his way around the rink. As you will see he took his job very seriously ...

Crushes

2009-01-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to dinner with a friend. We had a great time at a good divey kind of bar with great burgers and available libations.

Somehow we started talking about crushes we had as girls (This was after we made each other cry about favorite dogs who had died. What were we doing?!).

My friend grew up in Nebraska but always knew she would end up in California because she and David Cassidy were going to get married some day (to her credit, she did get the California part right).

I loved Randolph Mantooth. Yes, Johnny Gage from "Emergency 51." I don't think I was thinking marriage... I'm trying to recall...

My Dad

2009-01-07T07:58:00.000-08:00

My Dad LOVES dominoes. We were trapped into games as children. He'd bring them to the pizza parlor. He'd beg us to play with him at home. But we were his children... biological law requires us NOT to play dominoes with him until we are older and realize it's a good way to spend time together...

But my boys think dominoes is awesome. They keep score. They know the lingo (It's like a prison yard when a game is going on ...). They even have nicknames when they play.

Jack is "Action Jackson."

Neil is "Neil the real deal."

My creative sons gave Pa the nickname "The Pa."

Listening to them hoot and holler and smack talk each other through a game of dominoes is one of the best things my Dad does for me.

Snow Day

2009-01-05T17:04:00.000-08:00

We bundled up the kids and packed up the van for a snow day in Wrightwood today. Friends had visited on Friday and had a great time.

Well, there's been a lot of sunshine and warm weather since Friday... and the tubing area at Mountain High is closed during the week.

So let's just say, unless you are going to the resort where they are making fresh powder every day, you should expect a lot of ice.

We found a lot of ice. Our first stop was a camping area near Mountain High. It looked beautiful and we had the place to ourselves (should that have been a clue?). Dean and Neil hopped on our sled known as "The Torpedo" and started down what looked like a small to average incline...

They didn't stop. They picked up speed. They were rocketing down the mountainside -- until they found the pit of mud.

This ride ended with Dean and Neil rolling violently into the mud pit. That's when Neil started crying and screaming, "My face! My face!"

Good times. Good times.

Neil is fine. Just some gravel marks on his face. Poor kid. Dean ripped his jeans and might need a hip replacement. Sadly, I didn't get it on video.

We left that area... It was bad mojo if nothing else.

We drove further up Highway 2, investigating more spots. We finally settled on a spot that had a thrill-a-minute kind of ride, but also had the let's-go-a-little-slower-and-not-scar-any-more-family-members area too.

The kids had a blast. Lots of sledding. The "snow" was a little too like ice for a good snowman or snowball fight, but there is always next time.

Word

2009-01-04T20:31:00.001-08:00

So a friend on Facebook suggested that instead of resolutions people should pick a word for 2009. I've been mulling the idea.

What would be my word? No jokes please about my over-use of the word "crap" or how many times I ask, "Seriously?"

I want a real word. Well, they are all real words but I'd like a real good word.

Could I live by a word for a whole year? Could one word cross into all aspects of my life?

Nurture, inquire, learn, listen, scofflaw, hunker (as in hunker down) ... there are lots of good words out there.

What word would you live by for the next year?

I'm choosing "strong." I like the idea of working on strength -- physical, mental and spiritual strength... There's strength of character, strong convictions, strong-arming ...

It could be a great year.

This one is for Emily

2009-01-03T17:16:00.000-08:00

Emily is our cousin in Florida and we miss her.

Yukon Cornelius

2009-01-02T09:21:00.000-08:00

This is Dean and Neil in costume for the church's Christmas program ("A Christian Carol"). Check out that beard. Dean started to grow it while in the hospital and has kept it up since. I think he is enjoying playing with it. I'm not sure how I feel about it...

I suspect he would like to be just like Yukon Cornelius and will be searching for peppermint finds in no time.

Boys

2009-01-01T16:08:00.000-08:00

This one is for Jane so she knows she has the right site. It's just a photo.

Stop with the video!

2009-01-01T13:35:00.000-08:00

So here's Jack and Neil forced to say nice things to relatives. Actually, they love their relatives, they HATE being forced on video...

And after Jack trips on the skim board, you can make out crying in the background. He hurt his knee, but Mom knew she wouldn't get them to do the video again so she ignored her injured child. He has ice on it now...

Silent Night by Neil

2009-01-01T13:27:00.000-08:00

Jack and Neil were going to say something for their relatives in Atlanta, but then Neil broke into a very stylized version of Silent Night. My apologies I didn't have the camera going when he started.

Sing on little man

2009-01-01T13:16:00.001-08:00

So be prepared. I'm uploading video. This one is of Neil singing "I'm gettin' 'Nuttin for Christmas." Thank you kindergarten program. I cannot get this out of my head.

Happy New Year

2008-12-31T15:42:00.000-08:00

I know it is New Year's Eve and I should be preparing resolutions...

But I've been busy. Doing what? I don't know. But it's been busy.

I'm mulling over my resolution list and I'll get back to you...

Sometimes you get it right

2008-12-30T15:58:00.001-08:00

Christmas did come and it was good. We had a great time Christmas Eve at Marna's and Pa's house. The boys were spoiled rotten and the grandparents loved the numerous framed photo collages of our children that they received as gifts. They are good sports that way.

The best part may have been making my mother cry (in a good way. not the usual way...). We did it by accident.

It started with one brother who did not get our mother a gift so he called another brother to bail him out. The second brother called his sister (me) to complain about it... and that's when I remembered that I did the purchasing for Christmas last year for Brother No. 1. And I think I didn't buy the right thing so I tell Brother No. 2 what I think I should have bought.

He thinks it's a great idea and heads to the mall. Through multiple phone conversations, phone photos and internet searches, we manage to find a cross necklace much like the one my mom had years ago that she lost (and was heartbroken over). We all pitched in and a great present was purchased -- on Christmas Eve even.

Our mom opened it and started to cry, "It's my cross..."

That's when we all started blubbering. Not a dry eye in the house, as they say...

Merry Christmas

2008-12-24T23:59:00.000-08:00

We've just spent the last 2 hours wrapping furiously. Santa has a procrastination issue. He's in therapy for that.

We wrapped the gifts from us. We wrapped the gifts from the dogs. We wrapped gifts to the dogs (I apologize to the cat people I mocked previously). We wrapped gifts from Santa (in special paper with special bows and special tags. We are thorough.)

While I have several nasty paper cuts and there was an incident with the new-fangled paper cutter, I'm giddy. Santa came tonight and Christmas comes tomorrow!

Bad boys

2008-12-23T15:47:00.000-08:00

So I'm thinking up chores for the kids. That's what happens when you don't behave at Pa's house.

My Dad uses a walker so he can't really catch them. We have to rely on respect and fear.

They need to respect their Pa, and they need to FEAR what will happen if they don't. We aren't the beating types so we find chores... lots of chores....

Vacuuming the stairs is always a good chore. I hate doing it and so do they... it's a win-win. Folding laundry is nice, especially towels and socks. They can't really mess those up.

Currently, they are changing the sheets on their beds and vacuuming upstairs. After they struggle trying to get that fitted sheet on and I've had my tea, I might help them out.

The bathrooms could use a wipe down too... or maybe the front walk needs a sweep... darn it, I already did the dishes...

Somewhere in the back of my mind I think they will appreciate the work Mom does every day, but the rest of my brain knows better.

Stop the kissing

2008-12-23T09:05:00.000-08:00

Jack: "Mom, what's mistletoe?"

Me: "It's a plant. At Christmas time you hang some and if you are caught under the mistletoe, you get a kiss."

I attempt to kiss him, but he artfully dodges it.

Jack: "I've got to warn Neil."

Christmas is coming ...

2008-12-20T09:42:00.000-08:00

Good Morning! 5 days and counting till Christmas.... I woke up yesterday with a cold, and then almost no voice this morning after last night's football game. Yahoo. This is going well.

Have I done any Christmas shopping? A little. When did I think I would finish?

Have I made Christmas cookies? A few, but they have been eaten.

Have I cleaned up the house? Clearly not.

Have I made those handmade ornaments? Yeah. Not gonna happen.

Have I wrapped anything? Mailed Christmas cards? Shopped for Christmas dinner? Taken the kids to look at lights? Visited Santa?

Have I knitted myself a new scarf? Seriously, I just made that up. But I'm cranky and beating myself up.

I'm going to forage my way through the kitchen, tossing debris and cleaning up what's been piled up then I'm gonna mess it up again with freshly baked goods. Then I'll probably collapse on the couch and I will be exactly where I started (but I'll have cookies so that's a step forward).

Shout out for Comet

2008-12-19T10:27:00.000-08:00

Neil loves Comet. You know, the reindeer.

He cheers when he hears Comet's name at the beginning of the song "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer."

Of course by the end of that song, he's complaining that Rudolph gets all the credit. Why isn't there a Comet song? Where's Comet's song? He does a good job too.

I can't tell you how many times I have had to listen to Neil's version of Comet the Red Nosed Reindeer...

Jokester

2008-12-18T15:44:00.000-08:00

Neil: "Hey Mom! I've got a joke for you."

Me: "OK."

Neil: "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

Me: "I don't know. Why?"

Neil: "To get to the other slide."

He then dissolves into laughter... "the other slide. He likes that one better. Don't you get it Mom?"

Oh, I get it. Wait till you're old enough to get it, my man.

True tales of trees past

2008-12-16T09:21:00.000-08:00

Oh, Christmas tree how I love you. How I’m willing to torture family members to get you...
This year was no different (This post is for you Ken)...

We finally made it to the lot on Sunday. I was feeling antsy. I need a tree. I need a good tree, a perfectly shaped tree, one that is about 7 feet 6 inches tall and about 5 to 6 feet wide at the bottom. I am specific in my tree needs. This is the maximum amount of Christmas tree I can fit into our living room. We’ve lived here almost 14 years and hard experience has brought me to this knowledge (and my husband tries desperately to keep me in line).

I have purchased a 14 footer and stuck it in the entrance way of the house -- the only place with a high enough ceiling once Dean removed the hanging light-- but the ornaments blow off every time you open the front door. And it wasn’t easy having to go through the kitchen every time you wanted to go to the living room. And when you sat on the couch you could only see just over half of the tree.

My mother refuses to shop for a tree with me. My brothers mock it. My friends tell stories of times they have been caught up in it.

The aforementioned Ken used to keep himself and his truck available when he knew we were tree shopping. It was just easier that way when he had to come rescue us and our tree. Ken has moved to Colorado so it takes a little more commitment on his part.

I have been offered 20 bucks and a tree to leave a tree lot. I know a good deal. I took it. That tree was a beautiful Scottish pine.

We’ve had Nordmam pines, Fraser firs, Grand firs, Noble firs, Monterey pines and the dependable Douglas fir.

There was the year I bought three trees. Dean returned the first one (yes, they will give you a refund). The second we gave to a friend. It was a beautifully shaped tree but too skinny. I thought I could live with it, but I couldn’t. I was miserable. When our friend Art told me he trimmed three inches from the top, I nearly cried. I’m still a little upset.

The year I was offered cash to leave a tree lot was the first year Dean (and Ken) went with me to get a tree. Poor man. He had no idea what he was getting into.

The tree was for my family’s home. I was just home from Prague. We got the cash and the tree and headed home. This was before they put the stand on the tree for you so my mom handed Dean the stand and wished him luck. She retreated to the kitchen.

My lazy brothers stood in the kitchen with my mother laughing. They knew what Dean must have just been through at the lot (looking at tree after tree after tree after tree in search of the perfect one). Being just a boyfriend, Dean was low man on the totem pole and my brothers were enjoying the torture.

When Dean asked for something to whittle the tree trunk down a little to fit it into the tree stand, my mother handed him a steak knife.

He gallantly worked at it for an hour or so before he got the tree in the stand and upright.

Meanwhile Ken had planted himself on the couch and my father was giving him beers. Lots of beers. Pretty soon my dad and Ken were laughing like old buddies, slapping each other on the back, and my dad had nicknamed Ken “Fast Kenny.” He promised him his own engraved mug and a permanent spot on the couch.

My dad kept saying,”Joi, I really like Fast Kenny. You should go out with him.”

Thanks Dad, but I think my boyfriend who is sitting on the floor whittling our Christmas tree with a steak knife might object.

Why did Dean not run away?

Our first Christmas tree as a married couple written up in the local paper.

We went to the local cut-down-your-tree lot. We wandered around this huge field of trees. It was like heaven. Tree after tree after tree available for inspection. I asked friends to stand in front of potential trees until I found the perfect one.

It was a beauty. Only thing was we didn’t really think about the size. We were young and in love. We had just gotten married and returned from a honeymoon in Italy. We weren’t seeing anything straight.

We cut down that tree and we lugged it to the booth to pay. And then when we went to put it on the car ...

We drove a Civic. We tossed that tree up there and that’s when we got an inkling of what was to come: the tree was longer than the car. It hung off the front. It hung off the back.

Hmmmm. Did this stop us? No. The Civic is a compact. How long could it really be? 9 feet?

We lugged the tree up a flight of stairs to our condo (thank you again Ken). We put it in a stand. It almost touched our 14 foot ceiling. Almost touched, no room for a star, but it made it into the house. Yahoo!

Then we started to cut the netting off...

Whoooooooooosh! The netting tore and the tree limbs sprang out. Tim swears a squirrel ran out.

The tree reached from one end of the 8 -foot sliding door to the other end. It was wall-to-wall tree in the living room. It was AWESOME.

And then it fell over.

Thank God there were no small children or animals around. They would have been crushed.

We tried another stand and another stand. Eventually, we nailed a stand to a giant piece of plywood and anchored the tree to the walls to keep it upright.

We decorated only the front of the tree. We couldn’t get around it, and truthfully, we couldn’t afford any more ornaments.

To get the ornaments at the top of the tree, Dean had to get on Ken’s shoulders. Apparently, a ladder wasn’t one of the wedding gifts.

Which brings me to this year: The boys really wanted to cut down their tree. So we carefully picked a tree, noting its height and width (I must stay it is almost exactly 7 foot 6 inches by 5 feet). Weren’t we smart?

Not so much. My husband who had surgery just a month ago starts sawing and sawing and sawing...

The kids and I try to help, but we can’t even get the saw to budge. Dean realizes he doesn’t want to include a trip to the ER with saw wounds so he takes over again.

He’s sawing and sawing. Are we sure the blade is even remotely sharp?

It’s dark by the time we decide to tackle the tree. Yes, tackle the tree.

Dean lined up and knocked it flat. Then Neil jumped on it. I had heart palpitations. Not because I thought they would get hurt, I just didn’t want the tree damaged.

We got it home without incident. Even got it standing in the living room with lights and ornaments and ribbon.

The tree is perfect. It smells fabulous. And the house feels like Christmas.

Ah, Southern California

2008-12-16T08:26:00.001-08:00

It was freezing this morning! And I don't mean California "freezing" (you know, when the temperature hits 60 degrees).

I mean FREEZING -- as in we couldn't open the van doors because they were frozen shut (thank you association sprinklers that I have no control over and I'm bitter about it). FREEZING -- as in the hose was a block of ice. FREEZING -- as in the neighbor's car wouldn't start.

FREEZING -- as in I could barely get a patch of the front windshield thawed out enough to see so I rolled down the driver's side window (no small feat because that was frozen too), stuck my head out and drove the kids, the neighbor and her son to school. I think I scared the neighbor. She seemed VERY relieved to see the van thawed out some after we walked the kids in to class and came back.

I'm drinking hot coffee and wishing I had made sugar cookies yesterday. I'm pretty sure the neighbor is having something in her coffee to calm her nerves.

Oh Tannenbaum

2008-12-13T09:04:00.000-08:00

We are finally getting a tree today! I hope anyway. This has been a slow-getting-started Christmas. Usually the house is completely decorated. The tree is up and shining beautifully, as well as taking up half the available space in the living room.

There's Christmas play practice today and a CIF championship football game to attend in San Jan Capistrano (Go Tartans!), but I think in between is tree-getting time... big, fat, green, Christmasy tree getting time.

Working it

2008-12-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

Want to know what kind of a day I have had? Bet you can tell from what I have allowed my children to eat today. Let's use Neil as an example:

Neil started the day eating the leftover frosting (maybe two teaspoonfuls -- I'm sober enough to realize I should justify myself ever so slightly). Then he moved on to scrambled eggs and bacon.

We ended today with plain pasta and garlic bread made from leftover hot dog rolls (that's the kind of cooking I learned from my mother. But you should try it. It's pretty awesome, especially when it's the only bread available.).

I have worked in Neil's class, manned the school book fair, taken Neil to a birthday party at a bounce house, made dinner, practiced a speech with a kindergardener, created a tri-fold brochure, helped my father plan Christmas Eve dinner, thrown in a load of laundry, washed days worth of dishes ...

I'm a do-er. A tired do-er...

Anniversary

2008-12-03T16:13:00.000-08:00

Really, really it's been 14 years since the husband and I said "I do." Well, we still do.

It'll be an exciting dinner of take out with the kids. I'm picking a kissing movie to watch. Neil is protesting, but I refuse to watch "Clone Wars" again and it's an absolute NO to "Elf" for the third time this week. It's sad when "The Princess Bride" is your best option. As you wish...

We are setting the table, lighting candles and the boys will be mortified.

Neil has already asked me twice if I "HAVE" to kiss Daddy. "Couldn't you just skip it?"

Meow

2008-12-02T20:01:00.000-08:00

I found the person who will get the cat card... her license plate says "Cat Lady" and she lives on my street...

I'm allergic to cats

2008-12-01T15:28:00.000-08:00

Now, I know people have serious relationships with their animals (I will repeat: "It's OK to love your animal, but it is not OK to LOVE your animal.). But I think the situation might have gone too far ...

I was in Hallmark this afternoon looking for a group gift card. It's amazing how many niches there are in the card market. You can get a very specific card for your dentist, for your "service provider," your child care provider, and just about any other contributor to your life. I'm not sure why your average holiday card wouldn't work for your dentist, but maybe you are closer to your dentist than I am to mine.

Then I saw it... the ultimate niche card ... the card you could buy for your cat. Yes, your cat. No dog one. Plenty of cards FROM the dog or the cat (I had no idea they were big card givers). But this one was for the cat. I would have assumed the person who needs a card for their cat would have made one. From scratch. With photos of you together. And dipped in cat nip.

Dear person who needs a Christmas card to give to their cat:

This is not healthy. Either the cat is holding you hostage to its demands or you need more friends... friends who are not felines. Friends who would tell you not to buy your cat a card. The cat can't read. And you reading your card to your cat, that's weird...

Neil is 6!

2008-11-30T21:15:00.000-08:00

Neil's birthday party was today. It was a spectacular spectacle of children with light sabers chasing and whacking each other -- a great success!

Dear Neil,

You rock! You are 6 years old and so much fun. You sing, dance and air guitar your way through life. Whatever comes your way, you have to touch it, lick it, roll in it... You have to experience everything as fully as you can. It's going to be a long, rich life for you my son.

The night before you turned 6, you reminded me that 6-year-old boys no longer have ham (think fat baby thighs. that's where the ham hides.). So just before you went to sleep, I had to sneak upstairs for a ham attack. You giggled and giggled and giggled. I hope I remember the sound of your laughter for ever. It's a sound that fills your heart.

You make faces like your Daddy. You stand like him too. When I look at Daddy's childhood photos, it's your face I see. Grandma Jane must catch her breath when she sees photos of you. I'm sure it's like looking at your Dad.

You are a walking cliche machine ("Now, that's the way I like it!" "Oh, yeah, baby!" "Bring it on!").

You will play basketball on a real team for the first time in January. You are very excited. I'm not sure if you are excited about basketball or excited about being like Jack. Probably a bit of both.

You are not excited about reading or about tying your shoes. Both things I think you should be excited about. But you are excited about Star Wars: The Clone Wars. And you are excited about using the computer and about playing baseball with Jack. You love to cook. You and Jack watch Iron Chef America and can name all the Iron Chefs. We keep toying with the idea that we will have our own Iron Chef competition. Mom loves it that you and Jack WANT Mom on your team. It may be the only competition where Mom is picked first.

We got your first report card a couple weeks ago. You are a very good student. When your teacher, Mrs. Evans, told you to write very neatly because it was for your report card, your printing was better than Daddy's! You work hard at school and are kind to others. I've seen you and I'm very proud.

You are a great snuggler, Neil. You still want to curl up on the couch under a blanket (the red fleece one). And even if you don't have ham anymore, you do have slightly chubby cheeks and just a touch of the softness of a little guy still.

You don't like it when you get embarrassed. You still hide behind Mom. You don't like it when you don't know something. You might appear easy going, but I suspect there's quite a perfectionist in there.

Your legs are long and scarred with bumps, bruises and marks from all your adventures. The perfect way to be a 6-year-old boy!

love,

OMO

*That's another thing about you Neil. You are stubborn and social conventions do not concern you. You don't spell MOM that way. You write it OMO and then you say, "That's the way I do it." I like your confidence kid.

So close

2008-11-29T23:02:00.001-08:00

So close! I've almost blogged every day for a month. And I almost missed it today... but here I am with little to say.

Except that we watched Spike TV (whatever channel number that is, but a Pierce Brosnan Bond movie was on it) and can you guess the demographic from the ads? World of Warcraft and male enhancement pills. Literally, those were the only ads, over and over and over.

And did you know there is a male enhancement soda? You can get two free when you sign up for one of the pills.

Good night...

Post mortem

2008-11-28T21:33:00.000-08:00

So we're in recovery mode from Thanksgiving. The dinner itself turned out well considering that my mother and father managed to squash two major childhood beliefs in the first 15 minutes we were there.

Sweet Neil was showing Marna and Pa the space in his mouth where his tooth used to be. His first tooth and first experience with the tooth fairy -- he was quite excited.

That's when my mom launched into a story about my youngest brother (he's almost 14 years younger than I am)...

"Remember when you kids didn't think I would remember to put money under Brian's pillow when he lost his first tooth?"

I stared at her in stunned silence. My boys looked at me confused. I had to take action.

"You mean when you FORGOT that the tooth fairy would be coming and you thought you should do it?!" I said as I tried to casually kick her back into the present.

"What? No. Remember when you guys put money under Brian's pillow...."

"Mom. You MEAN when you were ADDING to what the tooth fairy brings," I said kicking her harder.

She stared at me. "OH. OH."

There's a moment of silence. I briefly think we are in the clear.

And then she says, "You kids never believed in the tooth fairy or Santa. Why should you?"

That's when my dad starts in on Santa. "There was no Santa when I was a kid. You got a flannel shirt and they told you to like it!"

Sweet Mercy. Are you kidding me?!

One of the dogs ran outside and I sent the kids after him. "Stay out there."

Now, I didn't believe in the tooth fairy or in Santa. That was my parents' choice. It was not a tradition they were interested in or had time for, I suppose. In fact, my mother is quite proud of how I would tell all the neighbor kids how stupid they were for believing and how I would "set them straight." I'm sure I was very popular with kids and parents.

But my husband believed, and it was important to him that our children believe or at least have the chance to believe in magic and mystery and childhood things.

I have to say that one of my lifetime favorite moments was when Jack was 2 and came down the stairs on Christmas morning. He didn't see the tree or the mounds of gifts for him around it. All he saw was an empty plate and glass where the night before he had left cookies and milk for Santa. Jack couldn't contain himself. The joy was contagious. Santa had been there! It didn't matter what he had brought. It mattered that by magic he had come.

I tried gently to remind my mother and father that our children believe in Santa and the tooth fairy and that we expect them not to dispel these myths. Though it was a bit like closing the barn door after the horse was already loose.

"Why should they believe in Santa?!" my mother starts in again. "You kids never believed. Why should they?"

I can see my husband about to lose it. "Why shouldn't they?!" he asks my mother.

I think I'm thankful that my dad interrupts and starts in on "kids these days." He covers spoiled kids, loser kids, too many self-esteem movements and the drugs kids are on these days...

Forty-five minutes later my dad is still going, but we are coming full circle. The kids are outside playing. My parents have stopped talking about Santa and the tooth fairy. And I feel like I've been run over by a bus.

The kids haven't asked about the tooth fairy or Santa. We haven't brought it up. But I'm sure it's coming.

I don't have any idea what to do when it does...

Turkey Day Part II

2008-11-27T21:21:00.000-08:00

I am not in a turkey-induced coma, but I am enjoying some well-deserved wine.

And I deserve it because Thanksgiving dinner STARTED with my mother telling my children that there is no tooth fairy and there is no Santa... It only got better from there...

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T11:20:00.001-08:00

It's turkey day. The main action is happening at my parents' house. I'm making focaccia to add to the feast. The house smells soooo good. Warm and bready.

I'll be back later. This is just in case I fall into a turkey-induced coma and never return... It could happen.

Ladies room hazards

2008-11-26T08:15:00.000-08:00

My friend Julie would really like Michelle Pfeiffer to know that it was not her pee on the toilet seat at Nordstrom's last night.

Two friends and I ended up at The Grove last night. We dashed into Nordstrom's for a little potty break (and a serious look at purses that are worth more than the rent on a large condo in Valencia).

We waited in line and poor Julie got the stall formerly occupied by a messy person so she did what any of us would do when you got to go and the bathroom has a long line. She performed a carefully balanced squat and took care of business.

But as she was leaving who should need to go but Michelle Pfeiffer.

"Great. Now Michelle Pfeiffer thinks I pee on the seat..."

It was just that kind of night people.

I got to get out more

2008-11-25T23:01:00.001-08:00

AHHHHH. Almost didn't make it! But here I am... It's been an interesting evening. I'm planning a post on how this stay-at-home mom needs to get out more. It's not a good sign when you have no idea where your make up is; if you have black flats anywhere; and your kids have no idea what nylons are... stay tuned.

Fun with kids

2008-11-24T18:43:00.000-08:00

Neil is having trouble blending sounds as he tries to read. He's been stuck here for quite some time. I can't tell if he won't slow down and make time to sound out a word, or if it truly is a stumbling block.

The kid can memorize words like you wouldn't believe. He can find The Backyardigans on the TiVo list. He can read the grocery list (but only the items he likes to eat). He can pick words out of something I'm reading.

But phonics? Not quite clicking.

So we've been playing word games. Tonight we were taking a letter combo and changing the first letter to make a new word (you know, add a c to "up" and it becomes cup).

We started with "an": can, fan, pan, man, tan, etc.

Then we moved on to "at": sat, bat, rat, cat, etc.

Jack suggested "am." So we started with: Sam, Pam, ram ...

"Dam!" Neil yelled out and then he quickly covered his mouth.

"Neil said a bad word!" yells his big brother. It's anarchy.

"It's not a bad word," explains Dad. "Think of a dam that beavers build."

"Yeah," acknowledges Jack. "Not like 'Damn kids.' "

Wedding bells

2008-11-23T17:31:00.000-08:00

Just got back from a young friend's wedding shower. It was a joyous, fun event. The bride was cute and delighted by every gift. Every pan, serving dish, place setting was graciously welcomed. Even a butter dish deserved great attention. It was sweet and reminded me how it felt to be starting out, how it felt to be setting up a home, a marriage and a future family.

Reminded me how a set of bowls or dishes could make you feel like you were really starting out together building something.

There are many things in our home that we received as shower and wedding gifts. I cook almost daily in a pan that my dad's friend gave us. I frequently use the Pyrex bowls that a co-worker gave us. The flatware in the drawer is from another of my dad's friends. The dish I make cheeseburger pie in for my husband is from our friend Mary G. The candlesticks, the fancy serving platters, the quilt we sleep under (thank you Grandma Pederson) were all gifts.

There are lots more. As I reach for one to use in our daily life it still brings a little thought of the person who was generous enough to give it to us, to help us make a home, a marriage and a family. Almost 14 years later, thank you still.

I remember when we were young and EVERYONE was getting married. Or at least it seemed that way.

One year, Dean and I attended 9 weddings. I think we were in three wedding parties. That's a lot of bridesmaid dresses, shower gifts, tux rentals, wedding gifts and various functions to attend. We were on the wedding social circuit.

Now that we are old and cranky, not so many weddings. Now we are just grateful when people stay married. Grateful that we are still married.

Ouch

2008-11-22T17:15:00.001-08:00

Those little LEGO figures that come with some LEGO sets...

You know the ones the dogs keep chewing up....

Turns out they can be expensive to replace ....

Lombardi Ranch

2008-11-22T16:27:00.000-08:00

I know it is well past Halloween, but this is one of my favorites. We've been going to Lombardi Ranch since 1979. My poor brother Brian is now 28, almost 29, and we drag him most every year. It's tradition.

I have pictures like this of Brian and now of my kids.

A Tribute

2008-11-21T15:23:00.001-08:00

A friend of mine's aunt died today and I'm honored to say I cried.

Aunt Trudy was an amazing woman. I'm glad to have known her. Many years in the diplomatic services and a strong spirit gave Aunt Trudy envy-inducing stories. She told stories of places and times read about but not seen by most of my generation (or the previous one).

I had the pleasure of meeting Aunt Trudy for the first time before my friend's wedding. I was chastised for showing up at the motel without any wine. I was just supposed to pick Aunt Trudy and Aunt Rose up. I thought I was picking up elderly aunts.

Well, they may have been elderly (only very, very slightly and I imagine Aunt Trudy was only very slightly elderly until she died), but they had spirit. A lot of spirit. I was young (26 or 27) but not as young as Aunt Trudy.

I was not long back from Prague and missing it terribly when I met her. Aunt Trudy had been in Prague during the famous Prague Spring of 1968. She would describe places, buildings and even scaffolding that she remembered. I had been there in 1991 and nothing had changed. I loved her instantly for the way she described a place that I cherish.

She had an appreciation for the world and its offerings that comes from being well-travelled.

I remember being in her hotel room after the wedding. We were celebrating and celebrating. Taking our time and truly honoring the wedding of Kristie and Tim. Aunt Trudy regaled us with stories of contraband liquor in Kuwaiti hotels, inappropriate escapades for women of her generation, and adventures in exotic locales.

Aunt Trudy was the kind of woman to inspire you to be more than you are currently being. She had spirit, intelligence and a strong will. She lived life to the fullest. Something I think some of us forget to do.

I am told that one of her nieces brought champagne to the care home in England where Aunt Trudy died. She and the staff toasted the woman.

An appropriate tribute -- one I plan on participating in. There's a good bottle of champagne on the shelf and I think it's been waiting for tonight. Here's to you Aunt Trudy...

On guard

2008-11-20T20:43:00.000-08:00

War has been declared at our house. We will not go down without a loud and boisterous fight. I'm not exactly sure who we are fighting, but there's been some serious action today.

I have no dining chairs. Most of the blankets in the house are being used. There are no available pillows for anyone. I had to "borrow" this computer chair to type this. But it doesn't matter because...

We have a kick-ass fort!

And Neil is standing guard.

I'm a virtual superstar!

2008-11-19T18:10:00.000-08:00

We have a Wii and the boys love playing baseball. It's become a family bonding experience. Sure, we all play together. I've been known to bowl a mean game.

But I'm really talking about our avatars. There's Mom and Dad. There's the grandparents (Marna and Pa). There's the uncles. There's the fake hideous relative named George.

And we all end up on a baseball team whether we are really playing or not. It's computer-generated quality time.

My dad can't play baseball in real life (he uses a walker), but his avatar's been known to hit a home run on Wii baseball.

I'll hear the shouts: "Go Pa! Go Pa!" It's as if Pa had really saved the game. They cheer and applaud him as if he were in the house.

Same goes for Marna (my mom):

"Marna's up!"

"She's good!"

I've been scarred by the years of parks league softball my dad made me play, and a truly bad season of intramural softball in college (there was a lot of beer, so truly it wasn't that bad). I'm not a big baseball fan.

But on the Wii, my boys actually want me on their team. It's changing my whole attitude toward sports (just the attitude, not actually participating in them)... I could be a superstar!

Not quite a 100 bucks

2008-11-18T19:38:00.000-08:00

I heard this strange noise in the middle of the night. I went to investigate.

It was a little boy digging through his bed trying to find the tooth fairy pillow. (It had fallen between the bed and the wall.)

He fished out the treasure the Tooth Fairy had left.

"Five dollars!" ...

"and GOLD!!" (a gold dollar coin)

He jumped up to get his wallet from his sock drawer (that's where all tycoons keep their money, I believe).

"Five bucks!"

He crawled back under the covers and was fast asleep, dreaming no doubt about how far those 5 bucks would go...

Neil's first tooth

2008-11-17T18:41:00.001-08:00

You thought I wasn't going to make it today, didn't you?

Neil lost his first tooth this morning! He was sitting on the stairs right after he woke up. It's his sunny little spot where he can see downstairs, but he can take his time waking up before he joins us.

Out fell his tooth, right into his hand.

He is very excited. He thinks the Tooth Fairy might leave 100 bucks.

If you're 5, you should dream big.

The whole tooth

2008-11-16T16:39:00.000-08:00

Neil's about to lose his first tooth. It's wiggling and wiggling. He's working it, but not yet. Soon though.

This afternoon he had a serious question for his daddy.

"Does the tooth fairy come every day?"

"He only comes when you lose a tooth."

"Yeah, but can I lose it today? or another day? Will the tooth fairy come on Mondays?"

"The tooth fairy will come any day you lose a tooth and put it under your pillow."

"But Dad," butted in big brother Jack, "Remember that time the tooth fairy didn't come? You said it was his day off."

Oh yeah, that time.

"Union rules have changed since then."

Home

2008-11-15T17:03:00.000-08:00

Dean was rescued by a family friend who was able to get him home. I am forever grateful.

We are hunkering down with supplies, movies and each other. Life is good.

Fire

2008-11-15T08:20:00.000-08:00

So I woke up this morning when a friend called about this. They had been evacuated because of the fire, and she was wondering about Dean in the hospital. I began to aggressively wonder too.

Turns out I can't get to Dean. The freeways and roads between him and me are closed. I don't like it. Feels like the '94 earthquake when I was in the West Valley and he was in Santa Clarita. It felt like forever without him.

Right now he's still in a hospital bed. He's heard rumors that some patients have been evacuated.

I had planned a sweet, family post today about how we managed to pull of movie night in a hospital room with Daddy. We did. We watched "The Wizard of Oz" on hospital TV, sipped tomato soup brought from home, fresh bread and little boys taking turns snuggled into the non-surgery side of their dad. It was good.

And now today ... This could be an adventure-filled day.

Quickly

2008-11-14T10:54:00.000-08:00

Just in case I don't make it back later today. Here's my blog post and it is decidedly NOT stellar!

Dean is good. He is very tired, but looks good and will come Saturday. He's in room 315 and you can call or visit.

Thank you to everyone who has (and continues to) prayed for us, helped us, picked up kids or just called to make me feel better. Love to you all.

Surgery day

2008-11-13T07:27:00.000-08:00

Today is surgery day (11 a.m.). Pray for Dean (and his crazed wife).

Neil is hoping for Dad gets a hole in his chest like Iron Man. Mom is not so much hoping for that...

It's always the roomie

2008-11-12T09:28:00.000-08:00

One of Dean's hospital roomies is an elderly gentleman who has been having very loud conversations with Arnold Schwarzenegger and singing along to the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

"What I've got you've got to get it put it in you.

What I've got you've got to get it put it in you.

"Give it away. Give it away. Give it away now..."