Crazy: Up Close And Personal

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I wish I had time to write a blog post today, but life is crazy at the moment.

If I had time to write I would tell you all about how much I love Halloween, but I have roughly 45 pumpkins to gut and carve.

I could go on and on about how this is my favorite holiday, how I am that crazy neighbor that you don't understand because our family gets so into our Halloween decor, but I have a clown costume to fix and one more clown mask to find.


I'd tell you about how we transform our house and yard into the Cemetery Hotel and how this year is the off year when we throw in a spook alley, but I need to get to making the food for the disgusting dining room.

I'd love to tell you about how huge it's become this year with a cast of almost 30 teenage spooks and creepers from the neighborhood, but we're getting our haunted corn maze put back together after the continuous rain and wind that all but destroyed it a couple of nights ago.



I wanted to write about how fun it has been decorating the interior of the top floor of my house in preparation for having hundreds of strangers wander through it this weekend, but I still have to measure, cut and lay carpet remnants in the walking areas.


I wish I had time to tell you about the additions this year - the haunted lobby and creepy laundry room, the catacombs and south cemetery where the zombies come out at night, the forested tunnel and honeymoon suite... but the spider's lair is not yet complete and, well, someone's got to do it.

What I will tell you is that if you live anywhere near me and would like to come, we had tickets printed for both Friday and Saturday nights and we'd love to have you see what we've been putting together for the past few weeks in anticipation of this weekend.

For us, the real treat is having our friends and neighbors come through and enjoy a bit of a scare on Halloween weekend.

If you'd like a ticket, just let me know in the comments or send me an email at gerbdonna at gmail dot com. If I can't get one to you before this weekend then we can put one on hold for you with the lady who'll be passing out candy in front of the Cemetery Hotel.

I hope you can make it... we're dyyyyyyying to see you. (insert evil laugh)

Cats and Dogs...

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I was a cat.

I say this not because I really was a cat, after all, I am actually allergic to them (plus the fact that I hate them too). I say this because I have been a dog before…in fact, some days I am a dog, while other times, I find myself being a cat.

Let me explain…

A dog is an animal that just seems to love you, no matter what. He goes out of his way to be around you too. A simple scratch behind the ears completely makes his day. He comes when you call, and always wants to play. No matter how many times you throw the ball or want to run in the park, he is there. If it’s raining, and you are going out in the rain, the dog usually wants to go with you…he just doesn’t care what the weather is.

Not so for a cat. A cat is a solitary creature; it wants nothing more than to do what it wants, when it wants. If you call it, it does not come. In fact, the more you try to get it to do what you want, the more it tries to stay away. If you give it an order to stay, or to go, it usually does not. When it rains, the cat stays inside, and just lazes around, staying where it is warm and cozy. Maybe if the weather is nice, the cat would oblige to go outside…maybe.

It seems that all of us, at different times or other in our lives, have been either a cat or a dog.

It rained for three days.

I am so a dog...

Images so swiped from somewhere on the Internet which I have since forgotten. Yeah, I'm pretty fickle like that...

The Slacker Mom and Her Offspring

Pin It I am such a slacker.

I admit it: I just plain stink at this whole "trying to live life as usual while pregnant" thing.

I can't even seem to blog about anything except being pregnant. I'm sorry, really I am.

I apologize profoundly for my slacker-ness (read: not blogging, cleaning, doing laundry, exercising, or anything else remotely productive) but let's face it--I can't see it changing any time soon.

Energy levels are at an all-time low, which essentially means if I have the choice of sleeping or scrubbing a toilet, I will choose sleep every time. Add in the fact that I cannot take my ADD medication, and you have a complete Slug. It's so bad, I actually had Lawson bend down to pluck a can of chicken gravy off of the bottom grocery store shelving unit this afternoon...I just felt it would require too much effort to lever myself back up.

Now, theoretically, I know that it is indeed possible to live life normally while pregnant. I understand that you can exercise (in fact, you should exercise), you can bend and straighten, mop the floors, haul laundry out of the washer, and do any number of other things.

I just don't want to. I want to revel in my first trimester fatigue, and have an excuse to block out the world for a little while with a nap. (Do you know how long it's been since I took a nap? When I was pregnant with Lawson. That's eight-plus napless years, folks. ) I want to delight in my awkwardness and shifting center of balance, and baby it with frequent "feet up" moments. I want to concentrate on gestating with minimal interruptions.

Now, this is very difficult to do when there are two smallish humans who have become pretty well established as your kids. Lawson is entering the world of "you're so cute; will you be my special friend?" with the little girls in his class, and is requiring many lessons in how-to-talk-to-girls. Autumn is entering the world of we-must-straighten-the-hair-and-find-the-perfect-polish before school every morning. I love that Lawson comes to me for these man-to-Mom talks, and that Autumn wants my fashion advice. Their interruptions of my Gestational Concentration are fierce and lovely and anything but minimal.

That's okay, though. It's funny...I think I want to focus so intently upon this time because, having been there before, I remember all too clearly how fleeting it is. And this time, it's not miserable for me. I'm not assaulted with nausea and/or puking 24/7. While a little draggy, I'm not finding it necessary to slip into a coma to cope. So instead of shutting my small humans out in favor of hermetically celebrating this bond I'm forming with this new small human within me, I'm bringing them in to share it.

Showing them the illustrations, and measuring a growing distance between our forefingers and thumbs. Discussing names. Letting them laugh at my awkwardness, and enlisting their help.

I love that they're willing to help, and so ready to celebrate with me.

And I promise that I'll try to write about something other than being pregnant next week. I'm kind of in a one-track-rut right now. :)

Genius

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I guess the real reason that my wife and I had children is the same reason that Napoleon had for invading Russia: it seemed like a good idea at the time. Bill Cosby

I have a fun going to church.

Is it fun because if the spiritual edification and social solidarity that comes from worshipping with others of your faith?

No not really.

It’s fun because I get to sit quietly and unencumbered while I watch the families with young children try to wrangle them into good, reverent acceptable church behavior (insert a little bit of evil laughter here).

I’m honestly not judging on the success of the other parishioners parental efforts. I’ve been there and done that and I know that sometimes you can fight the good fight and work the positive reinforcement with quiet books, the bible-story finger puppets, the baggies of cheerios, and sometimes you just give up and take the kid out to the foyer and let him run around. But as my kids are all grown up now, I have to admit to a little perverse pleasure in watching other people take their turn attempting to subdue the ankle biting crowd.

Kids are fun to watch and there are some families that I particularly gravitate towards because the little people seem to be such a hilarious challenge for their parents. I sometimes help the parents out if I think they need it by giving the kid The Look as Ebay calls it.

Let me explain The Look.

Through all my years of parenting and school teaching, I have developed a particular facial expression that seems to be effective in stopping an errant child in his/her tracks and helping them take a moment to perhaps re-think their current behavior. Think Miranda Priestly in The Devil Wears Prada. It usually involves an uncomfortable and lengthy amount of eye-contact, a certain pursing of the lips and, if I think that they really need motivation, I can raise my right eyebrow. I sometimes pull it out at the grocery store if I see some kid throwing a fit right there in the cereal isle while the poor mom is struggling with baby and just trying to get the shopping done. I just kind of stand there perusing the cornflakes till the fit-thrower catches my eye. I give them the stare for a few seconds, raise my eyebrow if I think they deserve it – and I tell you what, it almost always works.

Ebay hates when I do this.

“Mom, cut it out.”

“What?” I ask innocently.

“You know what.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re doing The Look.”

“I just thought the mom could use a little help.” I answer sweetly.

“Well, you’re freaking the kid out.” Ebay snaps.

“Just trying to be helpful.” I say while Ebay rolls his eyes.

I know I’m freaking the kid out, but that’s kind of the point – mind your manners in public and quit making life harder for your poor mom. And frankly, now that Ebay teaches primary, I’ve seen him use the very same look – so how do you like them apples?

Anyway, watching the kids at church is fun for me whether or not I pull out The Look. It’s kind of like a real-life National Geographic Special. The rambunctious young cubs pushing the envelope of their environment while the parents try teach them to stay by the waterhole and not run away to the elephant graveyard.

There’s one little guy in my ward – about 2 years old - that I particularly like to watch. I’ve taken to calling him “Genius Baby.” This little guys seems super-smart to me and he really gives his parents a run for their money. He’s an only child right now, but part of his genius seems to be his ability to recruit other toddlers into his life of crime so good luck to his parents if/when they have more kids.

For example…

A few Sundays ago I got to church late (no good excuse, I was just late) and so was sitting out in the foyer. Well this seemed to be a day when a lot of the parents had just given up the fight, because there was quite the social hour of young parents out in the foyer “watching” their toddlers. Both of Genius Baby’s parents were out there, standing next the doors that went into the cultural hall (a fancy word for the gym) talking to the parents of another little guy who was about the same age. Since the parents were engaged in talking to one another, they weren’t as engaged as they maybe should have been in watching their little off-spring. At first this wasn’t a problem. Genius Baby and Little Guy were just kind of playing hide and seek through and around their parent’s legs. But then Little Guy (who was particularly enthusiastic and puppy-like) grabbed hold of the handle to the to the cultural hall door. It’s a heavy door, and being such a little guy, he was only able to pull it open a couple of inches. But this was enough to catch Genius Baby’s attention. Genius Baby had obviously been in the cultural hall before and realized that that was the place to be.

Freedom! Room to run and scream and play! Genius Baby wanted in the cultural hall.

He too pulled on the door but also wasn’t strong enough to get the door open far enough to get through it before it closed on them again. They both tried back and forth for a few minutes and then sort of started squabbling a little bit over whose turn it was to try and pull – Genius Baby – Little Guy – Genius Baby – Little Guy. After a few minutes Genius Baby got tired of waiting for Little Guy to take his turn at pulling – especially when it wasn’t working. He grabbed onto the back of Little Guys pants and pulled him backwards away from the door. Well, Little Guy was still holding onto the door handle and when Genius Baby pulled on Little Guy while Little Guy was also pulling on the door - together they were strong enough to open the door. Little Guy was so excited that the door was open ( I think he thought he’d suddenly been able to do it himself) that he let go of the door handle, jumped around a little bit in celebration, but unfortunately by the time he was done, the door had shut again. Little Guy, pulled on the handle again, but couldn’t get it open this time. Little Guy was clearly puzzled – why wouldn’t it open now? Where had his massive muscles gone? But the light bulb had gone on for Genius Baby. He waited until Little Guy pulled on the door again then he wrapped his little arms around the waist of Little Guy and pulled with all his might. And sure enough, the door opens wide – Success! The two little dudes run through the door into the grand open freedom of the gymnasium with the door closing quietly behind them. Meanwhile, their parents, still chatting away, hadn’t seen a thing. I get up, cross the foyer to open the cultural hall door and enlighten the parents that their toddlers have disappeared. Just as I opened the door, but hadn’t yet had a chance to say “Hey Parents, you’re little dudes are running around unsupervised in the gym,” Genius Baby’s mom notices he’s gone, looks through the open gym door, sees her toddler running free, and gives me a look like “Why did you open the door for two toddlers?” and heads into the gym with the other parents to gather their kids. I didn’t push it. I just went back to my chair in the foyer. The parents came back with their little dudes and resumed their chatty position next to the cultural hall doors. But now Genius Baby and Little Guy had a system – they knew how to get this done and it didn’t take long before they were off again and had involved a couple of little toddler girls in their escape plans too (shades of things to come?). It took about three times before the parents realized what was happening and that their toddlers had masterminded the great escape on their own (apology to me...anyone…anyone?).

Anyway the whole thing was pretty hilarious and, as I said, reminiscent of those nature specials that describe how the chimpanzees figure out how to use a stick to get the ants out of the ant hill. I wonder if the old chimp parents watch the young chimp parents and just laugh and laugh.

Switching Perspective

Pin It Yesterday was one of those days.

For me, that means I've been coughing for 2 weeks straight and was able to sleep maybe a total of 2 hours at night because I woke repeatedly in various panicked half dream/half awake states and my body refused to cooperate when I attempted to get out of bed in the morning.

I lamely told my kids to pull out the cereal for breakfast and that I'd give them all money for school lunches then went back to sleep.

About 5 minutes before the elementary kids left my 11-year-old came in to report that they had all eaten cereal AND toast, brushed their teeth AND hair and that I could continue to sleep knowing all was taken care of for the day. I thanked him and drifted back to sleep.

I didn't give it a second thought until I went to pick my kids up after school.

My 6th and 4th graders turned out just fine, but when I saw my sweet little 2nd grader approaching the car, I about died.

She had very obviously done her own hair that morning...


Initially I was mortified. Because I have a large family I am self conscious about what others think of my kids appearances and do my best to be sure that none of my kids look neglected or orphaned. I guess I'm trying to avoid the whole stigma of oh, his pants are too short because he only wears hand-me-downs or her hair is always a mess because her mom has no time to get to it with all of the other kids to tend to.

When we got home I decided to talk to her about it. I asked, "Princess, did you do your own hair this morning?" "YES!" she answered, excited. "I did the ponytail all by myself so you could sleep! Isn't that awesome?"

Her response caught me off guard. She was so pleased with herself and what a big girl she was to have taken care of her own hair. She saw this as a gift to me, allowing me more time to rest that morning. What could I do? Besides, I am always trying to foster independence in my children. So I decided to change MY attitude. Was this any worse than allowing my 5-year-old to wear his long-sleeved skeleton pajama top all summer because it made him happy? Not really. And it certainly didn't hurt anyone - unless you count my silly pride.

"That IS awesome," I told her. "And it was so nice to sleep in this morning. Thank you, sweetheart."

"You're welcome!" she answered, beaming, as she skipped down the hall. Then she turned and added, "I love you, Mom!"

Indeed.