Gravity Works

Gravity does work, and I have the mess to prove it. My teen son feels the need to test the laws of science, over and over again. He loves to swing full buckets over his head in an arc, in the house, with the added, “Look Mom, it won’t spill!” Never mind the nervous stutter as I try to get him to stop, stumbling over my words in an attempt not to swear at him, “Um…oh…geeze…please…um...don’t…it’ll...um…make…mess…over...um...my…furniture”
The latest test tried (and failed, I might add) was to juggle an open, full gallon of chocolate milk. I’m still not sure what he was trying to do exactly, if just making a huge mess was it, well, mission accomplished! I think he was practicing a one handed juggle between the kitchen and dining room. The full open gallon of chocolate milk dropped and split open, dumping most of the milk all over my antique wool Oriental rug, and wood chairs, and kitchen cupboard, counter and floor. From the living room all I heard was a tell tale SPLAT, GURGLE, and an “Ops!” I rushed into the kitchen to see my teen rushing to save the rest of the chocolate milk, (screw the expensive rug that was Great Grandmas) and my husband just standing there, grinning. Did he think this was funny? Yes, and he was having a hard time not laughing. I guess I was the only one worried about the rug. Superwoman that I am, I saved the rest of the chocolate milk, and got towels down on the mess to save the rug.
To my teenager’s credit, he did mop, without too much complaining. I kept adding, “you missed some over here, a little further, a little further, a little further.” After a while, my son caught on to that little game, and said, “Um, Mom, I’m sure I didn’t spill this far from the kitchen. I think the floor is clean now.”
My kitchen and dining room floors are now cleaner, and I hope an important science and physics lesson has been learned. Gravity does work.

Our Pets

Well, Max's pet praying mantis, Monty, passed away yesterday. He was old for a bug. Now I have 24 crickets, that I have no idea what to do with. Do we now keep them as pets and feed them too? The choices boggle my mind. I'm kinda of new petted out at the moment. Our new kitten, Bigfoot has left me some homemade "presents" under the Christmas tree. I guess he WAS an outdoor cat, so the logical place to poop would be under a tree, but our Christmas tree? As for the rest of our pets, Bertha the dog, and Eve & Lilith the cats, are all fine. The older cats are afraid of the new kitten, he is a scary handful of fuzzy fur. Critters now out number people (if you include the crickets-do they count?)

Slippery As A Buttered Peacock

I went to my Sis-in-laws baby shower on Saturday. I had a nice time and it was fun to get to meet her friends. Elizabeth is very lucky, she has great friends. At the shower I was reminded of a funny pregnancy story. I was hugely pregnant with my 2rd son Oscar, and my skin was dry and itchy. I'm taking about the kind of itchy that only women in their last month of pregnancy can really understand. I decided to take an oil bath, and used a ton of baby oil along with 3 bath beads in our huge old claw footed bath tub. After a good long soak, I TRIED to get out of the tub. I just couldn't turn and get up onto my hands and knees and I couldn't sit up and use my legs to get up-yes, I was that huge. After a couple of panicky minutes, I called my husband, Max, to come and help me up. Calling him was my last resort. I really didn't want him to see me stuck in the tub, like a turtle on it's back. He showed up in the bathroom and after we laughed at the situation, he got down to the business of getting me out of the tub. Max tried to just lift me out, but I was just too slippery from all that oil. I kept on slipping out of his grip. It didn't help that neither one of us could stop laughing. I told him that I was "slippery then a buttered peacock." That didn't help, and the giggles started all over again. After about a dozen tries, he finally had to use a towel, between me and his arms to lift me out. It took over 10 minutes to get me out of that darn tub. Not only was I itchy, but now I was slippery and embarrassed too.

I'd like to introduce...

Well, we made it through another Christmas, and our family has grown with the season. I would like to introduce the newest family member…Bigfoot Fluffy Hershey; we’ll call him Bigfoot for short. He has a huge extra toe on each foot, kind of looks like he’s wearing white chopper mitts.
For Christmas, Santa was good to us all. Max got the camping supplies he wanted. I received a beautiful writing journal and Olivia on CD as read by Dame Edna. (I love that pig Olivia and hearing Dame Edna reading it is hilarious) Leif got his much-desired cell phone; Oscar got the pre-teen required gift of a MP3 player. Tess received her weight in Barbies (she can even launch Barbie puppies through the air), and Tom got a new game, but sadly not the moustache and beard that he so badly wanted. Tom also got a tattoo book of 500 tattoos, and now proudly wears 320 of them all over his neck, chest, arms and hands. Glad we got our family pictures taken before Christmas, looks like he should be working in the circus. We did venture out for the after Christmas Target Store sales, and were surprised to see that we were in fact one of the few people not wearing PJ’s out for shopping. Did I miss the wear PJ's all day memo?

Christmas Hunting

Christmas shopping requires just the right amount of guts, and I always move with my elbows out. If you have ever gone to the 5:00 AM morning “Black Friday Sales” you know what I mean. They open the doors, and in everyone rushes— all going for the same gift item. You know the one, the one that everyone wants. The one that the store advertises for half the regular price. The one that they only have two of on the shelf. The one that the store employees have stashed in the back room for themselves. Me and seventy-five other moms all rush for that perfect gift, all going for those two toys on the shelf. The store doesn‘t even have the decency to put them in the regular spot. Oh no, the Elmo toys aren‘t in the toy section, but in the automotive area. Who in their right mind would look for toys in the automotive section? That‘s when it hit me, and I figured out the conspiracy, the Big Plan. Those sneaky bastards. I’ve got their game all figured out. They enjoy watching people scurry, watching us battle over $10.00 deals. The store employees are getting their revenge for having to be there so early, and who can blame them. It’s so early that I didn’t even really get dressed. I just put sweats on over my
pajamas, all in the hopes that I can go back to bed when I get home. Those poor employees have only just started that eight hour shift. I guess I should cut them some slack, if only they weren’t enjoying this so much. I can see them laughing, “Sure, the Elmo toys, they should be in the toys department.” Oh right, I fell for that trick before. They won’t get me twice.
Ask any sleepy looking employee the question, “Where are those $50.00 computers?”
The answer will always be, “We must be out of those already.” Already? You opened up three minutes ago, how could they be out already? It’s enough to ruin Christmas. Who needs peace on Earth and good will towards man, what I need is a computer for my teen and an Elmo for my toddler. That’s my holiday dream. How can my child not get that perfect gift, how will she ever cope, how will I cope, I wonder?
Wait a minute, what about that Elmo. I bet that it is somewhere weird this year. Last year, the latest Elmo toy was in the hair care area, just maybe…Yes, score, I found it, it was in a strange area again. However, someone else has found the pot of gold also, and in the rush, I remember the trick of all great bargain shoppers— shop with your elbows up. This self-defense trick is the only protection I have against that ninety-pound grandma going after MY Elmo. See that toy on the shelf? Yes, that last Elmo. I must move quickly if I want to snatch it up before the grandma next to me gets any funny ideas. Victory is mine. The season will be wonderful after all.
The blessed morning arrives, and the stockings are hung by the chimney with care. All the kids get the perfect gift from Santa. Who gave me that ugly sweater that is two sizes too small? Luckily, the gift receipt is included, so it is off to the store again. Bah humbug, now for that returns line…

All I Want for Christmas...

We saw Santa on Saturday and the kids asked for their dream Christmas gifts. So far, I'm right on track. Tess wants make-up (just like Abby's gift) Leif, my teen wants a cell phone, and Oscar no longer believes in Santa, so he wouldn't even play along and ask for something, and Tom, my 6 year old Romeo, asked for a new leap pad game.
The other item that Tom asked for is a bit more tricky. My boy wants a moustache and beard. I'm not making this up, he really wants to be able to grow facial hair for Christmas.
This is the same boy that was massaging the shoulders of the girl in front of him in class. The teacher teased him that maybe he should give everyone a massage, starting with her. Well, my boy said "sure." He proceeded up to the front of the classroom. He (intimately) tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and started rubbing her shoulders. My boy has moved from 10 year old girls to 30 year old women. I don't know where he gets that from-OK, I do have an idea where he gets it from.

That Bratty Pluto...

That Bratty Pluto, “It got what was coming to it. Pluto was getting too big for its britches. And Saturn will haunt our dreams…”
These phrases were really heard from a cable show about our planets that Leif was watching last week. I couldn't stop laughing when I heard Alex Baldwin narrating the show about our planets. “Pluto deserved what it got.” I had no idea that “Pluto was getting too big for its britches” I guess it deserved to be down graded from a planet to a gas ball. In addition, I don’t know about you, but Saturn does not haunt my dreams, thank you very much!

Traditions-The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Our family traditions are just a bit strange. We don't swap nice gifts, we trade weird ones. Everyone wraps up some white elephant items (the uglier the better) and we play a dice game. First we play to get the wrapped gifts, unwrap them, and then play the dice game again to steal the strange gifts from each other. There are nice items included, and someone brings candy bars and small toys for the kids to go after so they don't feel left out.
And then there is the pickle. (We got this great idea from Dave's family) We re-wrap the same deli pickle every year and include it in our game. Pickle # 2 is going on 5 years now, and has started to get smushy. Pickle # 1 got accidentally eaten after 2 years of play(I know, icky-icky mushy pickle)
We also all go to Macy's and visit the 8th floor Christmas display and then we all get our picture taken with Santa. Can you just see 15 people crowding around and even sitting on poor old Santa, "Ha, We've got him surrounded!"
The kids love the silliness of it all, and everyone so looks forward to our crazy family traditions each year.

Goonie Boots

When I was 6 years old, my mom made me some special slippers. They were made from shaggy brown fake fur, and came up to my knees. Remember Alice the Goon from Popeye? "I luv Popeye, I luv Popeye." (Back when there were only 2 cartoons on to watch after school-Popeye and Tom and Jerry. For some strange reason I liked Popeye.) Anyway, back to the slippers. My Christmas gift that year was some home-made slippers that were more like the furry version of mukluks that you some times see on the worse outfit page of People Magazine. They were brown shaggy furry slippers that came up to my knees and we called them goonie boots (named after Alice the Goons feet) I loved those "goonie boots." They were so warm in fact that I'd get sweaty feet, and instead of taking off the slippers, I'd take off clothes. I was a tall and scrawny 6 year old, all knobby knees and wild tangled hair, running around in only my Wonder Woman under-roos and my goonie boots. I was all, "Lord of the Flies" back then.
I wonder what happened to them, my beloved goonie boots?

Maternity Clothes

Has anyone else noticed that maternity clothes have gotten so much better looking in the last 5 years or so. I recently donated a long lost bag of maternity clothes and was surprised at the difference between clothes I wore for my first pregnancy, 14 years ago and the ones I wore 4 years ago. The ones from 1994 are just terrible. Toddler rompers in size jumbo, blue jean bib over all(in both shorts and in pants), and purple leggings with a green puffy shirt with huge shoulder pads. Did I really wear these? I must have looked like a melon in those tight purple leggings and green shirt, and I shudder at the thought of looking like a giant toddler in rompers. I thought I looked so cute. The ones from 4 years ago are much better. Cute flared jeans, flowing shirts, and beautiful dresses. The undies, unfortunately, were the same styles. If you've ever been pregnant, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Jumbo grandma panties, that can stretch from a size 4 to a size 14. And the bras, what more can be said about those monsters with the 4 hook clasps and shoulder straps wide enough to land a plane on. I still remember the first time I put on my new preggy undies. My sister was over and down stairs, waiting for me to change. I couldn't stop laughing, there was only 1 inch of space between the tops of the undies, and the bottom of the bra. My sister couldn't tell if I was laughing or crying. It was a kind of hysterical laughter that only a pregnant (or crazy) person can truly master. Don't get me wrong, they might have been ugly, but boy were they comfortable. I didn't want to give them up until I had to-yes they are that comfortable. Ahh, one of the many joys of pregnancy, up there with morning sickness and stretch marks.

Sticks and Stones...

My kids have to creative. I don't allow them to tell each other to "shut up." Instead, I hear "sshhhh" loud enough to rattle the windows, and wake neighborhood dogs. The no name calling rule has been pushed to it's limits by all the kids. They don't call each other "stupid," or "dummy," but all have other more creative things to say when they are mad. Leif can be heard yelling, "geeze, kid!" Tess is famous for telling people that they are a "Meany" or saying, "tarter sauce" when she's mad. Oscar now also says, "kid" like it's a nasty word. So far, Tom has been the most creative in his name calling. It's hard not to laugh when you hear a 5 year old calling his 13 year old brother a "butt sneeze!" That one is still my favorite, and I guess it is a good description, and a great substitute for name calling. I know it's all in the context, but I feel kinda proud of his creative use of the English language, and it really is a funny put down coming from a toddler.

Cookies and More Cookies

I'm tired of cookies. I just did my annual Christmas cookie baking. 9 dozen "The next best thing to Tom Selleck" cookies (chocolate with Andes mints melted on top-my favorite), 3 dz choc chip, 6 mini loaves of banana bread, 3 dz death by chocolate, 3 dz choc choc chip cookies, 2 dz peanut butter choc chip, 2 dz turtles, 2 dz peanut butter cups and...fudge. I'm chocolated out, if that's at all possible. I think I ate my weight in chocolate over the last 3 days. Happy Holidays and pass the cookies!

Philmont Training trip with the Family

Philmont, in New Mexico, is the Mecca of Boy Scouts. Our family was lucky enough to go last summer. The High Adventure base is usually reserved only for Boy Scouts and Explorer Scouts, but they had some summer training sessions for adult leaders, and programs for families members, so off we went. It was a really long drive with six people and all of our stuff in my crowded minivan. In Denver the DVD player in my van got stuck on one movie, and wouldn't let us change movies. The kids hope never to see "Balls of Fury" again after 40 hours of the movie, over and over again. If we turned it off, they'd start to fight and get restless, so on it would go, and everyone would calm down. Never underestimate the joy of quiet kids in a cramped van.
The trip was great, we'd never seen mountains before. The sky was so open, days so hot and nights so cold.
Max and I got great Cub Scout training, and the kids all had fun at a week long day camps. Oscar got to go on "real hikes" and Leif went on an overnight hike into the back country. The two oldest boys also got their first taste of altitude sickness and dehydration, but were better off because if it. They both learned first hand what it feels like coming on, so they knew what to do and what not to do when they were out hiking and camping.
We saw deserts, mountains, and tons of wild life. I'll post pictures when I find them. It was a great trip, fun and memorable. Well worth the gas to get there.

The Other Tess Strikes Again

She's at it again, that other Tess. When my toddler Tess, gets caught doing something she shouldn't, she's quick to blame "the other Tess." Who painted the mirror in mom's expensive red lipstick? "The other Tess." Who dropped glitter and beads all over the living room? "The other Tess." I guess it does make some sense to a four year old that her imaginary friend would be the trouble maker. Her brothers don't buy it for a minute, but me, I'm not so fast to judge. I had an imaginary friend (my shadow) who did bad things like cut the baby's hair and flood the bathroom floor. I'm more understanding about it, so I'll be keeping an eye on that "other Tess."

Being a Parent

Being a parent is a strange job. In what other job would your boss ask you to wipe their butt, puke on you or ask you to hold them in your lap. The hours are grueling, the boss demanding, and the pay is terrible. It's the perks that sell the job. It's the wet toddler kisses, sleepy warm snuggles and hugs from grumpy teens that make it all worth while. It's a job like no other, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Being a parent changes you. Be prepared, because it forever opens your heart. Hearing about sick children before I had kids was sad. Now I openly weep, and pull my children closer. I want and need to help, to offer comfort to those sick, hurt or hungry children. I dig deep and donate what I can, when I can, to those organizations that help children. Being a parent is like wearing your heart on your sleeve. You see the bigger picture and see that we all belong to each other. We are our brothers keepers.

You'll Never Guess What I Found...

When Max & I were first married we bought a little house in a rough part of town. Being new home owners we were great about upkeep. Yard raked in the fall, any garbage that blew into the yard was picked up immediately, we did the sort of maintenance that was cheap and easy. One warm spring day I was picking up the yard. I was making a pile of downed branches, picking up garbage and raking the remainder of the leaves, when I found "something" under the bushed by the front door. It looked like a flat mummified turkey drum stick with fur. I stood looking at it for a couple of moments trying to identify what the hell it was. I picked it up with a newspaper and threw it away with the rest of the trash. Why on earth would someone put something like that by our front door? Was it the messy neighbors KFC remains, or something more sinister?
When Max got home from work that night, I couldn't wait to tell him about my grisly discovery.
"You'll never guess in a million years, what I found under the bushes by the front door today." I proudly told him.
"A mummified flat squirrel?" I was speechless, how in the world had he known...unless...
Max laughed, I was standing there, speechless, with my mouth hanging open.
"Cola Grandma gave it to me last fall, and I didn't know what to do with it. I left it under the bushes. I guess, I forgot all about it, till now. Gross huh?"
Max's Grandma had found it under her house and had thought he would have found it interesting. Strange thing to give one's grandson, if he were normal. But Max and his Cola Grandma were anything but normal. It was exactly the sort of gift she would have given him-and the sort of gift he would have loved. We still laugh about what a spring clean up might uncover, you just never know.

Vomit Shower

Here is one of my essays, it's my favorite. Hope the subject doesn't gross you out too much, not everyone thinks puke is funny. (If you have a weak stomach, read something else from my other posts.) When things like this happen, what else can someone do besides laugh, going insane isn't always an option-a vacation, yes-but not a permanent solution.

“Vomit Shower”

It all started at 3 a.m. with a yell, “Mom, Oscar's is throwing up on me!” Never mind the coffee, I was instantly wide awake. I ran into the room my two oldest boys shared and surveyed the chaos. Yep, it was puke and it was everywhere. Oscar had been feeling under the weather and sometime during the night had known something was off. Not wanting to get sick on his own bed, he had leaned over the rail of the top bunk and had thrown up. His older brother Leif, in the bottom bunk, woke up to a hot vomit shower. Oscar just kept on hurling over Leif’s bed with Leif still in it. I don’t know which kid had the funnier look on his face— Oscar’s wide eyed look of guilt or Leif’s look of disbelief and shock. And then Oscar did it again. I just stood there, frozen. Finally springing to action, I ran for a bucket. After Oscar had the bucket in hand, I helped him down the slippery wet ladder and looked at his PJ’s. They were clean, not a drop on them. The same was true of his sheets and blankets. I shook my head in disbelief and sent him to the bathroom. I turned to Leif on the bottom bunk. I didn’t even know where to start.
“Just stand up, strip off your PJ’s and leave them here on the floor. Go take a shower and then come back here and help me clean up.” I threw in a please at the end when I saw the look on his face. Not only had he been thrown up on but now he had to help clean it up.
“It’s not fair,” he grumbled. I agreed. A beautiful dream about me and Brad Pitt on vacation in France was interrupted. But you didn’t hear me complaining. We stripped off the wet blankets, sheets and pillow cases. I wiped off the ladder and spot shampooed the carpet. We remade the bed and both boys finally went back to sleep. Oscar now sleeps with a bucket on his top bunk and Leif— he sleeps with one eye open. Waiting for next time.

Oh Christmas Tree

We have our Christmas tree up and I'm pleased to tell you that this is the first year in a long time that I have ornaments all over the tree (and not just from waist up). The dog isn't stealing off the tree and neither are the kids. My tree looks normal and it's kinda a sad mile stone. No more babies to pull the tree's ornaments off. I am still finding baby socks tucked away in strange places-behind the fridge, in the bottom of the toy box, or in the clean undie clothes basket. Maybe I need a puppy? Just kidding, kinda.

Whitewater rafting with The Boy Scouts-Wild Ride

I've taken the local Boy Scout Troop white water rafting a couple of times. I don't know who was more fun, the kids or the adults. I never have a hard time finding adults to go. The first time, I almost fell in a couple of times. The other adult in the raft caught me both times by my life jacket. Nothing like seeing water and the sky-upside down-to get your heart pumping. I was sore from neck to knees for a week. This last time I wisely sat in the middle of the raft and not the back. So WHEN I fell, I was safely still in the raft, and only sore for a day or so. The pictures turned out amazing. I hope the kids keep the pictures so they can show them off to their kids someday. I'm still showing mine off to anyone who will look.

Silly Boy

Oscar, my second oldest son, is my silliest. He was a very serious baby; I don't think he smiled until he was almost 2. Now, he makes me smile everyday with his twisted humor. I think his humor has worn off the most on Tess(as the pooping a block story shows.) When Oscar was 3 he used to do this crab walk sideways thing. His Aunt Rachel would smile and ask to see it and he would do the sideways crab walk only for her. Aunt Rachel just "gets him" like few others do. His latest funny is that he'll say, "Wait for it, wait for it..." or my personal favorite, "I have an important message from the King" and then loudly fart. I never know what to expect with my kids, they keep me guessing and they keep life interesting.

Polar Bear Plunge with The Boy Scout Troop

It's time again for the annual Boy Scout Polar Bear Plunge. I sit here at my computer making up a pledge sheet for the Scouts. And yes, I intend to do the plunge with the Troop again this winter. Why? What on Earth could make a reasonably sane person jump into a freezing cold lake or river? I still don't have an answer for that. Just maybe I'm not a reasonably sane person after all. It is a great way to raise money for Boy Scout camp, and it gives a person bragging rights. Who else do you know that has done one, much less going on the third time? I will post pictures this year, and yes, I will be wearing "a shortie wet suit" again. I'm not wearing just a bathing suit in freezing cold water around a group of 12 year old boys. I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid. Any takers on pledging me $10.00 to jump into a freezing lake on Jan 1, 2009? Here are the pictures form Jan 2008.

The Meanest Mom Award Goes To...

OK, so I guess I have won an award before. I'm the winner of the "Meanest Mom Ever Award." I hear this phrase often from my youngest 2 kids (they are 4 & 6 ) What!? No freeze pops before dinner? Why can't I wear my leotard outside in November? But I want to wear sandals to school! I could go on and on. My sister has the other award, you might have heard of it, the "You're So Mean Award" I guess my kids are just lucky to have an award winning mom.

I got the oil changed on my minivan yesterday. The dealership gave me (and I'm not kidding about this) a "fitness inspection and treatment plan" handout for my van. I didn't even realize my van was sick. Good thing they have a treatment plans available!

Happy Thanksgiving!

OK, I know it's 2 days AFTER Thanksgiving, but Happy Thanksgiving to all. I hope everyone had an enjoyable time with friends and family. No injuries to report this year at our celebration. We had an unfortunate turkey baster incident several years ago. The bulb of my turkey baser went missing (I suspect that it made it's way into the bottom of the toy box) Not wanting to use jar gravy my mom decided to use it anyway. Let's just say that mouth suction was not a good idea. Funny now, yes. Funny then, well, kinda. Sorry mom. I know 2rd degree burns in one's mouth is not a laughing matter. But, it has become the stuff of legends and countless jokes. Not sure what to get a family member for a Christmas gift? Turkey baster! (Or a nose hair clipper-scissors up one's nose was also not a good idea) Both are always good for a laugh and a replay of all the gory details and injuries. Yes my family is strange, but in a good, humorous clannish way. We love our stories and inside jokes. For Christmas we play a dice game to get dollar items, and re-gift tacky gifts, it's a lot of fun and always interesting. Every year we re-wrap a sealed deli pickle and re-gift it. I think the pickle is 4 years old now and starting to get mushy. Weird, yes. Funny, you bet ya!

As I sit here on the computer, I keep having to stop and pull things out of the dogs mouth. Toys, mittens, socks-where is she finding all these socks? Our dog, Bertha is a Newfoundland-Black Lab mix (a sweet but annoying butt-head today). She has enough Black Labrador in her to feel the need to carry things (anything will do) around ALL the time. It's enough to even try St. Francis' patience. An oral fixation at it's worst. I keep waiting for that particular trait to mellow, the hyper running around the table has finally stopped, now if the carrying & chewing thing could just stop! But I really do love the crotch sniffing, mitten chewing, shaggy butt-head.

My Poor Little Tom...

My poor little Tom. Tom is in 1st grade and on Wednesday he got into trouble at school for talking. His teacher told him he "owed her 1 minute after school." What he was suppose to do was stand behind his desk for 1 minute after school, and then he could go catch his bus. School got over at 2:45, at 3:10 a teacher walked by his class room and saw him still standing there behind his desk. (pause for a well deserved "Ah poorTom") The office called me and I had to go and pick him up at school. My poor baby stood behind his desk for 25 minutes (with a full bladder) waiting for the teacher to come back and tell him he could go. He knew he had missed the bus, and was worried he would not only be in trouble for talking, but also for missing his bus. On top of everything else, he was scared to call home for a ride. On his teachers defense, she did call and leave a message apologizing for not making sure he caught his bus. I think he now has a "get out of jail free card" from her for the rest of the year. My poor little Tom.

Winter Camping

I get to go winter camping in Ely, MN in Jan! I'm so excited. Why would anyone in their right mind want to go camping in the winter? No bugs, tons of snow and the silence-it's amazing. I'm going with Oscar's Cub Scout Den and Leif's Boy Scout Troop to the Boy Scout high adventure base in Ely. There are only 3 high adventure bases in the US; Philmont in New Mexico, Sea Base in Florida and Northern Tier in Minnesota. This is the first year they have opened the winter program up to Webelo Cub Scouts, we'll be one of the first groups to go. Sleeping under the stars in the winter is really something, the stars seem so much brighter, the night quieter. I'll post pictures of last years trip when I find them.

They Grow Up So Fast...

I got the new People Magazine's Sexist Men of 2008 (the scratch & sniff one-creepy idea on this issue, but I smelled anyway, does that make me weird?) I was looking at the issue when my 4 year old daughter Tess came up and looking over my shoulder at the picture of Brad Pitt said, "He's handsome. I want to marry him." When I asked about Daniel Craig on the next page she said, "Not him, he's scary" Well, I guess she's got it all planned.

Oscar has written his first book. It's called, "The Kracken Infection" I'm so proud to have influenced him. I'll post his book after it's finished. It's about a boy named Andrex, who's fighting zombies like creatures, it's gory and very good. I think I'll look into kid writing contests for him who knows, how cool would that be if he won one?

Max & Robb went deer hunting again this last weekend, yea-ho, no deer. What would I do with 200 lbs of venison? I don't even like venison. Sorry to admit it, but I've been hoping they didn't get anything. Who says God doesn't answer your prayers?

Call Me Steve...

My son, Oscar went through a phase when he was 4 years old. He insisted we call him Steve. Then he wanted to be called Godzukka. Why would a 4 year old want to change his name? Who knows, maybe he was in a witness protection program, or was dodging an ex-wife. We did humor him and call him something different; the looks we got when out shopping and we had to call out "Godzukka, leave that alone!" Godzukka, now 10 years old, still changes is name once in a while. He started signing his homework "Os" not "Oscar" last month, my funny, funny boy.
My life is rich in humor and that is all that truly matters.

Snow Suit Ride

I'll just start by saying, I love winter, but jeez, it's cold. The kinda of damp cold that gets into your bones-burr. It's time to start putting the kids into snow suits; this time of year reminds me of a cute snow suit story.

This story happened when our niece Jo, was young. Her uncle Scott was giving her an airplane ride. The kind that involve holding a hand and foot and spinning around making the kids "fly". Kinda makes me feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Well, it was winter, Jo was wearing her snow suit and her uncle Scott was giving her an airplane ride. Can you see where this story is going? When the spinning had reached a dizzying speed, the snow suits snaps gave way, opening and Jo flew right out, leaving Scott holding the right mitten, right boot and an empty snow suit. Can you just imagine the look on both of their faces? Now there is a precious moment in the making. Ah, winter memories.

I've Never Won Before...

I just won the "Scareyest Toy Award" I'd like to thank all the little people who made this award possible...
My darling niece just turned 1 last month and we gave her a glow worm thingy-a sea horse that sings and glows when its touched. Well that sweet toy has terrified the child it was meant to delight.
It caused crying, possible nightmares, life long trauma and forced my sister to "Toss the damn thing down the hall way." Sorry Baby, maybe next year we'll get you a Chucky Doll. (Just kidding Sis)
My son also had an experience with one of these Glow Worm type toys. When Osacr was a baby he got a Veggie Tales glowing asparagus doll that sang, "lalalalalalala, lalalalalalalala, I'm not scared." the toy was adorable, very sad, but adorable. My older son, Leif-the tender heart, who was 4 years old at the time told me, " I don't like that toy, it hurts my heart" I guess it was too sad for him also.
I'm still waiting to get the award, will it be a trophy or just the bill from the kid's Shrink?

I Smell Poop

Few smells get your attention faster then poop, baby or puppy for that matter. When my toddler was small we had a puppy. There were simply too many babies running around. I'd be talking on the phone and the smell would hit me. Which one did it come from-baby or dog? A search mission would be required to pinpoint the source for clean up. If I asked my little one, "Are you poopy?" The answer would always be a sweet or offended "No." Asking the dog was pointless, she just wagged her tail at any attention, good or bad. Whoever I was talking to on the phone usually also proclaimed their innocence. Time has chanced the sources of the mysterious vapours that still occasionally linger. My little one is now potty trained, and the dog is house broken, but any phantom smell will still call for a search mission. Stinky teenagers or full garbage cans are now the suspects and the clean ups are far more pleasant. I'll never miss changing diapers or the smells that linger from the diaper pail.

That's My Girl

To say that my 4 year old daughter, Tess is a tomboy is an understatement. With three older brothers her sense of humor is already twisted. Last week her humor hit a new level. She stood with her feet apart and held a toy block behind her back. After much grunting, she dropped the block. It looked like she pooped the toy block. Her older brothers clapped and laughed. Her dad, Max, smiled and turned to me and said, "That's your daughter alright. She must get that from your side, my family doesn't think poop is funny." All I could say between chuckles was, "I'm so proud." I'll take all the credit, that's my girl.

My Little Romeo

I have three sons and one daughter. Leif is 14, Oscar is 10, Tom is 6, and Tess is 4. My youngest son Tom is my Little Romeo. Tom loves the ladies, especially older girls, and the 10 year old girls really dig him back. Last week at gymnastics (he's the only boy in a class of five 5-9 year old girls) an older girl kissed him. She wasn't just any girl, she's the sister of Oscar's best friend. Not only that, but she suppose to marry Oscar someday, not his little brother Tom. A love triangle in the making? Not yet at least, luckly Oscar isn't interested in girls yet, he's only 10. But Tom, I need to keep a close eye on him.

Here's a picture of my Little Romeo.

Notations From The Edge

Well, so it starts. Welcome to the modern age. My journey has a shaky start, what in the world am I doing, starting a blog? We'll see if I can continue. I am the master of Dabbling.

I plan on writing about my family (I have 4 of the funnest kids around) and other observations about life. Not much time today to write, kids have preschool. So bye for now.