Romine Family

Between the Lines

2012-01-24T11:51:00.002-06:00

Like a lot of families our evening schedule can be hectic. By the time everyone is home, fed, bathed and entertained there is little time for anything else. Sometimes it's a blessing that 8:30 rolls around so quickly; sometimes it's a curse.

In order to wrest our evenings back from Cartoon Network and Nintendo I decided that when school started back up we would put the kids to bed 30 minutes earlier and I would read to them. Not put them in bed and hand them a book, but sit by their beds and read.

I chose our first book, "The Wind in the Willows." I had an old, beautiful copy I found at a flea market that I was anxious to read. And while it is lovely, gentle and poetic, it is also a little uneventful - especially in the age of Harry Potter - so I assumed our first chapter would also be our last. But the next night both boys asked if we were reading again. Both boys went to bed with nary a word. Both boys were asleep within 20 minutes.

And here we are 12 chapters later. There has been great discussion regarding our next book choice. The boys have their opinions on what we should read next. I suppose I do too, but moreover I'm just tickled at how much they like our new 'tradition.'

Cheeky

2012-01-23T07:23:00.002-06:00

One of the things I love about Abby is that she can be extremely girly and quite tough at the same time. Growing up with big brothers has thus far added a little spice to her sugar.

For instance ...

Yesterday we were playing a dignified game of Barbie brides in her room in which nearly all of her Barbies, old and young, prepare for their weddings. In the midst of the processional Abby dropped her Barbies and ran to the French doors that separate her room from her brothers' room. She turned and stuck her bottom into the boys' room.

Turns out she was ... well, farting, into her brothers' room.

Let Me Count the Ways

2012-01-09T07:42:00.003-06:00

Dear Abigail,

Thank you for always waking up in a good mood.

Thank you for having such rosy cheeks.

Thank you for your sense of humor, even if it is baffling and embarrassing sometimes.

Thank you for your love of animals.

Thank you for loving Sam.

Thank you for playing Legos and soldiers with Jake. And making him play Barbies.

Thank you for the way you like to touch my cheek whenever you sit in my lap.

Thank you for holding your own against your brothers.

Thank you for never refusing a cuddle.

Thank you for your love of sweeping.

Thank you for your crazy love of anything pink and sparkly.

Thank you for your love of dresses.

Thank you for loving to dance and sing, especially when it's You Are My Sunshine or I Love Rock 'n' Roll.

Thank you for sharing tea with me in the mornings.

Thank you for the tenderness you bring to our home.

Thank you for the past five years.

Happy Birthday Beauty.

Life Lessons

2012-01-04T11:18:00.002-06:00

Sam sings in the Children's Choir of Greater Dallas. As a prelude concert member his director is Ms. Nott. I am a choir escort so I listen and watch every Monday while they practice. I think Ms. Nott is amazing. She is never condescending or impatient, yet she commands respect and cooperation. And the kids respond.

A few days after Christmas we found out that Ms. Nott's husband died suddenly on December 29. Although we don't know her or her family well I thought it was important that Sam and I attend the visitation. I wanted to be supportive but I also thought Ms. Nott would appreciate Sam's presence. She would consider it mature and respectful.

Sam has never been to a visitation before. I explained to him what it would be like.

"Do they serve dinner? Is there a sermon? Will I see the body?"

We circled through the crowd a few times, said hello to the few people we knew and signed the guest book, which was in the room with Ms. Nott's husband. I could tell Sam was anxious but curious. We didn't linger.

On our way out Sam bumped into Ms. Nott, who was surrounded by a circle of adults. She got down on one knee and gave Sam a big hug. And as I expected she told him she was proud of him for coming. She introduced him to her family and told him to be ready when choir starts back up Monday.

All in all we were there 20 minutes but I think Sam was glad he went (and relieved). And I was proud of him - Sam's at an age where he needs to be exposed to these events and understand how to be compassionate and sympathetic, but on the way home I realized the real reason I wanted him to go - to support me.

Goodbye Hello

2011-12-31T19:18:00.005-06:00

So I have been sitting on this new year blog post for a few days now in the hopes that I would come up with something funny, poignant and inspiring. But instead what I keep coming back to is the fact that another Christmas has passed. And now that it is all over there is the annual acknowledgement that the holidays can be messy, complicated and still merry.

Maybe as a kid all you recognize (or choose to recognize) is the merry. And maybe that is why as an adult it is easy to get blue around the holidays - because it isn't all merry. And managing the bad during this supposedly blessed and joyous time of year seems especially difficult. But life is complicated and messy. People are complicated and messy. Love is complicated and messy.

So rather than hope my 2012 is organized and peaceful and productive, I'm simplifying. My hope is that my 2012 - and yours - is less messy than 2011.

Rocker Mom

2011-12-14T13:49:00.003-06:00

The boys had a School of Rock show this past weekend. They only played one song, since they are still a few weeks from the end of the season and this was a show to raise money for the Ronald McDonald House of Dallas, but I continue to be so proud and amazed that they will get up on a stage in front of a club full of strangers and perform.

Bonnie is a School of Rock mom that always takes the best photos of the shows. My blurry, distant digital camera shots are no match. These are two of my favorites from this weekend. I know I'm biased, but really, look at these boys ....

Fayophobia

2011-12-12T16:48:00.003-06:00

General Jolly Apple Snowball, our Elf on the Shelf, arrived as usual on December 1. Apparently 2011 was hard on the General because, contrary to his purpose and mission, he only moves his elf behind about every third day. I assume, and have told the kids, it's because he has a really good view of the whole house from the fireplace mantel.

This morning when Sam left for school Abby found a new elf on our porch. This she-elf looks more like a cross between Susan Boyle and Rip Taylor but she has taken up residence next to General Snowball.

As we left for school this morning I noticed Abby staring at the elves, from a distance.

"What'ca doing Abby?"

"I don't know if I like elves. The smiley ones give me the fears."

Next up, clowns.

All I Want For Christmas

2011-12-08T10:01:00.002-06:00

So this morning on the way to school Abby asked me what I want for Christmas. And while there are a few material things I would be happy to receive if anyone in my family was inspired to buy me a Christmas present, I decided to tell her what I tell my kids every holiday (and every morning, weekend, birthday, Mother's Day) ... all I really want is for the holidays to be calm, happy and restful.

"Oh Mamma ... if that's what you want for Christmas ... I don't think it's gonna turn out very good."

Forget Me Not

2011-12-06T18:38:00.005-06:00

So yesterday I lost my glasses, which, to someone with my eyesight, is a near disaster. To make things worse I haven't been to the eye doctor in a couple of years so to replace them would mean a doctor's appointment, new prescription, new glasses. A week of trouble all because I cannot remember what I did with them in the space of about 30 feet. I had them on while sitting on the couch, didn't have them on when I got in the shower.

Losing my glasses would've bothered me enough, but to add insult to injury I also lost the keys to our storage unit this week, which is especially inconvenient this time of year because we keep our Christmas decorations there.

And then, as soon as I decided my holiday vacation project would be to get our family's digital photos in order, I realized I have also lost Abby's baby pictures. Not all of them, but I can't find any of her first year.

So now I'm obsessing over my glasses, I'm pissed about the storage unit and the hefty fee I'll have to pay a locksmith for one minute of work, and I'm completely forlorn about Abby's photos.

First and foremost I need my glasses so tonight after work I tore through the house, much like the rampage to search for my lost running shoe a month ago. They weren't in the bathroom or my robe pockets or Abby's room or the laundry hamper or the garbage or the bed. On the bright side I did find the toothpaste that Jake hid behind the toilet. And my running shoe. On the other hand, I forgot that while I was looking for my glasses I left the water running in the kitchen sink.

Let me just say that while I may be forgetful at least I'm not oblivious - as the water filled up the sink and poured over the counter, splashed down the cabinets and puddled onto the floor, the boys sat four feet away, happily playing on their DS.

Meanwhile I found my glasses. Under the couch.

P's and Q's

2011-11-17T08:47:00.002-06:00

Friday evening Sam is going to dinner and the symphony with a gaggle of other preteens. Our neighbor, who is preternaturally patient and passionate about the arts, is chaperoning.

I look at it as a good opportunity for Sam to socialize in an environment that doesn't allow atomic drops or choke slams, and a chance to practice table manners while using real utensils and cloth napkins.

Although it may be Jake that needs help with table manners. During lunch over the weekend he actually wiped his nose on his hot dog bun.

What Is Love

2011-11-15T14:58:00.002-06:00

Ever since she could speak Abby has been in love with Caleb, a classmate she's known since she started day care. This fall Caleb left day care to attend a neighborhood preschool, so Abby only sees him on Sunday at church. Most Sundays she prepares notes, drawings or wrapped trinkets to bring to him. And her love does not fade.

Last night we were coloring at the dining table when she told me we should invite Caleb over, move all my candles to the middle of the table, and they could be "romantic" with each other.

"Abby, I know you love Caleb, but why do you love him? What makes you love him instead of another of your classmates?" I asked, not really expecting any relevant answer.

"He's kind. He's funny. I love his curly hair. And when I look in his eyes I see my life."

Maybe she's on to something.

Lost

2011-11-14T16:18:00.007-06:00

Jake lost his first tooth last night. It was so loose and wiggly I think a stiff breeze could've blown it out. But late last night he got tired of it, gave it one hard push with his tongue and out it came.

This morning he had $3 from the Tooth Fairy. According to his classmates, $3 is quite a bit for a tooth.

I bet the Tooth Fairy really had to scramble to come up with $3 cash on a Sunday night.

Something Funny

2011-11-10T07:21:00.002-06:00

So yesterday afternoon, driving home from school, Jake asked me, in all seriousness, "When I have a girlfriend, can I call her Jugs?"

If you're lucky, my friend.

Halloween Tricks

2011-11-02T13:22:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure what got into me (or didn't get into me) but we kind of ignored Halloween this year. I have tubs full of decorations that remained in storage, the few scattered pumpkins on our porch were never carved, candy was bought at the last minute.

Maybe I was picking up on Sam's disinterest - maybe he was picking up on mine - but he didn't want a costume or want to trick or treat this year. Neither did Jake until he saw Abby, who was oblivious to our lack of Halloween spirit.

Eventually Jake donned a costume and he and I made a few loops through our neighborhood.

And it was a beautiful night. The air was cool and crisp, there was a sliver of a moon, the trick or treaters were friendly and excited, neighbors chatted on the sidewalk.

And now, midweek, the costumes have been put away, the candy has been picked through and a cold front is on its way.

Time to work on the Christmas spirit.

Perfect Sense

2011-11-01T18:10:00.002-05:00

Felix the Cat was snuggling with Abby and me early this morning. When he yawned inches from Abby's face, she scrunched up her nose, waved her hand in front of her face and said, "Whew, Felix! You smell like cupcakes."

"If he smells like cupcakes, that would be a good smell," I told her.

"Not if the cupcakes had fish on top," she said.

Ingredients

2011-10-25T13:20:00.002-05:00

You know that Jake can be quite a pisher. He can be spiteful, moody and downright mean, but he also can give great hugs and be extremely kind. This Sunday, before the Sunday School lesson, some of the kids completed profiles - my name is, my favorite color is, my favorite food is - and one of the questions was 'my family is made up of ..."

I didn't look at Jake's profile until today when I was cleaning up the filing cabinet that is also known as the dining room table. According to Jake, his family is made up of ... love.

See? Pisher.

Sick

2011-10-24T08:12:00.003-05:00

Like lots of babies, Sam and Jake had a lot of ear infections. As a new parent I remember being baffled and frustrated by Sam's ear infections, enough so that Jake was only months old before I asked the doctor, "When can he get tubes in his ears?"

But Abby never wrestled with ear infections. Until this weekend. Saturday morning she woke up with a fever but no other symptoms until 11:30 Saturday night. Add in a midnight thunderstorm and a cat fight outside the window, and momma didn't get much sleep Saturday night.

And while tending to a baby with an ear infection is physically and mentally exhausting, it is almost harder when the child can vocalize. Granted it was much easier to diagnose; Abby told me "My left ear feels crunchy. There's a balloon in my ear. It hurts only on this side." (And she was 100% right.) But it was heartbreaking to watch her squirm and try to get comfortable and have her look up at me and say, "Mama, help me!"

So Sunday afternoon I took her to the quick clinic. Of course I wanted her to feel better, but I also didn't think I could manage another sleepless night.

All I can say is that doctors have changed a lot since I was a kid. Even though Abby's doctor is great, the quick clinic has got it down. They gave her a coloring book and taped her finished product to the office door. She immediately befriended another 4-year-old in the waiting room, and when the office staff heard the girls babbling about princesses, they put Enchanted in the DVD player. After her checkup she was given a teddy bear.

So after a dose of antibiotic and some anti-inflammatory ear drops, everyone got a good night's sleep. And through it all Abby didn't lose her spirit or her empathy. When I went to wake her up this morning she was making her bed, and when I thanked her, she said, "Well, after this weekend, I thought you might be tired."

Ouch

2011-10-20T11:52:00.002-05:00

This morning I was sitting at the table with Abby in my lap while she ate her toast and tea. I had one hand around her waist and with the other hand I was replying to a work email, when she said, "When I grow up and my daughter says come and play, I'm going to close my computer and play."

Sigh.

Not So Super Mom

2011-10-11T11:44:00.010-05:00

So Bryon and I had a "discussion" yesterday after I'd had a particularly stressful day. I got up as usual, answered a dozen emails, fed the dog and cats, made 2 lunches and 3 breakfasts (4 if you count mine, which I shouldn't because I usually don't eat it), unclogged one toilet, read a book with Jake, checked two sets of homework, completed Jake's reading log, finished 72 birthday party invitations (yes, 72, and yes I made them ONLY because they had to be in English and Spanish), broke up 2 fights and started my period all before 8:30.

I will not even begin to detail the labyrinthine chaos that occupied me from 3-6. So shortly after 6 I did what I usually do, which is make an impulsive, angry phone call to my husband.

"The problem is that you try to be super mom," he told me.

On one hand I disagree. I know a couple super moms; I am not one of them. They manage the aforementioned tasks with what appears to be little effort and lots of grace. I have the grace of Mary Katherine Gallagher, and the effort? Sometimes it feels downright Herculean. Sisyphean. I am constantly on the go, frequently double booked, often agitated and typically end my day with wine.

On the other hand I agree. Sort of. It's not that I try to be super mom, it's that I HAVE to be. It is my experience and opinion that if you ever let up, the wheels fall off. You can't stop pedalling a bike and expect to coast for very long. I stopped doing laundry Saturday for four hours and it was apocalyptic.

"But you never ask for help and I can't read your mind," he told me. He is right in that I don't think I have ever said to anyone, "I need help." But I can't read my cat's mind either and I can tell when he's hungry. Just by watching him I could tell he was sick last month. I can take one look at Sam and know if he's had a bad day or look at Abby for a split second when she gets up and know how well she slept. You know why? Because I pay attention.

Along with the other activities yesterday a repair man came to fix a shattered window in the boys' room. The whole time he was working I was jumping from the computer to the laundry to the kids' rooms, up and down the stairs, sweeping, cleaning the aforementioned toilet. When the repair man was finished I walked him to the door, he shook my hand and said, "Thank God for the wives and mothers."

Yes, thank you. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, a thank you or a pat on the back would be ... well, super.

Punch Drunk Love

2011-10-09T13:19:00.003-05:00

So Abby and I have this inside "joke." Whenever she does something silly or funny or gets away with something naughty, I ask her, "Abby, what's it like to be you?"

The first few times she didn't get it, but now whenever I ask, she responds with, "Pretty good, actually."

Since the boys are camping with their dad this weekend I have been with Abby 24/7 all weekend, and while I agree it is "pretty good" to be her I think hanging out with Abby is a little like hanging out with a drunk college girl.

Example: Whenever she leaves school she runs to every classmate to give them a hug and tell them she loves them.

Example: Yesterday she'd walked about 2 blocks with one of her shoes loose and flopping. She'd tolerated it that long because she was too busy singing You Are My Sunshine as loud as she could. But when she decided to stop and fix her shoe she hiked up her dress (to reveal her Halloween-themed underwear), plopped down on the busy sidewalk and proceeded to fix her shoe.

Example: We recently had some new bedroom furniture delivered. Abby immediately fixated on one of the delivery men, then stood on the patio, winking and blowing kisses as he traipsed in and out of the house.

Example: Last week the kids and I were at a restaurant waiting for our food when Abby noticed a handsome man at the next table. After staring at him for awhile she slowly got out of her chair, walked over to him, tapped him on the arm and said, "Hi. Do you like rock and roll?" (She was about to serenade him and wanted to know if he preferred Joan Jett to Debbie Reynolds.)

So really, what's it like to be so uninhibited, confident, affectionate and shameless? I can only hope she is able to keep those qualities as she gets older - through puppy love and heartbreaks, past the "mean girls" and callous boys. I hope she can be confident not arrogant, uninhibited but careful and wise. Loved and loving.

I hope that no matter if she is 5, 15, 25 or 50 I will be able to ask "What's it like to be you?" and she will honestly say "pretty good, actually."

Happy

2011-10-04T11:28:00.008-05:00

So Saturday was Jake's 7th birthday. First of all, geesh, seven. If I really try I can remember the first few weeks and everything that's happened since Sunday.

We didn't have a party for Jake on his birthday for several reasons. Firstly, I'm a loser. Secondly, Jake changed his mind about a party several times, up to and including the day before his birthday. Thirdly, you would be surprised at how many venues don't seem to need birthday party business and hence, do not return calls or emails. And lastly, you would be surprised at how many venues think $1200 is an appropriate fee for a child's birthday party.

So instead of a party Jake got to dictate the day, and believe me, for Jake, that's probably better than a party. He didn't have any outrageous requests so despite his "it's my birthday so I can do whatever I want" attitude and his siblings "it may be his birthday but why does he get to do whatever he wants" attitudes I think the day was a success.

He had a monster cinnamon roll for breakfast. Grandma Fran and Grandpa Larry came and we all went to the zoo. Then we went to Target so he could spend his Target gift cards. For the next couple of hours he and Sam played with his new Legos, and for dinner we went to Dave & Buster's so he could play games and win an Angry Bird.

After Dave & Buster's he got to have a camp out in the living room, pick 3 TV shows to watch, and stay up way too late. A good day for a seven-year-old. Heck, a good day for a 37-year-old.

I'm thinking seven might be a banner year for Jake. He loves school and homework, seems whip smart and may even be taking an interest in those drums he's been learning for a year now. He's learned to read and ride his bike. It's funny that for the time being Jake seems to be coasting ...

I love this photo from the zoo. As you can see from Jake's face he is relishing his day. Sam and Abby, not so sure.

Milestones

2011-09-13T14:13:00.007-05:00

So with last week's "fall" weather, Jake and I decided we would ride bikes to school. The ride was going along swimmingly (pardon the mixed metaphor) until Jake thought he heard two schoolmates laughing because he was still using training wheels. I rode by the same two kids and did not hear the snickering, but when a six year old gets it in his head that he's being teased, it isn't easy to change his mind. He decided then and there (and by then and there I mean in the middle of the road, in the front of the carpool lane) that he wasn't riding again until he didn't need the training wheels.

I realize I am a comparatively new parent. I don't have decades of wisdom to draw from - that's what grandparents are for - but in my little experience I believe teaching a kid to ride a bike is one of the hardest things a parent has to do. I might say it is harder than potty training or sleep training because, worst case scenario, you can let a kid cry it out and they will all eventually use the toilet (at least that's what everyone tells a parent struggling to potty train). But you simply cannot strap a kid's feet to a bike, give him a shove and expect it to work.

Part of the problem is that most kids of bicycling age understand enough that you can explain HOW to ride a bike. You can maybe even show them. But they aren't old enough to understand the physics of why a bike stays up and hence, why pedalling is extremely important.

Looking back, my approach with Sam was completely wrong. That is probably why it took weeks to teach him. When he showed interest in riding without training wheels we bought him a new bike, a big one. A big, heavy, tall one. Then I put him on that bike, held on to the back for dear life (his and mine) and ran. I ran up and down the alley, through the church parking lot, behind the hair salon, all the while shouting "Pedal, pedal, pedal" and never letting go. Then we lifted the training wheels slightly so he could try balancing but would catch himself before tipping over. I smugly considered the whole experience a metaphor for raising a child. All the precautions you take to ensure they don't get hurt, pushing them to grow up while still holding on slightly, until the day they do become independent. And you are proud and terrified and excited.

So after Jake's declaration I took the training wheels off his little bike. I had him scoot the bike down the alley without using the pedals. Then he tried pushing off with his feet and balancing without pedalling. When the distances he could balance got longer and longer, he moved his feet up to the pedals. I did not hold on or yell. As a matter of fact I stood at one end of the alley with a cocktail and a camera. It took 20 minutes.

That is not to say it hasn't been without tears or turmoil. We decided we would practice around the neighborhood before we tried riding to school. Outside the alley we encountered all kinds of obstacles, sticks in the road, barking dogs, potholes, wind, sun. And apparently all these obstacles were my fault. I am sad to say that that day ended with a thrown helmet and kicked-over bike.

But I am not deterred. I am already planning how to teach Abby to ride. And once again, in this story, I find a lesson about parenthood. Sometimes it really is about dispensing a little advice, then standing back and letting the kid find his own way while you hope, pray, laugh and worry.

And have a cocktail.

Walk This Way

2011-08-31T16:02:00.004-05:00

Abby is firmly in that stage where she wants to pick out her clothes and, should I say, accouterments.

Her style is somewhat of a cross between Cher, Steven Tyler and Queen Elizabeth.

Case in point.

The Seven Day Itch

2011-08-31T07:40:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was the seventh day of school and if you would've asked me yesterday morning I would've said things were going well. Every day Sam seemed happy and engaged, Jake brought home positive reports, and Abby was adjusting well to her new status at day care - she is one of the oldest in her class now that her FIVE best friends left to attend their respective pre-K schools.

But yesterday morning she sobbed when I dropped her off, something she hasn't done since, well, never. "I just want to be with someone," she cried. Cue the guilt. "She's interacting with the other kids - slowly," her teacher told me. Cue the heartbreak.

And then yesterday at 2 I got a call from Jake's school nurse; he was complaining of a stomachache (he was not sick) and after I picked him up he informed me he was never going back. "Who made up school anyway?!" he demanded to know.

And then, last night, after a long and busy day, the dam that is Sam burst forth. He doesn't feel smart, he's homesick, he doesn't have friends, his classes are hard, his days are long, he has no time for reading or playing.

I tried to address each of his complaints but it wasn't working. "Why can't there be 30 hours in the day? Could I go to school only 4 days a week? Why can't I stay at home for school?"

I specialize in martyrdom, but I did my best to not remind him that not much of my day is my own either. But I did tell him that when you get older, your days fill up. And the best you can hope for is that they fill up with people and things you love. I told him that worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair - it may keep you busy but it gets you nowhere.

All eyes were dry by bedtime and deep down I was thinking everyone would feel a lot better after a good night's sleep. So when I woke Sam this morning I was hopeful that he would be ready to face a new day.

"I don't want to go to school today," he told me.

The Honeymoon Is Over

2011-08-25T10:40:00.003-05:00

How long does it take for the excitement of a new school year to wear off? I'd say about three days.

As of yesterday no one wants to get out of bed in the morning or into bed at night. And already I wake up thinking, "when could I squeeze in a nap?"

How soon until Christmas vacation?

Places Everyone

2011-08-22T10:05:00.008-05:00

So I know I may jinx myself by saying this, but this morning, the first day of school, went off without a hitch. Sam was up on time and at the bus stop by 7:10. Granted, he did get on the wrong bus the first time but he quickly de-bussed and boarded the right one.

While we were at the bus stop Jake got up and ate his breakfast, and he and I left early so we could park and walk in together. Except his idea of "walk in together" means leaving me on the curb while waving me off and whispering, "You can go now."

And just like that, summer is over. It doesn't even seem like we had a summer really. But now that we are back in school I have a few School Year Resolutions I need to get working on:

1. Eat better: We ate out a lot over the summer. And it seemed like everywhere we ate had milkshakes. If a never see a milkshake again, it will be too soon.

2. Get up earlier: This time last year I was in the middle of an exercise boom. I don't know if it was this summer's heat or the fact that I can never stay in an exercise routine for more than a few months, but this was not the summer of exercise. It was the summer of sleep. Alas, the summer of sleep is over.

3. Get moving: Although I'd like to say my summer clothes don't fit because they shrank in the laundry, I think the combination of the aforementioned milkshakes and lack of exercise is really to blame.

4. Clean up: Since the kids were around more than usual this summer I decided it wasn't worth it to tidy up because it was just going to get messy again. Sure, laundry was done (I didn't say put away), floors were swept, garbage dumped. But today the cleaning crusade begins. With any luck I'll finish before next summer.

So while I think the kids had a good summer and I'm glad to get everyone back in a routine, the end of summer is always a little bittersweet. Summer's the perfect metaphor for childhood - carefree, spontaneous, a little messy, and over a little too soon.

Reel Life

2011-07-23T14:57:00.006-05:00

So last week I was reading an online article about movies that asked its readers what was the first movie you saw. I can't say I remember my first movie, although I have some vivid memories about early movies.

One of the first movies I remember was Hugo the Hippo. (It was released it 1974 so maybe that was my first movie.) According to Wikipedia it was considered a box-office failure and not likely for DVD release because of its "psychedelic, weird, politically-incorrect and violent content." (The movie poster calls it "phantasmagorical." That's something I always look for in a kid's movie - phantasmagoria.) The only thing I remember about it was that Hugo was a purple hippo and that one of my feet asleep during the movie.

I saw Star Wars at one of those big, old movie theaters in downtown Peoria. I had my wedding reception in its lobby many years later. I remember two things about Star Wars. One, I was terrified by the scene where Luke returns home to find his aunt and uncle's burned bodies. Two, I had to step over a dead pigeon as we were leaving the theater.

The movie Grease came out in 1978 and I saw it with my neighbors Marcy and Annie. I went on to watch that movie nearly 100 times. It's no wonder we have it on DVD and I now watch it with Abby.

The next year it was the Muppet Movie. I can't say I remember seeing it but I've been told that before it started I whispered to my dad, "I'm so excited."

In 1981 I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark at the Fox Theater with my friend Jennifer Weller. I had a headache and can remember covering my eyes during the melting heads scene near the end.

Sometime in the late 70s or 80s I saw Alien and The Omen at the drive-in. If my mom doesn't know this story it will probably make her cringe, but I suppose my parents had gone to the drive-in with me in tow. I can hear the conversation because it is one Bryon and I would have today, "Oh, it'll be fine. It's late. She'll be asleep the whole time." Little did they know I watched two of the scariest movies EVER from the backseat.

All this to say that in a couple of weeks we are going on vacation, and while, yes I know that the goal of vacation is swimming and playing Uno and working puzzles and quality family time, I bought a truckload of movies for the trip. My goal was to get nothing but old movies, ones I remembered from my childhood - and no, I didn't get Alien.

I'm anxious to see if the Apple Dumping Gang is as good as I remember it.

A Higher Meaning

2011-07-14T10:28:00.003-05:00

So there are a few things I dread hearing in our house. Things like, "What's the cat playing with?" or "What's Tag eating?" are always tops on my list. From the kids, I always worry when I hear, "Mom, don't be mad" or "I need a towel." Lately Abby has added "Pretend you're taking a nap" to the list. This means she has made a mess somewhere and needs time to clean it up.

Like yesterday. It started out innocent enough. "Mom, pretend you're taking a nap and I'll draw you a picture." (Pretend?! I can do you one better!) And sure enough a few minutes later she produced a pink and blue drawing of me, surrounded by stars and hearts and .... white interior semi-gloss latex paint? The same paint I used in the hallway earlier in the week.

"Abby, it's a really pretty picture. Where did you get the white paint?"

"I'll show you. It's so interesting. It's Baby Jesus interesting!"

Apparently "Baby Jesus Interesting" is the highest form of interesting. Kind of spectacular and serendipitous and forbidden all at once.

It turns out she didn't make a mess at all - unless you count the multiple rolls of toilet paper she'd unwound trying to wipe paint off her hands. But there was no paint on the floor or her dress.

Now that's Baby Jesus interesting.

Trouble With a Capital T (That Stands For Tattoo)

2011-07-11T08:53:00.002-05:00

Last night at bedtime Abby told me she is in love with our neighbor Stan. She has met Stan once, but she loves him because he has shiny black hair. (He does have good hair.)

Abby has lots of boyfriends. There's Caleb, a classmate she has loved since they could hug each other. There's Johnny, a teacher at School of Rock. There's Seth, a teacher at School of Rock. And there's Bristen, a teacher at School of Rock. (You see where I'm going with this?)

"So Abby, what is it that you like about the boys at School of Rock?" I asked her.

"Well, you know how they they hold a guitar and go like this?" She stood up on her bed and pretended to strum a guitar.

"Yes. So you like that they play guitar."

"And you know those tattoos up and down their arms?"

Oh boy.

You Never Stop Learning

2011-06-27T06:49:00.002-05:00

So, we had a productive weekend. Not only did we keep the kids busy, accomplish some household tasks and have some fun, I learned some valuable lessons.

1. If you are going to drive 60 mph down the freeway it is best to have the trunk of your minivan closed. Thankfully none of the 10 or so boxes of Goodwill donations or Sam's guitar spilled out, but it was a harrowing 30 seconds, much like a roller coaster ride - chock full of screams, wind and praying.

2. If you leave a gallon of milk in the car overnight, especially in June in Texas, it will go bad. No matter how long you refrigerate it. No matter how cold the refrigerator. (But you'll most likely forget this until you take a big glug of it after scarfing down donuts.)

3. When you get your sassy summer dresses out of the storage closet and start wearing them, it is best to give them the once over for rips, stains, moth holes. Or you might just wear one around town for half a day before realizing there is a quarter-sized, heart-shaped hole just above the crack of your butt.

4. It is always good to have a few extra minutes on a busy morning. Minutes you could spend relaxing, reading the paper, putting on makeup or, I don't know, digging a flaming Pop Tart out of the toaster. You may get out of the house with second-degree burns on your hands and singed eyebrows but thanks to those extra minutes, you won't be stressed about the time.

May the Force Be With You

2011-06-14T14:37:00.004-05:00

When we moved into this house 10 years ago there was a life-size Virgin of Guadalupe painted in the upstairs bedroom, the bedroom that was Jake's nursery and is now the boys' room. I suspect a lot of potential home buyers saw the Virgin (and the pies, flames, hot rods and Elvis portraits) the homeowner before us painted all over the house and ran for the door. But not me. I thought it added character, substance. In time we painted over most of the art work, including the Virgin. I went to a nearby Botanica and purchased her candle. We said her prayer and painted over her.

Who would've thought that years later she'd be replaced by Han Solo.

Sam's guitar teacher is also a painter. I saw some of his murals online and asked him if he could paint Han Solo for the boys.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Over the weekend he spent about eight hours and by Sunday afternoon it was done. If I had a large enough wall in my bedroom I would be considering Princess Leia or maybe Sandy from Grease or possibly Billy Idol. Yes, Billy Idol.

See for yourself. (To understand how large it is look at the one with Abby. Han is about 8 feet by 6 feet.)

Celebrate

2011-06-03T10:24:00.005-05:00

Today is the first day of summer vacation, my birthday and National Donut Day.

We hope you have something to celebrate today.

In His Own Words

2011-05-31T20:31:00.004-05:00

Since the school year is ending the boys are bringing home a year's worth of writing and art. This afternoon Jake and I sat on the floor and paged through folders of his drawings and poems and I found a "poem" he wrote about me.

My mom kisses me.
She says she is proud of me.
My mom's hair is beautiful.
I love my mom.
My mom takes me to the mall.
My mom drops me off at my daddy's office.
Me and my mom go to the movies together.

For all the things he could have said about me I am surprised, flattered and relieved this is what he came up with.

Day Three

2011-05-24T17:29:00.002-05:00

Friday was Jake's turn - fever, headache, overall grumpiness. By Monday it was Abby. Belly ache, fever and diarrhea (or diary as she calls it), although when she returned to school today she told her teacher she'd had a stroke. (Your guess is as good as mine.)

And then today, it's Sam. He woke up with a sore throat and fever and before we could whisper "strep throat" he was puking. He always pukes with strep throat. This time it was in the bathroom, the car, the doctor's office. I am suddenly desperate for hand sanitizer and Lysol.

Bryon goes out of town tomorrow, so I'm eager to see what kind of mutant strep throat-flu-fever I'll wake up with.

Picking Your Battles

2011-05-23T11:05:00.003-05:00

Before I had kids I thought it was really important that children don't eat sweets or watch TV and go to bed on time. And then I had kids. Sure, there are rules I didn't anticipate - table manners, respecting elders, gratitude - but I've loosened up on others, mainly those involving sweets, bedtime, TV and ... underwear.

You see, long ago, round about his third birthday, Jake realized he didn't like underwear. Whined about it, cried about it. For awhile we fought the battle. And then, like good parents do, we gave up. (I now know there are tactile disorders in which some kids actually find certain textures painful so while I know he doesn't have that disorder, there may be some legitimacy to his discomfort.)

Fast forward a few years and the kid never wears underwear, doesn't even own a pair. But last week, in preparation for Jake's end-of-year Spring recital, his teacher sent home costume requirements: All students must wear white underwear because the costumes are white. Since they didn't want to see little rocket ships and Barbies through the white costumes I can only assume they didn't want to see Jake's nethers either.

So I bought him underwear, little white briefs, which he hated. And then Friday morning he woke up sick. There is a part of me that thinks it had to do with his anxiety about wearing the underwear, but he did have a fever. So unless he is a yogi who can alter his heartbeat and body temperature with his mind, I guess he was really sick. Whatever the case, he managed to go another day without underwear.

At least now he has a pair.

The Secret

2011-05-19T09:31:00.002-05:00

When I was a little girl, maybe 6, 7 or 8, I had a white canopy bed. My sheets and pillowcase had tiny yellow, pink and blue flowers on them. I loved that pillowcase. So much so that over the years, despite whatever happened to that canopy bed and the sheets, I kept the pillowcase.

I can't honestly remember when I stopped using it or how I got it from home to college to Texas so many years ago, but I still have it. It's threadbare now, with only the trim showing signs of those little flowers. Because it's so worn it's almost satiny and it's ripped about 2/3 of the way around, but it always seems cool and it smells like baby powder.

So the other night, after the kids were in bed and asleep (I thought), Sam came padding into my room. He was thinking about zombies and didn't want to go to sleep. We talked for awhile about dreams and nightmares and eventually the conversation came around to his lovey, the blue blanket we call Woo, and my pillowcase. After he calmed down and was ready for bed, I tucked him in, went back to my room and dug out the pillowcase. I gave it to him to sleep with.

Last night while Sam was waiting for the bathroom he said, "I know the secret to happiness." Having come off a particularly rough 45 minutes, I said, "Please, do tell."

"It's when someone you love very much gives you something they love very much," and he held up my pillowcase.

He just may be right.

(Incidentally I found the flat sheet that matched my pillowcase on Etsy today and bought it.)

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-05-18T19:48:00.001-05:00

So Abby called her teacher a damn fool today. Yay.

Ironically I received my mother-of-the-year medal in today's mail.

About Mother's Day

2011-05-11T10:00:00.004-05:00

Before I sat down to write this I re-read my Mother's Day posts from previous years. In most of them I am a little, well, underwhelmed, by my family's recognition of the day. This year could've been much the same. The morning started off chaotic because we needed to be three different places at once. But we reconvened at a local bar for the boys' School of Rock concert.

And all I can say is that the best Mother's Day gift I have ever received was that concert. I'm not sure I have ever been as proud, stunned, amazed and amused by my kids.

Amen

2011-04-27T11:11:00.002-05:00

On the wall in the guest bedroom of my grandmother's house there used to be a wooden plaque with a prayer. As a kid I memorized that prayer. I loved its rhyme and the images it conjured. It wasn't scary like Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep or formidable like the Lord's Prayer.

When my kids were little I used to sing it to them - conveniently enough it had the exact same tune of a popular Uncle Kracker song - and when they were old enough to say prayers, I would say a verse and they would repeat it.

But recently Abby started insisting on her own prayers. Just like my method she says a "verse" and I repeat it. Her prayers are typically sweet and weird and funny. Thanks to her, unicorns and rainbows and princesses go to bed each night fully blessed.

Last night after thanking God for her friends and brothers and the stars and flowers, she closed with "Keep the earth safe and keep my doors closed. Amen."

Adore

2011-04-08T12:35:00.005-05:00

It's been 10 months since Abby cut her own hair. Just this month it was finally shaggy enough to warrant a haircut.

I have to admit I never thought it would take this long to grow out, but it's also hard to believe it's been 10 months.

I'll try not to be too proud - look where it got me last time - but I do think she's awful cute.

Biology 101

2011-04-05T08:19:00.002-05:00

You know those big, spindly, flittery mosquitoes that seem to come around this time of year? Well Sam has been calling them "ash mosquitoes." All because of me. The other day as I was shushing one away I accidentally called them "big ass mosquitoes" and when he called me on it I told him they are called ash mosquitoes.

Probably a close relative of scary ash spiders and creepy ash cockroaches.

Do As I Say

2011-03-28T11:56:00.002-05:00

I do my best to not curse in front of the kids. Sometimes something might slip out, but I'm more apt to use nonsense words. In fact, I was quite proud of myself the other day when I said "son of a gun" in a moment of road rage. But apparently I need to censor myself a little better because over the weekend, during a debate about donuts, Abby said, "OK, I'll put the flippin' donut back."

(Incidentally, I believe my kids would do just about anything for a donut. I like donuts, but geesh. Really?)

Sticks and Stones

2011-03-21T18:26:00.014-05:00

Video games. A parent's best friend and worst nightmare. If you need your kid, your son probably, to sit quietly on a plane ride or long drive, a new video game is a godsend. But just when you're singing its praises and thinking, "Oh, a good 'ol video game isn't so bad," it gets in the way of the simplest activities, like blinking or urinating in a toilet.

In anticipation of a Spring Break vacation Bryon bought the boys Pokemon Black and Pokemon White for Nintendo DS. Apparently Pokemon Black and Pokemon White are hot right now and appeal to a range of players. I believe my 16-year-old nephew mowed down a few 8-year-olds to get his copy. (I'm looking at you John Wyatt.)

Well we didn't go anywhere and toward the end of our Spring Break stay-cation, when the wheels were really falling off, we agreed that nobody deserved a video game. But the boys caught on, and when they found out Pokemon Black and Pokemon White were in the house but not in their hot little hands, you would've thought we were depriving them of food and oxygen.

When we finally turned over the games, the boys had agreed to a new task/reward system that includes feeding the pets, doing dishes, making beds, guitar and drum practice, carrying groceries and kissing my butt as much as possible.

All was well until about 4:30 today when Sam lost his game. I don't understand how this happens with kids but he was lying across Jake's bed playing the game, game in hand. Not 30 seconds later, it had disappeared.

My kids have two ways to look for lost things. One, they stand in a single spot and spin, much like a water sprinkler. Or, they remove all the cushions from the couch.

This afternoon I was working and in the middle of something a little confusing so I told Sam he had to look on his own for 10 minutes before I could help.

"You're a big help," he yelled at me, before stomping upstairs, to sprinkler-spin presumably.

I was simultaneously hurt and angered by his remark. On one hand, he was right. I wasn't helping at all. A kinder, gentler mother would probably sigh and get up and smile while turning over rugs and lifting furniture.

On the other hand, there comes a time, somewhere after a ninth birthday I have decided, that "you lost it, you find it." I never saw these video games; they went straight from Bryon to the boys to their DS to the sanctum of lost toys. I didn't ask Sam to help me find my favorite bottle of nail polish or my black flats.

But a few minutes after the hurtful remark, I went up to help him and sure enough he was standing in the middle of his room staring. Since he had been lying on Jake's bed, I went over and flicked the bedspread and sure enough, there was the game.

Now if I could just find my flats.

Yee Haw

2011-03-11T08:33:00.003-06:00

To cap off the weeklong celebration of all things Texas, Jake's class got to dress like cowboys today. Jake was thrilled. Sam was mortified. I guess that's the difference between six years old and nine years old.

The Ugly Truth

2011-03-09T11:19:00.002-06:00

Those who know me know I love animals. I have had at least one pet, usually two or three, all my life. I willingly allowed a family of raccoons to come into our house every day for three years to eat. I once stopped my car mid-road to move a turtle to safety. I take in strays. I donate to the SPCA. I buy cleaning supplies for animal services. I think the animal shelter is one of the saddest places on earth, and despite my beliefs in justice, religion and redemption, I think Michael Vick should spend the rest of his life in jail, watching videos of kittens and puppies.

I say all this because I, of all people, ran over my neighbors' cat on Sunday. My neighbors, Cathey Ann and Blackie, who are like family. And Bully the cat, the 18-year-old wise man of the block. The cat that all the others respected. The cat that was welcomed at homes up and down our street. The cat that liked to sit in my red chair and look out the window and sleep on top of my washing machine.

Because of Bully's age, the vet at the emergency clinic (where I was just 2 months ago with Phineas) said he wasn't a good candidate for surgery and so Blackie and I sat with him while the vet put him to sleep. Cathey Ann, bless her heart, was in the air somewhere over Milwaukee.

Blackie and I buried him next to Phineas.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Catching Up

2011-03-08T10:55:00.002-06:00

In the month of February all three kids and I had the flu. (Me twice, yay!) Jake didn't complain much but he was very lethargic and compliant - sure signs he didn't feel well. One day, at the height of his flu, he slept from 11 a.m. until 7 a.m. the next morning. And when he woke up he was a different kid.

You see, Jake has been known to be obstinate. And irritable. And defensive. Like a typical 6-year-old, some people ask. No, not like a typical 6-year-old, unless that 6-year-old is Mel Gibson.

But truly since that day he has been sweet, gracious, helpful. He sits and practices his alphabet, he colors, he cleans up after himself (and others), he plays with Abby. He hugs.

I'm not saying the 24-hour nap and his behavior are actually related, but if I ever have to pinpoint the time his little brain and body finally synchronized, it was that Tuesday morning.

Paving the Way

2011-03-07T11:27:00.001-06:00

Sam: Do you think Jesus invented cement?

Me: No. No I do not.

Sam: Yeah. He was probably too busy saving souls and performing miracles.

Shave and a Haircut

2011-02-16T21:07:00.002-06:00

When Sam is a teenager and we are fighting about dating, driving, college or girls, I need to remember today - our first fight about something somewhat mature. A haircut.

For several months now Sam has been sporting a very shaggy hair "style." I personally think he looks better with a shorter cut, clean cut if you will, but thanks to Justin Beiber, even boys who don't like the Bieb know girls like boys who look like the Bieb.

But the final straw was Sunday during church. Sam's choir was singing and his choir teacher made a special effort to tamp down his hair before their performance. A sign from God (or fairly close - a church choir director) to cut that hair.

So today after school we made a surprise trip to the barber shop. No Cool Cuts. No video games. No toys. The barber shop. Adult men talking about sports and the weather. $1o cash.

The minute the barber finished and Sam got down I knew there was going to be trouble. I know that face and he was holding back anger and tears. He held it in until we got home, then he kicked open the door, threw down his backpack and stamped upstairs.

"Sam! Get down here. I have one thing to say about this, and you'll stand here and listen ... Do you trust me?"

"You mean before today?"

"Do you trust that I want you to be happy and safe?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I do. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to have a bad haircut any more than you do. I wouldn't sit there and let him give you a bad haircut. But moreover, it's hair. It will grow back. Don't you think I've had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad has had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad wishes he had hair? So I suggest you man up and find something else to complain about."

After about 30 minutes he came to ask me for a snack as if nothing had happened. I pulled him into the bathroom and showed him how good it could look with some hair gel in it. And he started to turn around.

And then the fountain of truth, Abby, came home. The first thing she said ... "Sam, you don't look so handsome with your hair all gone like that."

Yes, Again

2011-02-16T13:27:00.004-06:00

At the risk of sounding completely negligent and irresponsible, my cat Black Cat has disappeared. As always I let him out last Wednesday morning and he hasn't come back. I've put up posters, visited shelters, walked the alley, fielded phone calls from people trying to sell me their cats, and nothing.

He was always a renegade, that cat, so I haven't given up hope that he'll saunter in one of these mornings and give me a head butt. But I do miss him terribly and not knowing where he is is breaking my heart.

I feel a little like God or the patron saint of cats or Mother Nature is mad at me.

Home Again, Home Again

2011-02-09T08:59:00.000-06:00

Ice and sleet. No school.

The Bright Side

2011-02-06T19:02:00.007-06:00

Now that last week's unprecedented weather is over, I can look back and say, "It wasn't really that bad." The way I see it there were pros and cons to being shut in all week long.

Pro: Quality time with the kids: I could complain about many things from last week but my kids' behavior really isn't one of them. Sure, they were a little stir crazy, but if I overlook that, they were considerate, patient, respectful and yes, even helpful.

Con: Quality time with the kids means we will probably still be in school mid-June - when it's 110 degrees.

Pro: We saved money on utilities: We didn't have hot water from Tuesday until Saturday evening. Even though our water bill isn't inordinately high, I would bet we saved a little by running very little water those five days.

Con: The money we spent on paper plates, cups and silverware, space heaters, pipe warmers, electric blankets, car batteries and food - I was surprised by how much my kids can eat in five days, especially since no one wants to eat the same thing or at the same time.

Pro: Money saved on daily expenses. Over the course of a week we can spend a lot on sundries just going to and from work, running errands at lunch, and filling up the cars. Not so much when you are snowed in.

Con: The urge I had to make up for the spending hiatus by hitting the mall and Target no less than 6 times in 48 hours.

Pro: We ate lots of meals together.

Con: We ate lots of meals together. And mid-morning snacks and cookies (because the oven kept the kitchen warm, of course) and hot chocolate and wine (me, not the kids) and carbs, carbs, carbs. I'm not sure what it is about the cold weather that made me want to eat wads of cookie dough and potato chips all day long.

So, here it is Sunday. Things are mostly back to normal. At least until Tuesday when we are supposed to get the next round of winter weather.

Rock Stars

2011-02-03T14:15:00.005-06:00

A couple of weeks back the boys had their end-of-season School of Rock show. For the first performance Bryon stayed home with Abby and I went alone with the boys. We had to be there early to set up so between the set up and the show the boys and I ate bar food and played pool. A fun afternoon together ... in a bar. Bonnie from School of Rock always takes great photos of the kids during their performances. Since I didn't bring the camera I really appreciated these photos she posted on Facebook.

Jake and his teacher, the extraordinarily patient and talented Seth

Sam during his first vocal performance

Not So Fast

2011-02-02T15:05:00.001-06:00

OK, so shortly after posting and re-reading the last blog entry, I decided to get up off my sorrowful behind, put on some Berry Bella lip gloss, do a few jumping jacks, make some tea and buy the 500 Days of Summer soundtrack off iTunes.

I'm feeling much better. So much so, I'm going to ignore the banging noises coming from upstairs and the fact that Abby just ran by me with a roll of toilet paper and a bottle of Simple Green that she said was for Jake's butt.

That's Why

2011-02-02T12:30:00.002-06:00

Leonardo the Terrible Monster is one of my kids' favorite books. In it, a little monster named Leonardo befriends a boy named Sam who is crying. It turns out that among many other ailments and inconveniences, Sam broke his favorite toy, stubbed his toe, got bird poop in his hair and has a stomachache.

Today I feel a little like Sam. We are on day two of our snow in and it's quickly losing its charm. So, much like the character Sam, I am irritable and restless because:

My feet are freezing and there are rolling blackouts and we have no hot water and laundry is piling up and we have no clean dishes and I can't run the dishwasher and the thermostat says its 50 degrees in here and I'm trying to work under the covers in my bed and the kids won't put on socks and we are out of cat and dog food and Sam's science fair project is due Saturday and the kids have started playing with juice pouches and Abby won't stop sneaking potato chips and I have no idea what's going on in Egypt and my car window is frozen open.

That's why.

Highs and Lows

2011-01-23T18:10:00.006-06:00

Yesterday Sam competed in an academic fair. His category was spelling. You may remember he participated in the poetry competition last year. I could write about how I had many conversations with him about practicing or how I lectured him a couple of times on why he should practice. But I'd rather just say ... he won.

He spent the morning at the nearby high school taking the spelling test and we all piled into the school's auditorium in the afternoon for the awards ceremony, a ceremony that had no order or organization whatsoever. They jumped from first grade spelling to fifth grade poetry to third grade math, and of course, Sam's category was last. The auditorium was nearly empty, the stragglers were taking down the balloons. And then they announced Sam's category. Sixth place, tie. Fourth place, another student from Sam's school. Third place, another student from Sam's school. Second place. And then, first place ... Sam Romine. To be honest I didn't even hear his last name. As I have said before there are things the kids do every day that make me proud. Sam's compassion for a sick Abby last week, for example. But seeing Sam's beaming grin was a highlight.

And then this morning I got up before the kids, took a shower, made some tea and headed out to get the paper when I noticed ... a cat in the street. And yes, it was my cat. About the same time I started down the driveway my very kind neighbor Monty walked into the street and picked up the cat. "Monty, don't tell me that's Phineas." Yes, it was.

Sometime early this morning Phineas was hit by a car in front of our house. From what I saw, he wasn't banged up so my hope is that whatever happened happened quick. Monty and our neighbors Blackie and Cathey Ann buried him in the side yard this morning.

Jake and Sam were initially upset. Abby, well, she's four. But as I explained to them this morning, the sadness will pass. And it did, for them.

But, damn it, I'm a mess. He was a great cat. Sweet, patient, cuddly. He'd just recovered from the tail incident. He was only a year old.

Years ago, before the kids, one of my cats died unexpectedly and my vet sent me a sympathy card. I've always remembered the verse. If you are not a pet lover (bless your shriveled little black heart), you may find this melodramatic. But if you have ever owned a pet that has blessed you with its love, loyalty and gratitude, you'll forgive the melodrama.

Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you.
Twas heaven here with you,
I loved you so.

I will miss you Phineas.

Day 6

2011-01-20T22:07:00.006-06:00

Last Saturday morning Sam woke up queasy. He had eaten an early dinner the night before so I, thinking his blood sugar was low, forced him to eat some toast and juice. Toast and juice that came up several times over the next couple of hours.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. About the time Sam started feeling better, Jake was befelled by a headache and fever, which triggered his asthma. By Monday he was really puny, puny enough to sleep from 11 a.m. Monday to 7 a.m. Tuesday, which was about the time I got sick (and Bryon left town on a business trip of course.)

Conveniently, the boys didn't have school Monday or Tuesday but the very mention of school on Wednesday brought Jake to tears, and when Sam woke up with a sore throat and Abby woke up with a fever, I threw in the towel.

By this evening I thought we were all improving and then Abby started vomiting. I honestly can't remember the last time she was sick with anything. Tonight's turn of events threw her. She was confused (she thought she needed to throw up in the bathtub), apologetic ("tell Daddy I'm so sorry") and embarrassed ("Jesus doesn't like you to throw up.") Hopefully she'll get a good night's sleep. I could use one too, but tonight I think I'll be sleeping with one ear and one eye open.

Paradoxes

2011-01-19T09:02:00.002-06:00

I do not hide the fact that I don't support our governor, Rick Perry. He was recently elected to an unprecedented fourth term here in Texas, proof that our slipshod educational system is finally taking its toll.

Today the Dallas Morning News printed excerpts of Perry's inaugural address given during the inaugural celebration, which sadly was pared down to only one gala ball.

In his inaugural address Perry stressed the challenges presented by our state's budget shortfall but said Texas will support "the frail, the young, the elderly and those who suffer abuse." He said his final budget will protect those whose "needs are greater than the resources at their disposal."

Here is where Perry and his speechwriters need to pause and look up "paradox" in the dictionary because, despite his dedication to our state's poor, huddled masses, he proposes to cut public school funding and remedial reading programs, eliminate funding for teacher merit pay, cut financial aid, close community colleges, decrease overall Medicaid spending, close facilities for the mentally disabled, withhold community-based treatments for the mentally ill, cut child abuse prevention funds and vocational rehabilitation programs for the deaf, blind and disabled, and eliminate legal services for the poor.

Last I checked kids in public schools and remedial reading programs are the young. College students seeking financial aid are the very definition of those whose needs are greater than their resources. Children who have been subjected to physical and mental abuse are by definition "those who suffer abuse." Blind, deaf and mentally disabled citizens are part of our state's "frail" population.

Believe it or not, I am not a bleeding heart liberal. I find it hard to accept that a convicted murderer serving a life sentence has access to better health care and educational resources than many of the kids in my neighborhood. I'm not sure that an illegal immigrant should be able to go to nearby Parkland for free medical care but my friend Achlee can't afford prenatal checkups.

But I also find it interesting that our state's $203 million Emerging Technology Fund, which invests in high-tech start ups, awards a large percentage of those funds to Perry's campaign donors. Or that we spend hundreds of millions to pretty up our highways. Or that we allocated tens of millions to a Superbowl "trust fund."

Maybe it's simply that our politicians are out of touch. Maybe those who flippantly approve these cuts should be forced to send their kids to the public schools in their districts. Maybe they should be forced to sit in Parkland's ER for a day before getting treated for chest pains. Perhaps they should have to tell their son that despite his good grades he can only go to a local community college (unless you live in Odessa or west of Fort Worth).

I wish I had a solution. I wish someone had a solution. I certainly don't think Rick Perry does.

Halfway

2011-01-13T09:51:00.003-06:00

When Sam turned 9 in December my mom reminded me that in just as many years he'll be 18.

18.

Driving. Considering college. Maybe dating.

Which brings me to, coincidentally, my nephew Tyler. Today is his 18th birthday. I only know what I know about Tyler from my mom and my sister, his mother. Tyler's a smart kid, athletic. Tall in a way you can never anticipate when your son is a child. He also has spectacular taste in music. And he is hard on his mom. A mom who wants nothing but success and comfort for him. A mom who happens to be extremely patient, kind, funny and smart.

I suppose it's a natural progression - for a teenager to become disenchanted with his parents, his family. Otherwise, he might never leave. But the further I get from my teenage years and the closer I get to, uh, the non-teenage years, the more it seems that the last place an 18-year-old boy needs to be is in a college, far away from home.

After all, is there anything more confused, confusing, dumb, smart and confident as an 18-year-old boy? All those qualities meld into a creature that doesn't want to listen to anybody, lest someone tell them they aren't prepared, aren't ready.

I think the crux of the impasse is that at 18 you just don't know what you don't know. And there are those of us who think it is our job (and as moms, it kind of is) to introduce you to what you don't know with as little nagging and preaching as possible. Believe it or not, we don't like to nag or preach. But we also don't want you to make mistakes or get hurt. And if along the way you find something we say interesting or savvy, well, that would be good too.

But if you take away only one thing, please know that we all love you.

And we are freaked out that you are 18.

All Things Bright and Beautiful

2011-01-10T14:15:00.003-06:00

January 9 was Abby's fourth birthday.

I would like to say she woke up to her favorite breakfast, with her family around her, singing Happy Birthday, indulging her and hanging on her every word.

But Sam spent the night at a friend's, Jake woke up crabby (and a little jealous I think), we needed groceries, Bryon slept in and I, admittedly, spent an inappropriate amount of time bemoaning the fact that we didn't provide a better celebration.

When the pelting rain turned to snow our afternoon commitments were cancelled so I was able to get some balloons, cupcakes and lots of pink paper and ribbon. Late in the evening we gathered around the table, sang Happy Birthday and she opened her presents.

As with most things Abby was pleased, but her enjoyment made me feel guilty; I just didn't feel that our lackluster celebration was worthy of her.

So, Abby, if you read this one day ... Don't be fooled. Your dad and I and your brothers - yes, those gross, silly, restless boys - think you hung the moon. Not a day goes by that you don't surprise, amuse and bewitch us. You are the 13th bagel, the cherry on top, the three-day weekend.

Expect the Unexpected

2011-01-06T10:22:00.002-06:00

After Sam's bath last night he retired to the living room and I went to clean up his mess. In the bathtub was a toy pistol, binoculars, a ball of red yarn and a pair of underpants.

The mind reels.

Commitments

2011-01-04T15:45:00.002-06:00

This morning Abby and I cut through the church's sanctuary to get to her classroom.

"Look. The trees and decorations are gone," I told her.

"Yep. The holidays are over," she said.

And boy are they. I know we are fortunate to have off the time that we do over the holidays but sometimes that January wallop doesn't seem worth it. In the next three weeks we have one church potluck dinner, Abby's birthday, a science project, two School of Rock performances, four rehearsals, four music lessons, one Spelling Bee, the Dallas Bar Association Inaugural Dinner, two Adventure Guides camp outs and one Science Fair project.

I hate to wish my time away but I'm already looking forward to February.

Backstories

2011-01-04T10:35:00.003-06:00

So, here in all the glorious, gory details are two of my holiday stories - the two that pushed my holiday spirit to the ground and kicked dirt in its face.

First, Christmas Eve. In the past we have stored the surprise Christmas gifts (i.e. Santa's gifts) in our neighbor's garage. But this year, our neighbors were travelling quite a bit during the holidays so we opted for our storage unit. Very convenient, we thought. Drop the goods off on the way home from shopping, we thought. The kids will never sneak a peek of toys in the trunk or one of us hurrying across the backyard with an armful of Toys R Us bags, we thought.

So after Christmas Eve service, we eat, the kids play and when they finally go to bed I go to the storage unit to get the presents. How sneaky! How deft! I am giddy. Until ... I turn the corner of our storage unit and it is padlocked. I stared at that padlock for a good 60 seconds, really trying to make sure that what I saw was what I saw. And then, on this most silent and holy night, I threw down my keys and yelled the mother of curse words. Then I panicked. I jiggled the lock. I twisted it, I tried my own set of keys (why I don't know). I drove to the manager's office. Closed. I drove home.

Luckily, thankfully, earlier in the year we bought bolt cutters to cut an old lock in our garage. Through wild gestures and whispering I explained to Bryon what was happening. He grabbed the bolt cutters, we sped to the storage unit and broke into our own unit. I spent the rest of the evening convinced the police were on their way.

On to Christmas morning. I had put the previous night's events behind me, the kids were enjoying their presents, the adults were drinking coffee, eating pastries, relaxing. Bryon started fixing our traditional Christmas morning breakfast. I started clearing out paper, moving boxes and toys, making beds. Phineas the Cat was sleeping soundly on Abby's bed so I gently scooped him up to pull the comforter under him. That's when I saw the blood. And then I noticed his tail was nearly severed about halfway down. It looked like a red shoestring connecting two parts of perfectly intact tail. My mom and I took him to the emergency clinic. Several hours later he emerged, hopped up on morphine, with a fancy e-collar and a three-inch tail.

So here I am, a couple of weeks later, no worse for the wear, really. At least it will be a Christmas I'll never forget.

Resolve

2011-01-02T11:00:00.002-06:00

Yes, I am making new year's resolutions. No, I don't expect to follow all of them. I could simply say I want to be better - I think that summarizes this list - but that could be hard to measure so in no particular order, I want to:

1. Get exercising again. I started last year and actually felt really good. I was more awake, refreshed, limber, rested. But as it happens, I dropped off toward the end of the year. My goal is to be able to run Dallas' Turkey Trot next Thanksgiving.

2. Start sewing. This is always on my list. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. My sewing machine and a couple hundred dollars worth of fabric and supplies sits in the corner mocking me.

3. Be less snarky. I'm awfully cynical and a middle-aged cynic is not as much fun as a young one. And now I've noticed that my kids tend to be cynical and snarky. This is not something I want to pass on. My penchant for trivia or spelling prowess, maybe, but not my cynicism.

4. Use less laundry detergent. Yes, this is a goal. Do you measure your laundry detergent? I didn't, until recently, when I realized I use about three times as much as I need with each load.

5. Drink less wine. Let's just say that if I drink even one glass of wine I wake up oogy. It's not worth it. Instead of reaching for a glass of wine when I'm stressed I'm going to drink a glass of water and run around the block. That or eat a bag of Fritos.

5. Watch more TV. Good TV, that is. I spend a silly amount of time online reading gossip and coveting homes I'll never own. Instead I'm going to watch TV. I've heard a lot about this show called 30 Rock. (Kidding, sort of.)

6. Buy less, experience more. We (I) buy the kids a lot of junk. This year I am going to buy them less and introduce them to more. Local museums, the theatre. I want to take Sam to some concerts. I want to visit the Trinity River Audubon Center. And this year, a family vacation.

7. Get financially fit. Hi, my name is Ann and I'm a shopaholic. I really am. I am that person who shops because I'm sad, because I'm happy, because I deserve it, because I'm mad at you, because the kids drive me crazy. This year, that will stop.

So here I go. Onward and upward.

Have Yourself a Chaotic Little Christmas

2010-12-27T15:41:00.007-06:00

Like any good Christmas, the 2010 Romine family Christmas involved presents, cookies, shepherds, breaking and entering, blood, the ER, stitches, fighting and crying.

So, in keeping with the fading holiday spirit, here is a recap of our holiday to the tune of the 12 days of Christmas:

This year for our Christmas Santa gave to me:

12 dozen cookies
11 Princess Barbies
10 games of Uno
9 lifelike dinosaurs
8 trips to Northpark
7 temper tantrums
6 holiday movies
500 dollar vet bill
4 feline stitches
3 trips to Santa
2 grumpy parents
and 1 amputation of my cat's tail

If I don't have a physical and mental breakdown in the next couple of days, I'll explain later.

(I hope your holidays were merry and bright.)

The Other Christmas Story

2010-12-16T11:34:00.002-06:00

Abby attends a Christian day care so this time of year she reads about Jesus, sings about Jesus, colors Jesus, learns the Jesus dance. Like many kids her age, she has a different spin on Jesus' birth.

Apparently Mary and Jovis couldn't get a hotel so they spent the night at Miss Phyllicia's house, and that's where Jesus was born.

The Blog's Honest Truth

2010-12-15T18:22:00.011-06:00

One thing about blogs, memoirs, autobiographies ... it is possible - and tempting - to sometimes exaggerate. To lie even.

That said, I am finding my December 'random acts of kindness' initiative harder than I expected. Harder isn't even the right word. Inconvenient maybe. Elusive. Even though I look for opportunities each day, I am finding them few and far between, unless they involve me buying something for a stranger or giving someone food or flowers. My so-called random acts have become very intentional.

I did keep it up until December 11, even though I last blogged about it on December 7. In the last few days I have let an overwhelmed mom with a crying baby in front of me at the grocery store, even though I had one item and she had a full cart. One day I took out my neighbor's garbage cans (and made Sam bring them in). One day I bought coffee and donuts for a homeless man.

I suppose I could've changed my definition of a random act and taken an easier way out - if I simply wouldn't succumb to road rage I would accomplish several kind acts each day - because what I'm finding is that the small interactions count just as much. Saying hello to strangers on an elevator. Smiling at everyone who passes you in the mall. Done and done.

I guess I was looking for more substantial opportunities. Those pay-it-forward moments you just know are going to change someone's day. But I'm not giving up. I don't consider this experiment a failure yet. It has made me aware of those moments when a small interaction - random, anonymous or otherwise - can lift your sprits a bit.

December 6

2010-12-07T16:14:00.001-06:00

Another "planned" not-so-random act.

On Monday Sam's church choir sang at a retirement community. I took some boxes of hot chocolate mixes and handed them out to residents and choir teachers.

And like most events that involve the church, hymns, Christmas carols, Sam, youth or old people, I did my best to not sob the entire time. (For the record I also cry during the national anthem, anytime veterans are recognized, when I see members of the Armed Forces, at Sesame Street live, the circus, my kids' Christmas programs ... the list goes on).

As I sat there and listened to the choir sing I watched all the old people in the audience, who seemed so enchanted, and wondered how the meaning and spirit of Christmas changes when you get older. If you don't have family or young people or children, does Christmas become more about whatever religious meaning it holds for you? Do you become bitter or melancholy? Does listening to children sing carols make you happy or sad or wistful?

I know that the meaning and spirit of the holidays is different for me than for my kids. And I think one thing I need to remember, if I get bogged down by to-do lists or weather or commitments, is to celebrate and enjoy the holidays as my kids do. Sure, for them it's about presents. But, even if they can't articulate it, it's the spirit and the frivolity and the family. Even Jake, my little ball of hate, asked me if we were going to have a Christmas like last year. When I asked him what that meant he didn't mention the presents, he mentioned the family.

December 5

2010-12-06T09:21:00.005-06:00

On Sunday Jake and Sam both sang during church. Jake's choir is composed of 10 or so wee ones in kindergarten or first grade. I sat in on choir practices this year, and this little choir has come a long way. I truly hope the congregation appreciates what it takes to get them to learn and perform a song.

So today's gift was planned - a Star Wars book for Jake's choir teacher and her son, who performs in the choir and shares Jake's love of Star Wars.

December 4

2010-12-06T09:18:00.001-06:00

Between haircuts and music lessons and groceries, I left a poinsettia on a neighbor's porch.

December 3

2010-12-06T09:10:00.002-06:00

I don't like the cold so I can't explain why on cold mornings, usually in my pajamas and robe, I love to walk down the driveway and get the newspaper. I like the brisk air, the quiet. I love seeing the Christmas tree from the street. And I love walking back into the house and having the warmth instantly hit you.

So Friday's random act was a little selfish. I quickly ran up and down our side of the street and put my neighbors' newspapers at their front door. Maybe some people don't like that cold walk to get the paper as much as I do.

December 2

2010-12-02T11:08:00.002-06:00

Let me start by saying this day's random act of kindness might be to pour myself a glass of Chardonnay before noon. Not the best morning.

I got a phone call from work before 7 a.m.

Jake HATED today's Advent surprise.

I'm still in my pajamas.

I didn't even get Abby to day care.

But I managed a spontaneous and somewhat desperate act ... After using my Starbucks gift card, I handed it and its $10 balance to someone standing at a crosswalk.

He may not like Starbucks but maybe he'll have an interesting story to tell.

December 1

2010-12-01T19:23:00.005-06:00

So the kids woke up to their first Advent surprise: stickers. Soon after remembering it was December 1, Jake realized it was the day General Snowball usually arrives so at 6:45 we had a fast hunt through the house for the General. He was perched on the mantle, in between the Christmas carollers, grinning his creepy grin.

Regarding my random acts of kindness ... A couple of thoughts. It is slightly hard to be random and kind when, like me, you don't interact with people. Today made me aware of how few people I actually talk to in a day, outside of my family. Second thought ... I debated whether to keep track of my random acts here. I'm not doing it for an audience, but an audience just might keep my honest.

So here goes ... Today I gave two bags of gently used girls' clothes to one of the teachers at Abby's school. I have to admit, this is not a random act in that I put the bags together earlier in the week; I only had to deliver them. But all was not lost. Later in the day, when I picked Abby up from school, the parking lot was unusually crowded, so much so that I had to park at a meter on the street. I noticed the car in front of me had an expired meter, so random act of kindness ... I added 50 cents to the meter. It wasn't much, but it would've got them past 6 p.m. and maybe out of a ticket.

All in all, a successful day one.

Christmas Resolutions

2010-11-29T10:10:00.002-06:00

If you have ever read this blog around the holidays you know that I sometimes - okay usually - have trouble mustering the holiday spirit. Some years I have put it all out there in an effort to create a hopefully contagious holiday spirit. Tinsel, candles, trees big and small, wreaths on every window, doormats, reindeer antlers, Christmas quilts, carols, carols, carols. Other years I have done next to nothing (always a tree, always) and just waited for the Christmas spirit to greet me.

This year I have chosen a different tack. On December 1, the same day we'll start the countdown on our Advent calendar and anticipate the arrival of General Jolly Apple Snowball (our "elf on the shelf"), I am going to start 25 days of random acts of kindness. That probably doesn't need much explanation, but humor me. My plan is to do something random and kind each day. I don't want it to revolve around money - for the most part anyone can hand a homeless person $5 - although I'm sure some days will.

To be truthful this is a selfish exercise. My hope is that these little acts will help me remember what's important - gratitude, kindness, hospitality, humanity, generosity - and by the end of December maybe I can reflect back on time well spent instead of lamenting my choice of holiday decorations.

Prayers Nonetheless

2010-11-17T10:12:00.002-06:00

So Abby has developed the bad habit of saying "Oh my God." I know. In the scheme of things, not an awful thing. When a child says God in a prayer or a hymn, it's precious. When it's said because Ariel lost her crown or the Beast can't find his boots, it's precocious.

She wanted to take a banana muffin in the car this morning and of course, oh my God, she dropped it. I reminded her that we don't say "Oh my God" because God doesn't like it when we use His name that way. We should only say God in prayer or song.

"But I do say God in prayers?" she argued.

"Really? Do you talk to God in your prayers?"

"Yes. I say, 'God, give me a Barbie.'"

Bike On

2010-11-11T16:13:00.008-06:00

I can now safely say we made it through last week's Ride Your Bike To School week. And yes, when I say "we" I mean it because Bryon and I biked, walked, jogged, cajoled, encouraged, and begged our way through the week right along with Jake and Sam.

The idea was to have the kids ride to school, get a punch in a card and by week's end, if they had biked four or more days, they got a parade, a prize and root beer float at a nearby restaurant.

Day one was exhilarating. Day two, proud. Day three, "Are we still doing this?" Day four, I was praying that day five would be rained out.

It's not that I don't enjoy biking, or enjoy the kids biking. I actually found it quite fun - it created a palpable buzz at the school. Parents on bikes, kids on bikes, sponsors and volunteers on the corners cheering the kids as they rode by.

But I'm not an aggressive cyclist. I consider it whimsical and romantic. I like to ride a bike in a skirt for Pete's sake. I found this adolescent Tour de France mentally and physically exhausting. For one thing my kids pay no attention to cycling rules. For them it's best when they weave from left to right and coast from sidewalk to street to sidewalk. For them there is no such thing as right of way or heed or stop.

And then there's the backpacks. The backpacks Sam and Jake carry are heavier than anything I carried in college, let alone elementary school. There are folders and library books and permission slips and lunchboxes. One particular day I had Sam's backpack strapped on my back and Jake's messenger bag across my shoulder when it started slipping and swinging. I was desperately trying to maintain my balance (truth be told, I was a little panicked). The way I was steering I must've looked like I was avoiding land mines. "What do you have in here Jake? It's so heavy!"

Turns out he got to take home the class Halloween pumpkin. I was carrying a full-size pumpkin and it was swinging and swaying between my knees like a heavy teat. If it wasn't so funny, it would've been really funny.

Despite the forecast day five was not rained out. We made it to school, punched our fifth punch and Sam and Jake giddily picked out their bike prizes. But the best part - the part that really did make the effort worthwhile - was Friday afternoon when all the kids and parents rode en masse to claim their root beer floats. As we rounded the corner near the restaurant volunteers cheered everyone on.

After a little celebrating, eating and photo opps, it started raining.

An Open Letter To the Jerk Who Stole My Purse

2010-11-01T14:50:00.004-05:00

Hello. I hope you enjoyed your early morning shopping spree at Target, Office Max and Best Buy. I hope the items you purchased with my credit card bring joy and pride to you and your family. Had you spent $100 at Kroger, I might feel differently.

I also hope you are enjoying the 300 photos of my family that were on my iPhone. Maybe you've been watching the Bugs Bunny cartoons, funny videos or Wizard of Oz clips I downloaded for Abby.

While you're rummaging around my purse, can you please RSVP to the birthday party invitations that were in there? Or maybe you are too busy reading the copy of The Help I took to Jake's choir practice yesterday.

I'm sure you won't think twice when you throw away the pumpkin drawing Jake made in church yesterday or my insurance card, since it is no use to you. Or my work badge, which of course, I can reorder with a valid driver's license. Oh wait, you have that too.

Thank you you for putting me in such a sour mood. Thank you for my renewed mistrust. I will be sure to look suspiciously at everyone I don't know.

Lastly, I hope you rest well tonight. With your new big screen TV or video games or office supplies. Rest well, knowing that if by some miracle I ever find out who you are, I'm going to punch you in the face.

This Is Six

2010-10-04T09:47:00.004-05:00

So Jake turned 6 on October 1. I think he was happy with his birthday activities. (He should've been - it technically lasted 4 days.)

Thursday he brought cupcakes to share with his class. Friday was a no-school day so he got a late breakfast of his choice - taquitos and cinnamon rolls - and then he spent most of the afternoon on his first official playdate. In the evening we ate out at his favorite restaurant and saw the Legend of the Guardians. Saturday morning was his birthday party, and even though I was a little unsure about the location, the time, the invitees, the cake, etc... I think Jake enjoyed it. And that's all that matters. Saturday night he spent the night with his favorite neighbors and got more presents. Sunday, a friend's birthday party and a beautiful day to try out his new scooter.

After all that he fell asleep on the couch yesterday at 5. Thankfully he slept all night. Unfortunately he woke up vomiting ... and is staying home from school today.

Just for the record, the popular gifts this year were books, Legos, a scooter and anything Star Wars or Pokemon.

It's a pillow. It's a pet. It's a pillow pet. And it was a big hit.

The cake was decorated with Lugia (ugh, that sounds gross), a character from Pokemon. As I was leaving the store with it, the clerk yelled out, "The icing is edible!" Uh, yeah? I hope so.

And the six year old.

Happy Birthday Jake. You play bigger than your size. And one of these days it will make you remarkable.

Touche

2010-09-21T13:34:00.002-05:00

So last night I broke one of my own personal rules of parenthood - I conspired with one kid to get information about another. It's not really as sinister as it sounds. It's basically this ... I don't know if we are going to keep Jake in drum lessons, but Sam wants to keep playing guitar. So I asked Sam, "What do you think Jake would do if you kept going to guitar, but he didn't have drums anymore? Do you think he would care? Would he be jealous or mad?"

And to this Sam responded. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"I don't know Sam. Why did the chicken cross the road?" I asked.

"I don't know either. Sometimes you just have to ask the chicken."

Well played, Sam. And point taken.

Shalom Mateys

2010-09-18T07:56:00.004-05:00

At the breakfast table this morning the boys were having a heated debate about who first sailed the seven seas. I don't even know if an explorer ever sailed all seven seas; everything I know about ocean exploration comes from the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.

But Sam swore he knew, and that the explorer's name started with a J.

"Could it be Magellan?" I asked him.

"Christopher Columbus!" Jake yelled.

"No, it was Jesus. Jesus was the first to sail the seven seas."

Somewhere between Sunday school, Vacation Bible School and third grade Sam has created a story about Jesus and his merry band of disciples, sailing the seven seas and walking on water.

Thus Spoke Paul Reubens

2010-09-18T07:53:00.001-05:00

I came around the living room corner this morning and Jake was sprawled out on the couch, watching cartoons. His pants were at his knees.

"Jacob! That's not appropriate. Please pull up your pants."

"But I'm pretending I'm at a movie theater. At a movie theater I can do whatever I want."

"Yeah? Tell that to Pee Wee Herman."

Treat

2010-09-14T19:41:00.004-05:00

So I woke up in a good mood this morning, refreshed, ready for the day. Bryon is out of town so it was up to me to get everybody up and ready and out of the house by 7:30. And we managed to do it smoothly, dare I say happily. So much so that as I was driving to work I thought how could I not be thankful on a day like this. A day when my kids are healthy and happy, when I'm fortunate to be employed, when we all have breakfast in our bellies.

But over the course of the day my mood soured. Not sure why. Road rage, another 95-degree day, a seasonal migraine, kindergarten homework, two more loads of laundry. So after the boys went off to play soccer with our neighbor I fixed Abby a "dinner" of apples, grapes, cheese and crackers, and when she finished we cracked open a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Since I'm trying to set a good example, I skipped the apples, grapes, cheese and crackers, and went straight to the ice cream, Chocolate Fudge Brownie. I'm somewhat of a purist when it comes to ice cream, in that I would rather have a spoonful of something full fat, full sugar than a gallon of anything "lite."

"This ice cream makes me smile" Abby said.

Me too.

Hey Kid Rock and Roll

2010-09-13T09:33:00.003-05:00

Sam and Jake had their first School of Rock performance on Saturday. I think it takes a lot of courage to get up on stage like they did. Thank you to our friends Fox and Tim and Julie for coming and to Tim and Julie for the photos. We managed to leave every recording device at home or in the car.

"Slowhand" Romine

"Minnesota" Romine

Look out Tommy Lee

The Game Face

Occupied

2010-09-10T09:56:00.002-05:00

Every Thursday when the boys have their music lesson, I drive through Burger Street and get a 44-ounce sweet tea. I consider myself somewhat of a sweet tea connoisseur, and I find for drive-through sweet tea, Burger Street is about the best. The added bonus, it's $1. For a trough of ice tea. A cup so big it defies my car's cup holders.

Forty-five minutes later, when I pick up the boys, I have usually finished the 44 ounces, although I realize it is unnatural to consume that much liquid in so short a time. This usually means that the minute we get home - the second - I have to use the bathroom. That can be difficult in our house, however, because the kids need help in, someone usually forgets something in the car, the gate has to be shut, the pets have to be petted. This was the case last night.

Although I ran straight for the bathroom, Abby caught up with me, anxious to tell me about her day. Tag the Dog followed me, well, because he follows me EVERYWHERE. Felix the Cat loped in, winding around my legs to signal he was hungry. Sam stomped in, dealing with a potential Nintendo DS crisis (he'd left it at his lesson). Bryon walked to the end of the hallway to see what Sam was yelling about. And there I was, using the bathroom with an audience.

I was just about to lose it, I mean really lose it when Abby interrupted her soliloquy to say, "Momma, your butt is terrific!"

That almost makes up for the lack of privacy.

Attila the Hunter

2010-09-01T10:53:00.002-05:00

When we adopted Phineas earlier this year the agency had named him Attila. Ha, we thought. What a ferocious name for a schmitten so round and fluffy.

But a few months under the tutelage of our other adult male cats and Phineas is earning the name Attila - not with us, but with the community of woodland creatures who apparently live near us. In the past few days he has captured four rats, countless geckos, junebugs, locusts, moths and birds. In most cases he brings them in the house, usually preceded by a very proud, wailing mew.

The bloodbath has gotten so bad that last week I actually had to bathe the cat because his underbelly, which is covered with a long, thick coat, was sticky with blood and ... organs. Or bits of organs. He looked like a sloppy vampire.

This morning he was lolling awkwardly in the corner of the living room underneath a chair, a position that indicated he had something trapped. Sure enough, either a mouse king or a baby rat was in the corner. And just like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, Phineas was callously toying with it. He would let it run a couple of inches before stepping on its tail. Then he would release the tail only to stop the mouse with his paw. With my interference the poor thing escaped into a basket of stuffed animals, which I then carried out to the porch.

Thank goodness I'm not afraid of rodents. In the past week I have scooped up dead ones, pulled live ones out of the house by their tail and even had an anxious one run across my feet while I was shooshing it out the door with a broom. My mother would be proud ... and repulsed.

Good thing he doesn't bring in spiders.

Write the Caption

2010-08-30T16:05:00.005-05:00

I took this picture the second Jake got into the car after school today. This was the look he gave me in response to a question. See if you can guess my question and his answer:

1. Me: How was your first full day?
Jake: I had to sit in time out, I wasn't listening and I didn't get a sticker.

2. Me: So how was your first full day?
Jake: The best. Ever.

3. Me: Hi Jakey. I missed you today. Did you miss me on your first full day of kindergarten?
Jake: Are you kidding?

If you guessed #2, you are right! This is Jake after the best day of his life. I can only imagine his reaction when he makes a high school sports team or gets a part in a school play or goes to college or gets married.

By Definition

2010-08-27T12:56:00.002-05:00

At 9:30 last night, after a long day and a longer week, Jake asked me to get him a new Pokemon game for his DS. Right then.

After I said no, with a mix of disbelief, anger and exhaustion, I told him we could possibly get a Pokemon game on Friday.

"First thing, OK? Before school."

"Jake, the store won't be open before school."

"Blast it! Why do they start school so early and why do they make all the kids go?"

Barbie Girl

2010-08-24T15:47:00.007-05:00

So Abby got her first Barbie. It wasn't planned; she's really into unicorns these days (?) so after a particularly good and patient weekend I told her I would get her a unicorn. But once she rounded the Barbie aisle at the store, she was flabbergasted.

She was very deliberate, comparing the features of this Barbie to that Barbie. No, she didn't like the ballerina Barbie. Yes, she liked the Happy Birthday Barbie whose shoes and necklace lit up. (Ugh.) She loved Tiana from The Princess and the Frog ... until she saw Rapunzel, the Barbie from the upcoming movie Tangled. I don't know about every other little girl, but most of Barbie's appeal for me was her hair and Rapunzel has plenty of it. She even comes with extensions, for days when her floor-length hair is not enough.

Since it was her first Barbie, Abby didn't have any friends for Rapunzel (or Pretzel, as we call hair because Abby can't consistently say Rapunzel) so she made do with some stuffed animals, a Fisher Price horse and a bank/bust of Superman that belongs to the boys. After a day of watching Pretzel and Superman try to dance and flirt, I gave in and bought Beast (from Beauty and the Beast), the only prince I could find.

Abby and Pretzel immediately took to him.

"You want to come to my house for cookies. And then you can spend the night," Pretzel asked Beast, the minute she got him out of his box.

Come to think of it, I think that's how Bryon wooed me.

The Verdict

2010-08-23T15:39:00.006-05:00

Jake suffers from what I call "workplace" syndrome. As an adult, you may have a really bad day at work, but most of us, MOST of us, grin and bear it or groan and bear it, and as the ubiquitous saying goes, we keep calm and carry on.

However, the minute we pull into the garage and drop our laptop bag on the kitchen counter we let our partner have it - you left your socks on the floor, you didn't take the garbage out, dinner's not ready, dinner's been ready, you forgot the dry cleaning. In other words, a day's worth of pent-up frustration, embarrassment, tedium and restraint are unloaded on the people who love you the most and deserve it the least.

Jake suffers from the juvenile form of workplace syndrome. And, bless my little pointed head, I had really forgotten this over the summer. But it took one day of school to remind me. Because seconds after I picked him up from his first day of kindergarten, he let me have it.

"You didn't come inside to get me!" (Actually, I did.)

"I'm starving and you wouldn't let me have lunch!" (It was noon and we were headed home for lunch.)

"I don't have ANY homework in my backpack!" (This is a problem? And it's my fault?)

And then I had the gall to take him to McDonald's and go through the drive-thru. Needless to say I haven't heard much about Jake's day. I'll treat him like a disgruntled spouse - I'll let him have his space and hopefully by bedtime he'll be ready to talk.

Then he'll get up tomorrow, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed ... and we'll do it all over again.

Away We Go

2010-08-23T10:34:00.004-05:00

So ... back to school. Harried, sad, bittersweet, welcome, somewhat anti-climactic.

On one hand, we need the schedule, and I'm excited for what the school year will bring.

On the other hand, come back. Let's swim and sleep in and eat donuts and ice cream.

Gimme an A!

2010-08-17T17:31:00.004-05:00

Abby takes a weekly dance class at her day care. But over the summer, boring old ballet was replaced by Hip Hop and Cheer Rock, which culminated in a pep rally this week - a pep rally that Abby referred to as the "pepperoni." (They do sound alike, especially if you mumble like I do or talk like a three-year-old.)

Anyway ... the pep rally. Each cheerleader had a spirit shirt and shorts, cheer socks, pom pons and matching hair bows. Thanks to Abby's new haircut a couple of weeks back, there is no place on her head with enough hair to hold a hair bow, but she donned the rest of the uniform, fluffed her pom pons and headed to the rally.

About one minute in she announced to the crowd she needed to pee. After returning several minutes later, she then needed to poop, so we missed most of the rally. She did "participate" in a couple of cheers and one "dance" to the Justin Bieber classic, Baby.

Snapped

2010-08-16T19:55:00.002-05:00

For the past week or so Abby and I have been playing Puppy, a game in which she leads me around her room on my hands and knees (hard wood floors, I might add), forcing me to sleep in baskets, play fetch and get shots from the doctor.

Although I adore Abby and this game doesn't require much participation from me, I am sick to death of the game Puppy. That is probably why I started teasing her during tonight's game. Tickling, poking, getting out of my basket. Basically being a bad dog. And like most bullies I found her frustration entertaining.

Especially when she thrust her fists at her sides, stomped her foot and through clenched teeth told me, "Mom! You are tearing me apart!"

Puppy Love

2010-08-10T07:40:00.003-05:00

When we left school last night Abby turned to her bestest friend Caleb and said, "Good night, handsome boy."

Phobi-AAAHHHH

2010-08-05T09:46:00.006-05:00

So have I ever told the story about THE spider? The one that marked the exact moment I became an arachnophobe?

In short, I was about 10 years old, vacationing with my parents in Stone Mountain, Georgia. After using one of the public bathrooms I turned to flush the toilet and on the wall behind me, inches from my bare backside, was a spider the size of a dinner plate. (It gives me the willies to even write that.) Ever since that moment I have been afraid of spiders. Not irrationally afraid, just thoroughly creeped out. I think they're sneaky. And knuckly and hairy, with those pokey pincers. Eeek.

Other than that fateful day, I can't say I've had other unfortunate run ins with spiders. Once in college I lived in an apartment with three friends and an unwelcome number of brown recluse spiders. They're sneaky and knuckly AND poisonous. But I don't like to harm or kill them either; I believe in karma, and I don't want to spend my afterlife taunted by oversized, vengeful spiders.

Fast forward to present day. One day this week when I got the mail, a quarter-sized spider repelled out of the mailbox. Thank God I didn't touch it, but its unexpected presence made me jump and squeal.

Too bad I didn't remember the little bugger when I got the mail the next day, in front of Bryon and the kids. As I walked back in the house and handed the pile of mail to Bryon, I felt something wispy and webby on the back of my neck, and I immediately knew it was that damn spider. How it got from my hand to neck so fast I don't know. See? ... Sneaky.

Now the kids have seen me upset - out of frustration or impatience, for example. But I'm not sure they have ever seen the kind of double-time, hot foot, ants-in-my-pants dance I did until I was sure that spider was gone. And even then the writhing and twisting and swatting didn't stop for a couple of minutes. Then I needed a shower.

But Bryon the big weenie didn't want to touch it either so it's still in the house. No doubt watching me and laughing and plotting the right time to creep across my arm or my bare foot or surprise me in a cabinet.

I think I need another shower.

Nuptials

2010-08-01T10:23:00.005-05:00

We had our own celebrity wedding this weekend. Abby married Clancy the bear.

The bride wore Fisher Price. Several luminaries were present, including Curious George, Dora the Explorer, Elmo, Winnie the Pooh and Scooby-Doo.

The merriment was short lived, however, when the wedding was crashed by Big Brother Jake and Tag the Dog.

Forever the Optimist

2010-07-27T13:14:00.002-05:00

Despite a strategically placed headband, Abby's hair looked quite patchy when she went to school yesterday. I soon gave up on the headband because it didn't hide anything (it drew attention to it really) and because she chose to wear it like an aerobics teacher in an '80s workout video.

Nearly everyone we passed on our way into school commented on her hair. From far away, you'd hear, "Abby, did you get a haircut?" and then as you got closer, the inevitable, "Oooh, you DID get a haircut!"

By the time I got her settled in her classroom, no fewer than 6 teachers had seen her hair, and she was delighted with the attention.

"Everyone LOVES my haircut, Momma!"

I hope that doesn't mean she'll try it again.

Cute While It Lasted

2010-07-25T10:35:00.005-05:00

So remember that boy cut I wanted to get Abby a few weeks back? Apparently she wanted a boy cut, too, because this morning she got out the scissors and cut it herself.

Although it can be covered up with a headband ...

... I'm sure she will tire of the headband and she cut A LOT off. It will be awhile before this grows out. I suppose there's no use in getting upset about it (I am a little sad), but I do check it every 5 minutes hoping it's grown at least a little bit.

Armed

2010-07-23T21:02:00.004-05:00

In my experience it is true that even if you don't give a boy a toy weapon, he will make one out of something, anything. Cardboard tubes, tree branches, a rubber band and pencil, for example.

Today Sam and I were walking across the UTD campus after his last day of chess camp when he stopped beneath a large tree filled with immature seed pods.

"Wow! These are cool!" he said, referring to the spiky seed pods overhead. And I thought, "How sensitive. How perceptive and appreciative."

Until he said, "I can tear these off and use them as a mace!"

Junk In the Trunk

2010-07-17T10:43:00.001-05:00

I was getting Abby dressed this morning when she turned and flashed me her bare bottom. "Look at my big back porch!" she said proudly.

Waste Not

2010-07-17T10:36:00.002-05:00

So Sam did go on his field trip Thursday, the one to the waste management/recycling center/landfill. He said it was better than he thought it would be, they didn't see anything gross and did I know that you could make paper out of elephant poop? No. I did not.

Jake, on the other hand, didn't enjoy his day as much. His group was too young for the landfill visit. They, instead, went to the Dallas Arboretum. Most people would prefer a visit to the lovely, fragrant arboretum over a visit to a landfill, but Jake hated it. "All we did was walk around and look at FLOWERS!" he groaned. And I'm sure he did hate it. I can picture him, slugging along, listening to a lecture about seasonal flowers, grumping and eye rolling and sighing.

Maybe I'll let him take out the garbage and recycling today. That'll lift his spirits.

Surprise

2010-07-16T07:19:00.001-05:00

Our neighbor took Ferb to the vet yesterday to get him neutered and guess what, Ferbie was a girl. That might explain all the canoodling with Phineas.