Tough Choices; No Regrets

At the end of April (when I was sincerely too busy to blog), the boys skated their hearts out before a panel of coaches in tryouts for the Bridgewater Bears, a travel hockey club. Even at the Mites level not every skater makes the cut, so the boys were very excited when they were both offered spots on the roster!

As if that wasn't enough excitement in that week, 4:00am Friday found us piled into the car, bound for Lake Placid where my hockey team was entered in a tournament for the Lake Placid Cup. Three days in Lake Placid with a pile of friends and their kids, lots of Olympic sights to see, shopping, and hockey games - as family weekends go, there's not much more we could hope for.

The plan was for my team to skate in rounds on Friday and Saturday, with only playoff games scheduled on Sunday. Since my team is extremely recreational, we didn't go in expecting to make the playoffs so, when the boys were given the chance to skate "Mites on Ice" at the Rangers vs. Sabres NHL playoff game in Madison Square Garden that Sunday, Chris and I said yes to it right away! We'd be up at 4am Friday to drive five hours, why not do the same on Sunday? The kids were to watch warm-ups from the tunnel in MSG, first period from an NHL dressing room, skate between 1st and 2nd periods, and then get audience seats for the rest of the game. They might even have a chance to meet some of the players. Each skater could have one parent attend - and, trust me, ALL of us were excited!

And then - huge surprise - my team actually won our first game in the tournament! We played well in the following games, too, and by Saturday afternoon it was pretty clear we'd be in the playoffs on Sunday.

Everyone on my team was supporting my choice to go back to NYC to see my kids skate on NHL ice (and to see the Sabres, of course), but I was feeling awful about deserting my team - I had, after all, committed to skate the tournament with them long before the Mites on Ice NHL opportunity came up.

So, we were wandering the main street of Lake Placid, shopping, having ice cream, and discussing the world when the call came: the ice at MSG was in horrible condition and the Rangers had cancelled all non-NHL activity...including our Mites on Ice. I'm not sure how much damage twelve 40-50lb kids can do but apparently the Rangers were worried. The game tickets were still on offer but the kids wouldn't get to do any of the fun stuff before and there was no chance of meeting players. I can't describe the disappointment!

Poor Chris got saddled with calling each family (he's the team manager) to let them know that skating at the game was off and our family mood was bleak, especially mine. Without the kids actually skating, I had to re-make my choice about what to do on Sunday. An NHL playoff game is a big deal - especially if you have free tickets - and an even bigger deal when the contest is between the Sabres (our family team) and the Rangers (Ross' favorite team). But I'd made a commitment to my team to play for them...and our tournament was also on Big Deal Ice - the 1980 rink in Lake Placid is the site of the single most famous victory in hockey history, where a team of USA college kids beat the Russian professional team who'd long held Olympic gold.

Eventually, I realized my place was there, in Lake Placid, with my own team. I started to tell Chris but he already knew what I'd say. We briefly discussed his driving back with the kids to see the NHL game (I could get a ride home with a teammate), but he really wanted to stay to see me play. It was also a pretty easy call for Lars but it was AWFUL for Ross. His heart had been set on going to a live Rangers game - a chance he knows will not come often. Even without being able to skate, he really wanted to go to the game. After we made the decision (3-1, poor Ross!) to stay in Lake Placid, he was heartbroken. He sobbed on and off for hours - fresh waves of sadness seemed to grip him every time he thought about it...it broke my heart that I couldn't make him feel better.

Sunday morning dawned early anyhow - we got up before the sun to eat breakfast and get to the rink by 7am to cheer our friends playing in a different division. After their game, we toured the Olympic Ski Jump Complex before returning to the rink for my final game.

Chris and the kids cheered their hearts out for my team. We scored first (I got the assist!) and there was much celebration (we were up against a difficult team with a very good goalie) but weren't able to win the game. Still, we won silver medals for second place!

I think we all had more fun staying in Lake Placid than we would have had at the NHL game. I know my team appreciated having fans much more than any NHL player possibly could! Ross is still a little sad that he didn't get to see the Rangers play live (especially since the game went into two overtimes and the Rangers finally won!) and, in the end, none of us (including Ross) have any regrets.

Full picture set here & videos here

Words Every Wife Dreads

"Honey? We need a big bucket!"

It's worse when these words are followed by a sluicing noise and then a thud, indicating that the husband who'd just yelled had also just verified that, yes, the back deck is still very slick when wet.

So, what happened? The plastic cover over the vent fan in our attic ceiling blew off the roof, allowing torrents of rain to pour directly into the attic. The rain is now being funnelled into a big laundry bucket - Chris will go up to replace the roof cover when the roof isn't wet.

For the record, our basement? Very dry. (Do dance here!)

Poem In Your Pocket Day

Ross wrote his own poem for "Poem In Your Pocket Day" at school last week. Here it is, verbatim:

Hockey

Stiks slaping at pucks
and banging aganst pads.
Goiles making great saves.
fans cheering flag waving
and much more I just
wish they score

Series 2, Game 3

Tune in to NBC on Sunday, April 29th, 2:00pm EST for Series 2, Game 3: NY Rangers vs. Buffalo Sabres at Madison Square Garden, when the Bridgewater Wolverines will be the Mites on Ice between the 1st & 2nd periods!

If the Mites on Ice is covered at all, look for Ross in goal, White #35 and Lars skating (probably defense), White #00. If NBC isn't savvy enough to pick up the Mites game, you'll be able to catch some clips on YouTube next week.

With that, we're off to Lake Placid where I'm playing in a CHE Women's Hockey Tournament this weekend. I get to play on the 1980 Olympic rink at Herb Brooks Arena!

Who needs lotto when you get to skate at MSG and the 1980 rink in the same week?

#1 Geek

People have been blogging about silly Google searches that lead random folks to find their sites lately so I've been paying closer attention to the searches that lead others to my page. An awful lot of people come in from Googling famous goalie. Curious, I Googled it myself...and found that I come up right at the top of the list. #1! My blog! In the geekiest way, I am very proud.

Whale Pants

I wore my favorite spring/summer pants today for the first time this season and it's inspired the story of how they came to be mine. Picture, if you will, that someone is doing the Wayne's World flashback effect fingers.....

My fashion sense developed (or didn't, if you ask my mom) when I was a teen in the '80's. Our neighborhood trended toward preppy, which means that my mom could have hated my clothes a whole lot more than she actually did (we didn't have MTV so she might not have been entirely aware of how lucky she was).

I think Mom was least offended (although still probably baffled) by my shoe collection. What on earth would inspire a person to wear Converse with map of the world prints or dusty rose suede pan boots? If not for the cost, she might have liked the white Nikes with the gel-rainbow swooshes and I'm pretty sure my Camp Mocs were pure torture for her. THAT much?!? For SHOES? They weren't even good tie-oxfords! They had no support! I was clearly insane. Somehow or other, I managed to get a pair despite the financial and physical downfall they would obviously cause. I wore that first pair (pictured here in 1987) regularly until they fell apart in 2004. By good planning, LLBean's delivered the successor pair a few weeks before the bitter end and I was able to wear them for the small throwing-out ceremony I forced Chris and the kids to endure.

Shoes aside, I was otherwise never as preppy as I would have liked. Our town featured a few upscale boutiques that I would browse in on my way to or from the library or the Y to get ideas. For years after I moved out of town, I reminisced about window shopping in those boutiques and looked forward to a day when I'd be able to go in with some buying power...but, alas, now there are different shops in the storefronts so those special items I always thought I'd go back for will remain in my memories.

...or will they? Enter 2004, a year when many things I'd had forever simply decided it was time to quit - the Camp Mocs were only the start of it! You'd think the opportunity to shop with good reason would be thrilling, unless you realized that we had two kids and had just moved houses. Either situation should scream, "NO POCKET MONEY!" but, especially taken together, they don't bode well for being happy about having shopped when the AmEx bill arrives. Still, a girl must have something to wear to work.

Here's where my mom will be proud: over the years, I've become a shopper she might be proud of. I don't (usually) buy the first thing that comes to hand. I research my purchases. I go try on sizes and then hunt around for better pricing online. I've grown quite fond of eBay for bargains you can surf for while wearing comfy pj's (and Hut Boots which are also from LLBean but mom used to have a pair herself, they're deliciously warm, so she can't point out how much I spent on slippers).

Then, one fateful day, Mom and I were actually wandering in the shopping mall near my house. This never happens. Mom doesn't care much for malls. She also lives 2,366 miles away so we don't get to visit very often. Also? As much as I love the mall, I try not to go in too often. AmEx would prefer that I showed less restraint but I'm learning not to buckle to such pressure. Anyway, on this day? We pass the window of Brooks Brothers and THERE THEY ARE! The pants I've wanted since I saw them in Pappagallo in 1987! With embroidered sailboats and whales! And I was with my mother, who might actually implode if I went in to Brooks Brothers, let alone bought something from there.

Long story short? Mom did not implode when I went in (she didn't even make any comments out loud). They had the pants in my size (shocking) and they were on sale (can you say PROVIDENCE?)! They are worth every penny I paid, every time I wear them and I've since bought two pairs of shoes to go with them - don't tell my mom.

Mama, Can I Help?

Today's another beautiful day! We got errands done early and then took the kids to the toy store - a rare treat. Ross had gift cards from his birthday and Lars is headed for a party, so needed to select a present. When we got home, I thought I'd sit on the porch and renew the polish on my toes while the kids played outside...which is sort of what happened. As soon as I sat down, a bright head appeared next to me asking, "Mama, can I help?"

Allowing an elongated pause, I considered my options and decided that saying yes was probably the fastest path to his getting interested in something else. I dolloped polish remover on two cotton balls and showed Lars how to use one to take the color off my toes. He worked on one foot while I worked on the other. After, he carefully examined the color choices and decided which one he'd use. Ok, he decided on four different colors (he was planning a pattern) but I narrowed him down to only one. It was a painful elimination at the last but I've promised there will be other chances to use the color that did not win this time. At several points, Ross called out for Lars to come play but Lars remained interested in my toes, so I showed him how to apply the color. He stuck with the task for all ten toes (go figure).


Not bad, you say? Well...the color he chose is a Del Sol polish, which changes color in sunlight:


Thank goodness the indoor shade is clear!

The Face of the Blogosphere

I'm a 2k Blogger! Can you find me?

Spring May Have Just Sprung

According to the yard, spring has arrived! Daffodils - the only flower our deer don't eat - are up all over the woods and in the straight garden under the kitchen window. We get three color varieties, yellow, white, and white with orange inner parts.

All three colors come in regular size and a dwarf size. Colors mix in the same clump, but size is strictly segregated. This year we have several yellow dwarf clumps in the middle of the lawn, where we haven't seen them before. They're too far away from all the other clumps for me to believe they're the product of bulb spreading...I wonder who's been working on the plantings? No matter, really, any flower the deer won't eat is a treasure around here.

Chris swept off the front porch and raked some of the yard. The kids have a friend over for the afternoon and have been alternately playing hockey and in the woods. I made rice krispy treats, next weeks' menu and a shopping list. There's not much on the list since but I haven't decided if I'll try to shop this afternoon or wait until the evening. I have to go before tomorrow - we're nearly out of milk.

After hockey this morning and lunch, the kids dashed out to the yard in shirtsleeves and have only been in for snack since. Lars immediately scaled the cottage roof, something he's been doing for years. This is the first year I have not been secretly terrified that he'd fall off, and I'm not yet worried that he'll collapse it. This peaceful feeling is strange and I hope it's the start of feeling like a mother of "kids" instead of "small kids" (rather than a calm-before-the-storm sort of warning omen). Between the cottage and climbing the trees, we'll be lucky to get through the summer without any broken bones. We do issue warnings and plead for caution but are not silly enough to think our requests mean the kids will not climb around. We keep the Bactine and band-aids handy and make sure our health insurance is up-to-date. If today is any indication, it's going to be a great spring (finally!).

Blogging from Bryant Park

Today:

• 6am train. Ugh.
  
• Starbucks not open on time; no latte or breakfast. UGH!
  
• Suddenly raining! Did not wear raincoat, but did have umbrella (nobody is more shocked about the umbrella than I was). Argh.
  
• Useful but interminable lecture on inverters (might have been better if I'd had coffee).
• Good news that a job I've been working on came through!
• Surprise meeting for my least favorite job.
• Site visit revealing contractor lost 2/3 of his control stations. Job turns on Tuesday.
• Surprise meeting with one of my favorite engineers.
• Uncomfortable phone call, making me wonder if I've somehow gotten mixed up with the mob.
• Shockingly sunny and mild, open tables in Bryant Park, twenty or so minutes before I must head to next appointment...so I'm enjoying the slanty afternoon sun hitting the NY Public Library and blogging outside. Wheee!
  

Hope you all had some good surprises in your day, too!

The Writing on the Wall

I tend to wander around while I'm on the phone. It's genetic - my mom can't get a number dialed before she's sprinting around and my kids learned to walk pretty much so they could make calls. Playroom opens off my den, so I frequently trail around in there while on calls. On a wander this afternoon, I found this:

At first glance, the purple scrawls might seem like useless graffiti...but look closely - it's an argument:

LARS Yes
ROSS NO

Ross Ye
lars NO

A written dialogue between the kids! How clever! IN PURPLE MARKER ON MY WALL, which completely voids any hope of my praising their cleverness. Questioning reveals that neither boy had anything at all to do with the writing on the wall. Nothing! Not one thing! Punishments were still handed out, because we're just mean that way. And no, in case you were also wondering, they may not help repaint the wall.

Victory

My sister passed her nursing finals!

Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle

Ross has been wiggling loose top tooth #2 vigorously for two weeks now. Yesterday, I caught him attempting to dislodge it with a spoon and then, shortly after, with a lego. He wiggled enthusiastically most of today but the darned tooth stayed in. After dinner and a few rounds of Uno, I tucked the kids in to bed and was pleased that they snuggled in and stayed quiet, even though I'm sure they heard Bibliofilly arrive to watch the hockey game. About 20 minutes after she arrived, Ross appeared, triumphantly wielding the tooth!

I hope he'll get another loose tooth soon because anything that can keep him quiet and in one spot for twenty minutes is something to cultivate.

Rain Day

For those of you not plastered to the Weather Channel, there's a lot of rain coming down over here. Central Park registered 7-1/2" of rain yesterday and there's more coming down still. NJ has declared a state of emergency in our county, schools are closed, our neighbors are starting to frame an ark, our front path is under 6" of water, our yards - which all run downhill - look like lakes...but our basement is DRY!! I will gleefully prepare meals in my still-horrible kitchen, secure in the knowledge that, while my countertops might not be attached, my house will not fall over.

Ross and Lars each have a friend over and Chris has been supervising assorted activities all morning. Snippets of the conversation overheard while they were building with Legos:

"No, that's a toilet plunger!"
"...because sharing is for BABIES!"
"A toilet plunger. A thing you get the water on the floor with?"
"...this guy has no head"
"He still could plunger something"

When they all get too rambunctious to sit around the table any longer, Chris herds them downstairs so they can romp around in the (DRY!) basement. We're doing mac'n'cheese with fruit for lunch and will show a movie after. I'm about done with the work I'd planned to do today (I did a slew of it last night, in anticipation of being in the city all day) and wondering if I'd get in a little or a lot of trouble if I continue hiding in the den and fire up Civ IV or NWN2...

Us v. Them

Saturday afternoon found Chris and I head-to-head with our kids in the first Mites vs. Parents hockey game. The Mites team had several distinct advantages, starting with the fact that all players on their team know how to ice skate. The parents were less talented (our intrepid goalie ingeniously used the goal to keep himself standing), less graceful (think orthopedic ward), and fewer in number; we won't even talk about energy level. Still, we rallied enthusiastically and showed the Mites that they are unquestionably better at hockey than we are. The parents did manage to score a few (boy, did I take some flack on my own bench for scoring on Ross!) and the Mites were even good enough to let us win by one in the end...so the parents will always have this game to remember in future years, when our kids are beating the snot out of us even while skating one-footed and holding their sticks blade-side-up.

National Spa Week

April 16th - 20th is National Spa Week and spas across the country are celebrating by offering $50 treatments. Check the website for locations near you!

Query

Would you take this mascot job:

...and, if you would, would you list it on your resume?

The Grandest Lady...

Making Irving proud:

Nothing says Easter like a good bonnet!

Mites on Ice

A thrill for all, the kids' hockey team got to be the "Mites On Ice" for the Trenton Titans last night! Mites On Ice is a long-standing hockey tradition where a mites team (the youngest players) will skate a game in-between periods of a pro game.

Here's a video of the start of their game, with the announcer introducing the team:

My Radish Hurts

Lars sat on a hockey stick during his last game, earning himself a relatively large but not at all traumatic contusion on the back part of his upper thigh. I'm not sure how the stick made such an impact through his Kevlar pants, but I'll take a purple mark over a broken tooth any day.

Over dinner that night, Lars announced that his radish hurt. Chris and I locked gazes over the table, each glad to be chewing something and therefore unable to attempt an immediate answer. By sheer luck, neither of us choked. Chris finished chewing first and managed to croak out, "Your radish?" without cracking a grin (his eyebrows were on the ceiling, however, I think in an attempt to tighten his face so that a smile wouldn't be able to sneak out). I chose the safer path and took another bite of my dinner.

"Yes, Daddy. My," pause. "Well, you know, this...," pause. "HERE! What I got from sitting on the hockey stick!"

"Oh! Your bruise! Yes, that's bound to hurt a bit but you'll be ok," finished Chris before jamming another bite into his own mouth and flashing me a distinct 'your-turn-next' look.

I'm Always Good There

When Chris does per-diem work, I keep Lars for the few hours until the afternoon Kindergarten bus comes. Usually, we hang out at home and play Memory or he helps me do take-offs for work (he’s very good at matching and counting and loves to use different highlighter colors). Once a month, I bring him with me to the blood lab. He leads the way from the parking lot, knows which floor to select in the elevator, sits patiently with me in the waiting room and then stands quietly near me while the tech draws my blood. He usually watches and will sometimes talk to the tech about why there are different colored tubes or if I can have the Incredibles band-aid. He’s never seemed disturbed or frightened by the experience.

This is Spring Break week, so I had both of them today, while Chris worked. In keeping with the Nothing Is Easy theme of the last couple weeks, it was also lab day. On the way over, I asked Lars to fill Ross in on the lab routine. I started him off with the parking and elevator and Lars leading me to the lab. Lars thought a minute and then added, very matter-of-factly, “Then we sign in and wait quietly until they call us and then we go into the room and they do BAD THINGS to Mama. They take her blood out and they KEEP it!” There was an uncomfortable pause and then, “But after that we go home to Starbucks if I’m good and I’m ALWAYS good there.” On reflection, he IS always good there! I never thought much of it before, but now I wonder if it’s because he’s worried about the bad things or because he likes going to Sbux?

What Husband Wouldn't?

I usually skip sleep in order to post but last week I had to skip sleep for work (grrrr) and it was work out of the house, so there just wasn’t time. Several days found me home near midnight, only to spring up early the next morning for another go. Ok, maybe “spring” is a bit of an overstatement but I was getting myself on the trains, so does my style really matter? I was terribly glad when Friday rolled around! I didn’t have to be in the city but I still got up early, to get Ross ready for Crazy Hair Day at school:

While he’d agreed to the spikes in concept, I’m not really sure he understood what he’d get until I was done. The look of pure terror on his face pretty much sums up how he felt about the ‘do until he got to the bus stop and discovered the other kids thought it looked cool. After the bus, I worked a couple of hours and then made Spätzle (German noodles) for his class’ International Lunch, which Chris ran up to the school while I went back to work.

In the midst of all this fun, we endured a minor electrical fire in the circuit breaker box, the fault of poor insulation and a badly tightened wire on the neutral bus. After determining the damage limited to the box and not requiring help from the fire department, we simply pulled the breaker from use and ran an extension cord into the kitchen to power coffee and toaster. Thankfully, we have a gas stove, so matches are all we need for stovetop use.

Yesterday was full of hockey and a birthday party. Today started again with hockey, followed this time by a trip to Home Depot for new breakers. On the advice of a knowledgeable friend, I got an AFCI breaker to replace the damaged one. An Arc Fault Circuit Interrupter (AFCI) will trip if arcing is detected anywhere along the circuit wires. The AFCI is nearly twice as big as a standard breaker but does fit in the same box. I rewired several circuits in the box in order to keep things neat while making room for the monster AFCI.

Even though I’d cut the main power to do the work, Chris stood nearby with my sturdiest Aeroflex wooden hockey stick, poised to bat my arm in case current somehow snuck through the disengaged main. As we cleaned up, I thanked him for his help. Chris grinned, “Stand by, ready to smack my wife with a hockey stick? No problem! What husband wouldn’t do that?”

Twelve Years Later

While Ross was out sick last week, his class read The Witches, by Roald Dahl, and they also saw the movie. Today, Ross had trouble with a comparative writing assignment because he'd missed most of the book and movie he was supposed to be writing about. I was about to send Chris out to the library when he remembered we have a copy of the book and, despite the fact that 90% of our books are still in boxes three years after we moved, I was able to locate this one in under five minutes. I handed it over to Ross, who dutifully camped in a big chair and began to read.

About four pages in, a funny looking slip of paper fell out. Ross studied it for a minute, then handed it over for interpretation. It was a check for $39.38, from our landlord in Brooklyn dated 9-15-1995. 1995! $40! I would be happy to find $40 today...but back then $40 was half our savings account. I can't imagine how we failed to cash it. I also can't imagine how it got into a book that I've never read, but that's something else altogether. Bits of our life since 1995 flashed through my head and, by the time I'd crossed the room (a marriage, two houses, two kids, two cars, and two cats later) to Chris, the thrill of "found money" had worn off and reality had set in. I smiled, though, as Chris lit up, "Think we can cash it?"

"I sort of doubt it," I said. "Twelve years aside, there might be a problem with the bank." I thrust the check farther forward a bit and pointed at the lower left corner, indicating the World Trade Center address. A lot has changed in the world these last twelve years...and not just because Chris and I went and had some kids.

Sprung

It was 70° last week...and then it wasn't. What would you do with 3" thick blocks of ice, chipped one-by-one from your driveway because of some inner desire not to be the neighbor who didn't shovel?

Real Moms Don't

Slouching Mom has solicited my input on the definition of Real Moms.

Real Moms don't mind if the neighbors use their children as lawn jockeys now and then:

With everyone else staring at the kids, Mom gets a few quiet minutes for herself!

Epiphany, OMSH, SpiceGirl, Fraukow...are you game? Navilyn? How about a Real Dad's perspective? Kristin at The Mom Trap started this one and details are here if you need more to go on.

Horizontal

I've been attacked by a sinus infection. It's gotten frisky and spread to my ears and is refusing to be tamed by modern medication. If I'm not calling you back, it's because I would speak a little too loudly into the phone and not be able to hear what you said back. If I'm not returning an e-mail message, it's because typing one handed while clutching my painful ear is not much fun. I'm hoping the new course of meds I started today will be more magical than what I've been on...if so, I'll be catching up with all of you soon!

NYFC

The tail end of rush hour found me fighting my way on foot down Eighth Avenue, headed for Penn Station and trains west. As I crossed the last street, I noticed a truck driver having a shout-fest with a pedestrian who'd crossed in front of the truck, against the light. The pedestrian shouted back, which ired the driver enough that he leaped out of the truck and went after the pedestrian. The driver got maybe fifteen feet from the truck before the guy who begs at that corner got into the truck. I stuck around only long enough to get a look at the driver's reaction as he realized what was happening - classic! I like happy endings, so I'm choosing to believe the corner guy would've just pulled the truck around the corner as a service to the lunatic driver who had abandoned his vehicle mid-intersection (I don't know if he ever moved the truck at all - he hadn't by the time I went into the station). If nothing else, I hope the corner guy gets a warm place to sleep and a good meal tonight. Might have been all he was after - if street life provides enough to afford truck parking in Manhattan, I need to consider a career change!

Baby Blacks?

2007 is the Year of the Black Eye for Lars. He's balanced the slight discoloration and lump leftover from his gym class collision in January with a few scrapes and some fresh color on the other side of his face, trophies from a tangle with a sidewalk up at the school. We are getting used to this school notice (and Lars likes wearing the sticker):


Lars thinks MoMo and Opa are better than the tooth fairy - he gets $5 for each black eye. The first one was folded around a picture of Tante Fraukow, sporting her own doozy. This most recent one came with a note to please stop getting black eyes, as MoPa are running out of $5 bills!

Early Evening

Six-thirty finds Ross and I cuddled on the couch, in pajamas already. After school and homework, he took a nap before dinner...a sure sign of not feeling well. He did manage to wake for dinner, his request for this week, corned beef and cabbage with soda bread (no groans, Grandmoo...*we* like it!). Right after, though, he crawled into my lap and voiced no complaint when I suggested he get into pjs. So, here we are. We just read Haiku! Gesundheit, wrote a new post and commented on some others. I'm behind in blogging - the last few weeks have been brutal on the work side and I've chosen to use my precious free time playing hockey. My season is about to end, so I won't have the option to play as often again until September. I'm sad to have it end but part of me will like the few extra hours each week. Also, my games won't conflict with the kids' games anymore, so I'll get to see them play.

Ross is sitting here reading (and editing) as I type. If I pause to think about wording, he offers help - so some of these words I'm typing are his. It's the first time I've had help writing a blog post and it's odd...but I like it a lot. Maybe sometime soon, Ross will have a blog of his own? Time will tell, I suppose.

Chris and Lars are just done with their Very Hot Bath, an attempt to combat the vicious phlegm threatening to overtake them. Individually, we've got a few minor complaints but taken as a whole, we're a wreck! Hopefully, we'll get through this without all the symptoms piling up on one person at once.

That's about it for now. I will work on posting more often again, although probably not until the weekend. I've got plans to check out the city in -12 for the rest of this week...big, mainly unbloggable, fun. Maybe I'll get lucky and sit near someone worth writing about on the train? Here's hoping whoever it is is not notable for their smell.

Sunny Saturday

Ross, on the phone with a friend who lives on our road: "Yeah, I can play until four. I'll meet you halfway in the woods with all of my sticks that we'll need." Hanging up, he put on a hat, carefully selected sticks from a pile he had stashed on the porch, and took off for the creek to do whatever it is that eight-year-old boys do in the woods with imported sticks.

First Game

We are a hockey family (in case you hadn't noticed) and, as such, I'm proud to post pictures from the boys' first competitive hockey game! Their sweaters are missing the custom front logo, which will be added when they arrive:

Here's one of the boys together:

Lars, taking a faceoff:

Ross, blocking a shot:

Also, a video clip (of course). Ross blocks a shot and a rebound! Not quite the NHL but we couldn't be more proud!

For OMSH

A week or so ago, OMSH posted a picture of a kitchen-tastrophe. Looking at the photo reminded me of a cupboard in the kitchen we had in our first house, which I happen to have a picture of (starring 15-month-old Ross):


We loved that cupboard (you could tell exactly what you had on hand and nothing was ever lost behind anything else...) but I'll leave it for you to determine if the doors really helped the kitchen-tastrophiness.

A year or so later, the pot shelves became much more interesting. Taking inventory with your little brother around can be maddening so why not tuck him safely into a pot? He'll even get in there on his own...all you need to do is get the lid on!


Best be quick about it, though...looks like he might suspect:

Tooth Fairy Q&A

Q. If your tooth comes out while you're having snack at school but you don't realize it until you're done with your cookie and you can't find the tooth (but the school nurse still gives you a little plastic tooth-chest), will the Tooth Fairy still show up? A. Yes. She still even leaves you money!

A2. She also visits your friend's house, even though he lost (and I do mean lost) his tooth in the hallway* and not during snack.

* Job I never really thought about as gruesome but now realize that it involves finding assorted lost teeth: School Custodian.Q. What do you do when you're jealous of your brother getting money from the Tooth Fairy?

A. Yank out a tooth of your own*. For extra credit, select a tooth that does not have a replacement fully grown in behind it so that your loss will represent the first actual tooth gap in recent family history.

* It's a good thing he had a loose one started...he knows where we keep the pliers!

Who's Next?

HAIKU! Gesundheit.

where are all the posts?
they are hiding over here:
check out our new site!

long weekend from school
we will take family trip
returning monday

Birthday Presents

"I've been wanting this FOR YEARS!" proclaims the newly six-year-old boy as he tears open a package containing some stuff none of us have previously heard of. My heart slows, ears pinned back, brain rapidly searching memory banks for historical information on the sort of damage the subject product might do. A few vague thoughts flash but no concrete facts come to mind.

"No Glue, No Mess!" promises the package (in hot pink type that stands out even against the fun, multi-colored, very wordy, packaging) and I begin to relax. Interested, I read about the different things contained in the kit and smiled at some of the things we might build. Little, of course, is all over with popular information: what the stuff can be shaped into, what it can be molded around, what might be stuck in it. He is vocally planning to subject Glubby to a molding session when I noticed the following, at the bottom of the box:

Caution: Product may stain or adhere to fabrics and other surfaces. Avoid contact with eyes, hair, carpet, upholstery, wall, clothing, and varnished surfaces. To remove: scrape off excess and wash with detergent and hot water, repeat if necessary. Do not pre-treat stain or use chlorine, also dry cleaning will not remove stains.

No Mess!?! There is nothing in our house that is not eyes, hair, carpeted, upholstered, a wall, clothing, or varnished! I will need to make my child play with this stuff while naked, bald, and in a concrete cell! Naked, easy. Bald, no problem. Anyone got a concrete cell I can borrow?

Senior Year Soundrack

I'm taking part in the Senior Year Soundtrack, an effort to ease the boredom of Zube Girl, who's been restricted to bedrest due to a delicate pregnancy. From the challenge:

"There are certain songs that, as soon as I hear them, I’m instantly taken back to a very specific time and place. Driving with the windows down, age 16, never knowing what freedom and independence felt like until I was able to just get my damn self somewhere all own my own, thank you very much. Sitting with friends in a basement or a living room, sipping the beer we’d persuaded someone’s older brother to buy and trading gossip. Riding home in the middle of the night after a post-concert Vic & Bill’s run spent scarfing cheese fries and swapping hair and makeup tips with the drag queens from the club next door.

Somehow, while I was getting ready this morning, five or six of these songs played in a row on my iPod and I started wondering what songs did this same little time travel number on other people. My accidental playlist happened to place me squarely in the middle of my senior year in high school. 1994-95. So from this and a few conversations with Zube Girl sprang forth the idea for “Senior Year Soundtrack.” What are your senior year songs? Are they from high school or college? What are the stories behind them? And most of all…could you be persuaded to share them with the internet?"

So...could I be persuaded to share my senior year soundtrack? Having graduated in the '80s? When music was...well, I'm not sure what music was doing in the 80's. Despite this, I found a playlist I was willing to fess up to:

Aerosmith – Angel
Alphaville – Forever Young
Animotion – Obsession
Barenaked Ladies – The King of Bedside Manor
Billy Joel – This is the Time
Blotto – I Wanna Be a Lifeguard
Cowboy Junkies – Blue Moon Revisited
Cutting Crew – (I Just) Died In Your Arms
Def Leppard – Pour Some Sugar On Me
Duran Duran – Wild Boys
Genesis – Horizons
Heart – These Dreams
Howard Jones – Things Can Only Get Better
Kajagoogoo – Too Shy
Led Zepplin – Ozone Baby
Lloyd Cole and the Commotions – Jennifer She Said
OMD – If You Leave
Queen – You’re My Best Friend
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Me and My Friends
The Cure – Friday I’m In Love
The Style Council – You’re the Best Thing
Thompson Twins – Hold Me Now
U2 - With or Without You

So...what's your playlist?

School Birthday Haiku

three kids in class with

birthdays in February
one celebration

cupcakes, grapes, brownies
Jell-o jigglers, juice boxes
goody bags and games

half-hour frenzy
oh sugar, sugar, sugar!
all the children sing

home again, a call:
how could you bring EGGS to school?!?
without telling me!?!

no eggs in Jell-o
hypo-allergenic snack
and no eggs in juice

ms. egg allergy
we never found out her name
who the heck are you?

some other mother
(how could she!) baked cupcakes with
EGGS (gasp); so sorry

your kid, who's eight now?
knows she can't eat eggs and so...
she ate the Jell-o

Stentorian Soliloquy

Ross, declaring to himself in an empty room: I have a choice; to give up my wife, or give up my duck. I choose.........the duck.

Button Quest

Years ago, Fraukow gave me a long, green Loden wool coat from Austria that she wasn't using anymore. It was missing decorative buttons on the sleeve cuffs and has since lost one button at the bottom of the front placket but I love it and wear it all the time in winter - it's really warm and covers most of me. I don't mind the missing buttons, especially since I doubt anyone except me ever notices, but I've had an eye out over the years for replacements. I don't frequent sewing shops but I look every time I'm in one and I've never seen anything remotely close to the smooth, marbled green domes the coat came with.

At some point over the summer, it occurred to me that I enter and leave Manhattan via Penn Station - located in the heart of the NYC garment district - several times a week. If there are specialty button shops in the city, they're bound to be nearby, so I resolved to find replacement buttons to fix the coat this year. Here's where the fun starts. You can't match a custom button without having one along and I wasn't about to pull another one off so I figured I'd look for a shop the next time I wore the coat to town. But it hasn't been cold enough to require a full-length loden wool coat. It's barely been cold enough to need a coat at all. Then, FINALLY, it was a little cold (it was dark out when I got up but there might have been frost) and I wore the wool coat to town. I was fine at first but by 10:30am, I was cursing the weatherman and by noon I was carrying the coat. Still; had buttons, could match. I found a button shop and went in.

The first guy admired the buttons but said he had nothing close to their color and shape and suggested I try a shop about sixteen blocks away. I thanked him and headed out in the direction of his recommendation, hoping I'd run across a closer shop and, indeed, I did. The woman in shop #2 glared at me - apparently she doesn't like utilitarian buttons. Her stock is all decorative and small and she sent me off with instructions to check the same place as the first guy. By that point, I realized I wouldn't be able to get all the way to the other shop and still make my train, so I abandoned the effort. On my way over to Penn Station, I passed one more button place and stopped in quickly, only to find myself back on the street moments later with yet another instruction to go uptown.

Three strikes, three recommendations for the same competitor. They're either playing with me (like the waste disposal companies at home, which have seven distinct company listings in the phone book but all are answered by the same lady...) or that's the place to go. I stuck a note in my coat pocket with the address and headed home.

Weeks later, it was again cold enough to wear the coat and - even more surprising than the seasonal temperature - I finished early and had a bit of time to try the other shop. I sprinted uptown. Wow. Floor to ceiling buttons! Floor to very high ceiling buttons! Filling the whole shop! TONS of buttons. All colors, all sizes, all shapes! Except, of course, one to match exactly what I was looking for. Still, with so many choices, I had several that were close to choose from. I decided to stick with the color and compromise on the domed shape. I bought enough buttons to make a full replacement but will probably only put the flat ones on for the cuff buttons. I might or might not also stick a flat button at the bottom of the placket; I never button that button anyway, so I don't think it makes much difference.

Place your bets now for how long it will take me to install the new buttons! I got home and noticed the old buttons are not held on with standard thread...it's much thicker (but not as thick as yarn). So, a new quest begins - to find the right thread. Yes, I have realized that when I find the correct thread I should also get a matching needle. And yes, I am very tempted to wait until spring and make this all the problem of the tailor at my dry cleaner!

Happy Birthday Bug!

Eight years ago:

















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Six years ago:

Yes...they are watching the Sabres score!





















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Today!