Boo! (updated)

Lars as Pokémon Gengar

Ross as Luke Skywalker

Ross as Luke Skywalker with Aniken Enhancement (scar on face).

Gengar did not want purple face makeup, would not stand still for a pre-trick-or-treating picture, and collected 103 pieces of candy (he had to count them and make tally marks as his homework tonight). For those keeping track of the proceedings on Worst.Mama.Ever., Lars completed 68 "I must not carve on furniture" lines in order to be able to go out tonight. When asked if he'd be carving things on furniture again, he snapped, "Mama! No. Really, NO."

Happy Halloween from our house to yours! Chris carved our pumpkins this year Pokémon Gengar (Lars); my hockey team; and Luke Skywalker for Ross. The back of my Wings pumpkin is carved "Bears" for the kids' team. Here's hoping my pumpkin will break the hex and I'll be back on the ice by the end of November!

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Well, ok, he joined us for breakfast today.

Rain in the Back Hall (again)

Once upon a time, we had a rainstorm that looked and sounded very, very much as if Niagara Falls was passing through on its' way to Florida or someplace. We marveled at the solid block of water and did the Dry Basement Happy Dance. Later that same week, while making dinner, I thought I heard that sort of rain again but was horrified to find the crashing water pouring through the ceiling into the back hall! It turned out the boys had been bouncing on the PVC upstairs water feed and it hadn't held up. It also turned out that we did not, in fact, have a shut-off to the upstairs...but that's a tale for another time.

More recently, Chris and I were standing in the back hall when water started tricking down again from above. Chris dashed toward the basement where he knows the exact location of the upstairs shut-off valve we now have but, before he got all the way down the stairs, I called him back - it wasn't water. Lars had gotten himself out of bed to use the bathroom and had sleepily missed the pot...the "rain" was boy-made. Thankfully, we haven't fixed the ceiling from the first disaster, so clean up was reasonable and we were chuckling about the poor kid in short order.

Tonight, we were finishing off odds and ends in the den when we heard a tell-tale trickle and we both leaped up! Chris made it to the hall first to discover a sleeping Ross, half-way down the stairs, pants down, peeing. He'd missed the bathroom and had taken the next left - the stairs - and walked down as many steps as it would have taken to get to the toilet, if he'd been in the right room.

Note to self: The back hall is no place for rugs.

Classics

I am always amused when the kids come home with a classic like "Eeenie-Meenie-Miney-Moe." They are always so eager to share the new hip thing and so delighted when I catch on quickly.

"Scissors-Paper-Rock," which came home a while ago, has been making a comeback recently and the kids were playing yesterday in the car. The format is unchanged - fists are plunged three times in the center as the participants chant the title phrase, then hands are whipped into what one hopes will be the winning shape and compared around. A few rounds into the game, we heard both kids chant, "Scissors, Paper, Rock," followed by a triumphant roar of, "LIGHTNING GOD," which beat all.

The times? They have a-changed.

Stock Tip: Buy SBUX

I drove myself to the train station this morning (!!), stopping on the way for a latte (cue Hallelujah Chorus), which I could carry because I also navigated the city without crutches today! I got a round of applause in my Sbux for walking in on my own feet again, which probably means you would do well to invest now.

Eyes on the Prize

Full coverage and commentary at Worst. Mama. Ever.

Daily Reading

In first grade, you get one page of math homework and must read for 15 minutes each night, noting your work in a Reading Log. Today, Lars brought home a book from his classroom to read but he decided, instead, to read from a chapter book about dragons that we have here at home.

Lars is a very good reader but he's not THAT good, so I asked him to do his reading out loud for me. He flipped the book open without hesitation, then paused. "Mama, I'm not wanting to do this reading out loud," he said.

"Oh, no?"

He wrinkled his brow at the pages. "I don't know a lot of these words. The letters are the same but the words are all different," he observed.

"That might be a hard book to read out loud, then. Maybe you could try the book you brought home from school first?"

With a sigh, he went to retrieve the book from school. When he was done reading me the book, he made his log entry dutifully but with a hint of a flourish. "Did you know that I will get a sticker on the chart in my classroom if I read at least FIVE books a night?"

"Five? A night?" If so, they've upped the ante considerably from the five per week mark the first grades used when Ross went two years ago. "Do you think it might be five per week? I think five each night is a lot to ask."

He shook his head at me sincerely, "It is five books for each night and I can do it! I really can!" To illustrate this, he sprinted upstairs and returned with a Curious George - the one about the pizza - and began to read. Halfway through, he stopped. "Pizza for dinner is a great idea, Mama. We should take the advice of this book. It's really good advice!"

Does anyone have a copy of Curious George and the Canadian Baked Eggs I can borrow, fast?

Hikaru Dorodango

Japanese kids take mud play to a whole new level.

A Real Conversation

"Hello, I just got your e-mail, thanks! I see it says X-Y-Z. Do you mean X?"

"Yes, X."

"Ok, that's good. And Y? You mean Y?"

"Yes, Y."

"That's great - I wasn't expecting that. Now, about Z. When are you going to address Z?"

"Z is addressed in my message and there's an attachment to back it up, too."

"You mean you already responded to Z?"

"....Yes. If you'll read my e-mail, you'll find details for Z right after X and Y. And there's an attachment, Z.pdf, which cites other instances of this same issue and details resolution options."

"Well, fine! Fine, then. Now, all I need you to do is send me something detailing our options so I can present them to the client. Can you do that for me today?"

"Sure - in fact, it's already done! Check the attachments to the message I sent. There should be three files, full information on X, Y, and Z."

"Well, that's great then! All I need is for you to send me something I can share with the client."

"You can share these with the client."

"The client needs them printed out. Would you send me six copies? I have a meeting with them tomorrow."

"You can print as many copies of those .pdf files as you need."

"You can't print them for me?"

The conversation ended at this point, because I crawled into the phone and strangled the guy with my compression sock.

Being Supportive

You know how you're supposed to be supportive of your children, once they get older and start making their own decisions? Take room decor, for example. When we decorated the boys' room, I thought maps would make a good theme but they picked space ships. Even though I wouldn't have made that choice myself, there wasn't anything dangerous about their choice so I threw myself behind it and helped them select coordinating paint. I even hung the spaceship paper myself! (About 25% of it has been ripped off the wall near the upper bunk and another 30% is sagging down because our state motto really ought to be The Humidity State but I still supported their choice.)

Watching the boys make their own decisions is fascinating! At this stage, you can really SEE them think something over. Ross has an especially interesting thinking face - he can run through sixteen different looks in about five seconds and an actual lightbulb appears, illuminated, above his head when he reaches his conclusion. After the fun of watching them think, I feel it's only fair to reward their hard work by letting them actually make the decision. I know this may be contrary to my WME goal, but I'll redeem myself a little by telling you this:

I WILL NOT NOW, NOR WILL I EVER (EVER, EVER, EVER) SUPPORT MY ELDEST SON'S CHOICE OF FAVORITE NHL HOCKEY TEAM.

His choice - the NY Rangers (*spit*) - is SO offensive that it has the potential to get him kicked out of the will (well, ok, if there was a will)...and yet, tomorrow night, I'll be escorting him to one of professional hockey's most sacred temples to watch his team play. Worse, it's not even a Sabres contest! (Yes, yes, I do see all my current WMPs flying out the window.) At least my life will not be in jeopardy, as I will not be wearing any noticeable Sabres gear and I will be rooting, loudly, against the other team (NY Islanders). Note: I will NOT be rooting FOR the Rangers - I will be rooting AGAINST the Islanders. I'm hoping that my staunch refusal to support my kid in this matter will at least keep me from getting kicked all the way off WME.

*** Cross-posted at Worst. Mama. Ever. - Blogging here will return soon! ***

Pinocchio's Nose

The kids are not at all excited about their new hockey team uniforms and I just got those decorations out for Christmas in July.

If Only I Could Run

I've been partying with my sister-in-law for about seventeen years now, so you would think I'd know to run when she picks up a paint pen late at night but no, I sat still and even helped her move the bottom of my foot to a better angle. Then, I had to wait two days to get home so Chris could picture the bottom of my cast so I could see her work!

This little piggy...

The other side of my toes sport a bright enamel, courtesy of the one-leg & polish pedicure I had in Toronto while on WTHS.

Class of 1987

We went to Chris' twentieth high school reunion a few weeks ago. We're still in regular contact with a few people he graduated with, like Bibliofilly, but it was great to see some friends we hadn't seen since his 10th. Here's a shot of the gang who managed to figure out which "big tree" in the Fireman's Field Chris meant for everyone to meet under:

They look pretty good!

The Untold Story

Each tournament I've been to has a story and the most recent one is certainly no exception. I could sit back and let my broken leg reign as THE story of the MS 2007 tournament. I could even laugh and point out the enormous banner for St.Luke's - the hospital that patched me up - hanging in the background of the medals ceremony (I only noticed today when I processed the pictures).


...but my leg doesn't really doesn't deserve top billing. Anyone can break their leg while playing hockey...it takes a special someone, though, to hop into the wrong team bench at the end of her shift!

Time Out

We're spending this weekend in Bethlehem, PA, where I've been skating in the Hockey Fights MS tournament. I'm skating for a blended team of women from the Central Penn Blades and the Bridgewater Wings - the same gang I skated with last year. It's been fun so far:

Game 1: Win!


Game 2: Win!

Zambonis concert! Nothing like skating to your favorite hockey band!


Game 3: Loss - but we're still in the finals!

...except that I will have to cheer from the side. With 5:34 to go in the third of game 3, I slid into the boards today and fractured my left tibia. Ow! My sister will be glad to know there are good things to be recognized:

* The ER here was fast and everyone was really nice.

* The hotel has A/C - a luxury we have not got at home and would be really longing for tonight.

* I should only be out for 6-8 weeks; should be back on skates just in time to start the regular season.

Lars, Did You Have a Popsicle?

Ontario - Yours to Discover

There is no bridge on this road:


There is a giant chicken:


Perhaps the sign is to deter bird naturalists who might object to the cannibalistic overtones of the avian condo development?

Hello Helio

A few weeks ago, the 7 key on my cell phone stopped working so well. I could dial a 7 but not without REALLY meaning to and making six or eight attempts. It was ok, though - I could still dial numbers easily out of the contacts list and who needs to delete old voicemail messages?

Trouble was suggested when 3 also decided to play hard to get. My work extension has a 3 in it, so I need that 3 key to get into my office voicemail. Still, who am I kidding? I always forget to check my office voicemail anyhow (note to yourself: call my cell if you want something resembling a timely response).

When 6 and 9 joined the party, I got ticked - almost enough to seriously research a good replacement. The 3-in-1 device I've been holding out for the last year finally came out and it just doesn't live up to my hopes. I spent so much time identifying that device that I was just not looking forward to another round of technical reading.

Chris, however, delights in any excuse to spend time at Gizmodo or the tech blogs. So, in the background of my despair, he was industriously working for my cause and I came home one day to find a stack of information on a device I'd never heard of.

Following a minimal amount of my own reading, we went over to the Helio place in the mall and I blog before you today, the proud owner of a Helio Ocean!

After learning the basics and getting all my contacts squared away, the first thing I did was figure out how to add my own .mp3 ringtones and am in the process of assigning signature rings to everyone I know. While this could potentially win me a few cool points, it doesn't as I am so amused by the novelty that I forget to answer the call. If this happens to you, I'm sorry! Leave a message, though...all my number keys work (two sides!) so I can - and will - call you back.

Forest Friend

Yesterday afternoon, Chris called the house from the front yard where he was mowing. "You'll want to come out here and see this," he said. The boys and I got shoes and headed out to find him standing at the edge of our property, peering at the tiniest rabbit possible. The bunny had thankfully been sitting at the lowest point of the grass drainage run near the road, so it was terribly shocked but unharmed, even though Chris went over its' head with the mower.

There was some discussion about whether or not we could keep it as a pet. While we entertained the notion, Ross made a box for the bunny. He decorated with grass and cedar shavings and put in carrots, tender greens, and water (water dish hadn't made it into the box when I took the picture).


At first, the bunny only crouched in the corner, obviously frightened. All crunched up, he'd have fit inside a tennis ball - really small rabbit! Eventually, though, he started exploring the box. The carrots and clover Ross put in seemed of little interest, so I tried some broccoli and tomato leaves, which went over quite well (obviously - the teethmarks already in the leaves when I picked them are no doubt from this bunny's relations...).



Chris had a valid point that Pixie might have a problem with a rabbit living in the house. After the bunny was used to my hands and would crawl up and down my arms, sniffing, when picked up (instead of huddling into a trembling ball), I took him inside for an introduction. Pixie sniffed the bunny in a bored way, made a singular comment, and then set about pressing her head to my hands, asking to be pet. Clearly, the bunny was only going to be a stress point for her if he interfered with her chances of getting pet!



Pixie did get up a bit of rowdier interest when I let the bunny hop around on the floor briefly but returned to largely ignoring the bunny when I moved it back to the center of the room.

After the kids went to bed, I had the bunny curled up, sleeping, tucked on my lap in a fold of my t-shirt. Pixie asked to come up, an arrangement I figured wouldn't last long...but I was wrong. After Pixie got settled on my lap, the bunny wriggled out of my shirt and settled in next to Pixie, warm and purring. Unbelievable cuteness!

In the end, though, Chris prevailed. Considering Pixie's habits, we can't be sure a mouse-sized bunny would be safe here. So, last night after the kids were asleep, I took the bunny back down where we'd found him. I did tuck him a bit farther into the forest than the drain at the edge but not so far in that he wouldn't be able to find his way out again. We'll surely keep an eye out for tiny nibbles in our garden (although it might be tough to detect tiny nibbles hiding among the mongo nibbles of the other rabbits...).

Intermediate A

I passed! Despite many clear differences between me and the teenagers otherwise populating the class, I tested well enough in the clinic skills to gain two levels, Basic AA & Intermediate A. I got the clinic patch and the Basic A level stick last year, just for surviving the week. As a returning skater this year, I actually had to show I could do certain skills at the end of the week. The minimal amount of nearly falling over I did while testing was probably canceled out by the downy fresh scent of my hockey sweater, which shocked the instructor (if you've ever been into a skating rink, you'll know that hockey players - even girls - are not known for smelling good).

Chris was very tolerant of my moaning throughout the week (two hours of power skating a day is ouchy) and extremely supportive. Kath, you'll be encouraged to know that I needed a little kick to find the good thing mid-week...Chris filled in with the suggestion that I was the only clinic participant who could recuperate after the session with a nice cold beer, particularly one served by an attentive spouse willing to rub my sore legs. Despite all the pampering, I've asked Chris to try to remember to talk me out of it when I forget all this pain and try to sign up for this clinic again next year. By then, maybe it'll be time to start putting the kids through the torture mill instead of me...