No one appreciates the voice of reason

In typical post-Christmas fashion, the kids have gleefully been spending all their free time on the Wii these days. Their favorite game at the moment is Super Smash Brothers Brawl, which (as might be inferred from the title) is a fighting game. In fact, the only possible point of this game (again, which should be inferred from the title) is to have your character beat up on the characters of the other people you're playing with.

Naturally, then, the only sounds I hear from the living room are obnoxious fighting sound effects, shouts of "DUDE!" and "STOP IT!"...and my favorite, tears (from the girl). Without fail, Erin laments every time she plays that "EVERYONE IS BEATING UP ON ME BECAUSE THEY SAY I'M AN EASY TARGET!!!"--but refuses to either suck it up or leave the game until I've had enough of the shouts and tears and send her out of the room. Tonight was a particularly hard-fought (and hard-lost) battle, or at least I assumed as much from the screaming. After realizing that I will never be able to concentrate on the fractions and decimals my students will need to affix to number lines tomorrow with That Kind Of Racket going on in the other room, I once again banned Erin from the front of the house until further notice "cheerfully encouraged" her to find an alternate activity.

"FINE!" she shouted at the boys, stomping off to her room. "When I find my gift card, I'm going to buy a really fun game and not let ANY OF YOU PLAY!" Chris, who received a gift card of the same amount, shrugged. "What kind of game do you think you're going to buy for $10?" Erin wasn't that easily shut down. "I have other money," she insisted. "How much? At least $20?" Chris inquired. Erin scowled. "No, not that much." Chris didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Well then, you can't get a game," he informed her."You're not the boss of me! You can't tell me what I can and can't buy!" Erin yelled at him. Chris was annoyed. "I'm not telling you what to do; I'm telling you that you simply don't have enough money!"

I'm hoping this exchange has made Erin angry enough to swear off video games with "Smash" or "Brawl" in the title. In the meantime, I think Chris has sworn off sisters...

30 days of thankful...in one

I've noticed a lot of people participating in the Facebook tradition of listing one thing they're thankful for each day of November. While part of me would like to participate, most of me knows that I'd get through four days, skip a couple, make them up all at once, skip a few more, and give up on the whole deal before we even hit the 10th. So, because I know myself, I'm going to cheat and do the entire month all at once.


#1-7: My family. Parents, sisters, kids. I would not be the person I am today (or, in the case of my parents, here at all) without them, and couldn't imagine my life without each of them in it (although if the kids could just go on "vacation" for awhile...KIDDING). I am not about to rank anyone in order of importance...just know you're somewhere in the top 7.
#8. My boyfriend. Who is probably the best thing Texas has given me, and is actually in the top 7 and not in 8th place, but you try telling a family member they've been knocked down a spot...
#9. Extended family & friends. I am grateful to have people in my life that have my back.  Especially the people that have no obligation to be there anymore, but have chosen to stay anyway.
#10. Texas. It seemed crazy to pack up and move halfway across the country with nothing lined up for me when I got there...but holy crap has this turned out to be the best thing I could have ever done!  Everything that was wrong in CA is right in TX. My budget situation is better, my standard of living is better, I've had great job opportunities, I've met amazing people...I could not possibly be in a better place.
#11. My job. I get to TEACH!! I feel lucky to be a part of the public school system. The system in general may need some overhaul, but there is no other place I'd rather spend my working hours than in a classroom.
#12. My health. Because seriously, how screwed would I be if I had these kids to take care of alone, and wasn't physically able to do so? I've been very fortunate these past five years.
#13. My kids' health. Because, again, while it's been hard at times to do this parenting thing by myself, I can't imagine what it would have been like if anyone had had a serious health condition.
#14. Running. While I still say I dislike training, the races and events are a blast, and I've met some great people at them. I love that I have an outlet for stress and something that keeps me busy and fit at the same time.
#15. Technology. Because I would be very unhappy if laundry involved a tub of water and a clothesline. And because it's pretty awesome when I can still talk to and SEE one of the people I love most in the world even when that person is nine or so time zones away. For a year.
#16. Shoes. GORUCK people know why.
#17. Clean floors. I'd like to say "clean floors that someone else made that way," but I don't think such a phenomenon exists...
#18. Hugs. There is something magic about a hug that makes everything bad seem less so. And happily all three kids still like giving them...because it would be weird to try to meet my hug quota with strangers...
#19. Music. I wouldn't have my sanity without it.
#20. Adventure. I'm glad for opportunities to try things that are completely new and to go places I've never been...all my best memories start that way.
#21. Books. Best ready-made entertainment ever.
#22. Fresh starts. Because while there is no "do-over" option in life, it's awesome to know that wherever you are isn't where you have to stay. See #10.
#23. Hindsight. It's a tough teacher, but the lessons are good ones.
#24. Actual sight. I didn't expect to ever be listing my glasses on a list of things I'm thankful for, but I have to admit, it is pretty nice to see things clearly.
#25. Ice cream. It fixes everything.
#26. Coffee. This should have been much, much higher on the list.
#27. Water. Not the drinking kind (though I suppose that ought to be on the list too, what with the whole "being necessary for life" thing it has going for it), but the body-of kind. Oceans in particular, but lakes and rivers will do in the absence of a good ocean. Nothing rivals a good, long drive along a coastline in the category of "things that soothe the soul."
#28. Being a grownup...and being able to say "I don't care that this is not 30 things, I'm done anyway." While there are definitely more things in life I'm glad to have, I'm leaving the last couple spots on the list to be open for more good things to come. Because I'd like to think there's more awesomeness headed my way that would rank above whatever I'd think up for spots #29 and #30.

Picture Day

Well, it's fall, and since we've already seen the first hectic back-to-school weeks and the first fundraiser of the year (thankfully all cookies and pies this time), that means it's time for the second-worst day of the school year so far: picture day. (The first-worst day is the first day, obviously, as that requires not only prepwork in the form of outfit-planning and haircut-inspecting, but also marks the much-dreaded End of Sleeping In.)

Since I have children of both genders, I have two distinctly different problems with picture day.

Getting the boys ready for picture day involves mandatory showers (then mandatory second showers that actually include soap and shampoo), frantic laundering of acceptable clothing, and then crossed fingers and prayers that pictures will take place before lunch/recess/other messy or sweaty times.

Getting the girl ready for picture day is a much more intense and drawn-out experience. The evening begins with outfit selection: it is not enough, she insists, to look "normal." She needs to look "so good that the teachers will all say 'Wow, Erin, that's a great outfit for picture day!'" And apparently intends to make that happen by wearing a dress she wore to a dance two years ago that is now at least three inches too short and may or may not meet the school's dress code regarding straps/sleeves. I veto that dress; she responds by carrying in three other also-too-small dresses and exasperatedly sighing that those dresses are also "acceptable" and I should pick one of those for her to wear instead, then. I encourage a shirt-and-skirt combination, hoping to at least get her in a shirt that looks seasonally appropriate and not like I think I am sending her to a beach party. This brings about wailing that ALL OF THOSE DRESSES ARE JUST FINE and THERE IS NOTHING ELSE THAT IS "PICTURE DAY" NICE in her drawers, but she finally comes back with two "also acceptable" outfits for consideration. The first is a shirt-and-pants combo, which would be perfect if the pants were pants and not super-tight black tights that are not sufficiently covered by the lacking-in-length shirt she chose to go with them. Hoping to not get my daughter labeled a pole dancer in fourth grade, I ask to see the second outfit, which is a glorious mismatch of striped/vested shirt and poofy floral skirt. The skirt won't show in pictures, so I want to choose that one, but can no longer remember what she wore last year or when the shirt in question was purchased...I seem to recall a photo of her in purple last year...I can't be sure it's not a repeat. It's a risk I'm willing to take. I acquiesce. She takes her piles of clothing, though not her attitude, out of my room...and returns with a pile of obnoxious, non-matching hair accessories. It's as if she wants her school picture to be a visual scrapbook of all her favorite, non-related things.

But on the upside...at least she'll bathe, and I won't have to worry she'll look homeless.

Rain, rain, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GO AWAY.

It's raining, and I'm beginning to think all three of the kids have Seasonal Affective Disorder. At the very least, they're suffering from what I'd like to call It's Raining So I'm Going To Be A Butt To Everyone Syndrome.

All day long they've been tv-watching, computer-game-playing zombie children. Since there is a direct correlation between how much time they spend vegging in front of electronics and how late at night they stay up insisting they are not remotely tired, I decided five or so hours of the tv blaring one episode of Malcom in the Middle after another was quite enough and it was high time for them to find Something Else To Do. My helpful suggestions to take out the trash and recycling were somehow not appreciated, so they all decided instead to make themselves scarce and find alternate activities.

Unfortunately, said alternate activities included making obnoxious noises without stopping for 10 minutes straight, yelling at the sibling making obnoxious noises (also for 10 minutes straight), sitting on the bed of a sibling trying to read a book in peace, whining and crying that someone was sitting too close and therefore somehow preventing him from reading, arguing over whether or not sitting on the wooden bed frame counted as "being on the bed," and just generally yelling in a cranky voice anything at all that needed to be said to anyone for any reason--or anything that didn't need to be said, too.

I know this is Texas and everyone is excited we're getting some badly needed rain, but if this doesn't stop soon I'm going to send them outside for the rest of the day and look forward to the pneumonia they might catch because then maybe they'll BE QUIET for a few minutes...

Probably shouldn't have gone there...

I was in the middle of the kids' requested nightly reading of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy tonight when, as tends to happen when three kids plus one adult are all squished in one bed, things got a little rambunctious. I was trying to get Brian to stop fake-slapping Erin when she shouted a perfectly timed, "Can't touch this!" that gave me a giggling fit. "Okay, MC Hammer," I told her, "calm down and I'll keep reading." The boys laughed at that and asked why in the world I called her MC Hammer, and in a state of shock, I headed to my laptop to give them a musical education courtesy of youtube.

I explained MC Hammer was the person responsible for the song Erin referenced, and Chris exclaimed, "Oh, I think I remember seeing something about a McHammer guy!" "Not McHammer!" I shrieked--"Em. Cee. Not Mc! He wasn't Scottish!!"

Youtube provided a grainy quality video of "You Can't Touch This" that had my kids in a laughing fit within three seconds, providing commentary like "what in the world is he wearing, a blanket?" and "look at how he dances--jiggly jiggly oh, jiggly jiggly oh!" I tried to explain that THIS was rap, circa when I was their age. Brian face-palmed.

After that we looked up the top ten songs of 1990, viewed some Madonna, and ridiculed Sinead O'Conner and LL Cool J before stumbling upon the terrifically horrific Deee-Light. Then I remembered that Supersonic song all the girls went around singing when I was in elementary school, where we didn't remember any of the words except that the S is for Super and the U is for Unique...(you're welcome ;)

The kids were pretty much horrified that THAT is what music videos consisted of when I was young, and what got lots of airplay on the radio. Erin patted my shoulder. "I feel so sorry for you," she sympathized. "How did you survive?" At some point they started making obligatory "you're really old" comments that I showed obligatory annoyance about, so Brian offered an apology.

"I'm sorry for making fun of your culture."

:/

I was going to explain that soon after this regrettable era in music I discovered The Cure and Guns N Roses, and soon after that, punk rock...but found it much easier to just send them all to bed instead. ;)

Of love and bike-wrangling

If there were ever any doubt in the kids' minds as to whether or not I love them and care about their happiness, there should not be any longer. Today is all the proof they will ever need. Today is Bike Rodeo day at the elementary school.

Erin has been talking for months about the bike rodeo, and by "talking about" I mean "demanding to 'practice' every time she was instructed to do anything less pleasant than bike riding, such as room-cleaning or going to bed"...pretty much ever since it was announced, several weeks after she learned to ride her two-wheeler. It was originally scheduled for last month, but got rescheduled due to rain, which was good because I forgot about it and didn't send her to school with her bike. Luckily I got to claim that I had advance notice about the cancellation--more proof for her that Mothers Know Everything.

This month I was determined to remember the bike rodeo and not repeat my past fails in the departments of school fundraisers and permission slips. Erin's heart was set on participating, and darn it, I was determined to let her. It would be easy enough, I figured, to load her bike in the car and drive her to school; if I left at the same time the bus usually picks her up, I'd still make it to work at my usual time.

Then at 11 pm last night, Chris informed me that he, too, would like to participate in the bike rodeo. This development made things exponentially more interesting, as with the back seats folded down for bike transport, only one child could then fit in the car, and no one wanted to ride the bus and entrust their bike to me alone.

So here's how the morning went:

6 am: Wake up to an alarm set half an hour before I've been rolling out of bed lately, programmed to the sound of obnoxiously loud church bells to ensure I pay attention and wake up. Panic because I don't usually wake up to church bells and in my half-asleep state, momentarily wonder if I have been transported during the night to a village in England.

6:02 am: Realize I am indeed still in Texas and need to get up right away because it's Bike Rodeo Day. Scurry to the bathroom to get ready.

6:25 am: Wake the children and realize too late I have not made coffee. Dash off to the kitchen, where I get distracted mid-coffee-preparing by unloading the dishwasher. (???) Remember I haven't started brewing coffee. Priorities!

6:45 am: Kids are now ready. I load Erin's bike into the back of my car. Spend 10 minutes trying to load Chris's bike on top of it, but apparently his bike is made of solid iron. Tell Chris I'll have to transport them one at a time, and will come back in 15 minutes or so for him. Realize I have no eyeliner on. Grab eyeliner to put on in car on way to work.

7:00 am: Arrive at school with Erin's bike. Get her checked in, get instructions on where/when to retrieve bike later. As I turn to leave, she informs me she'd like me to come and watch her--which up until this point she had not wanted, so I hadn't arranged any time off from work. Make promises to do my best to return, and do my best to not look at her puppy-dog eyes. I have no time for guilt this morning!

7:10 am: Return home and load Chris's iron bike into the car. Run into the house for coffee. Apparently still with eyeliner in hand, which I apparently leave on the kitchen counter without realizing it.

7:20 am: Arrive at school again, where I am now stuck in a line of 20 other parents all dropping off bikes. Discover that I have been wrong about Chris's bike--it is not made of iron. It is made of solid lead. Grunt and groan and eventually get said 500-lb bike out of the back of my car. Escape bike gridlock and head to work.

7:30 am: Sit in gridlock because I am now on the freeway when all of San Antonio drives to work. Glance in rearview mirror and realize my eyes are naked. My eyeliner! Mentally exclaim "Nooooooooo!" a la Star Wars.

8:05 am: Arrive at work and make plans to leave again in just over two hours so that I can go watch Erin weave her bike through six cones and ride in a circle as slow as she can go without falling off. Yes, those are the skills tested in the bike rodeo. With a name like Bike Rodeo and taking place in a state like Texas, I'd expect there to be some lassoing or clowns...but no, I will be missing an hour or so of work to watch my daughter ride in a small circle at .00000001 miles per hour for maybe two minutes.

Yes...THIS is love. Either that, or insanity.

Kids' memories: like elephants, but for all the wrong things

I am continually amazed at the sheer power my children have to recall the most minute details of seemingly insignificant moments that happened long ago. I won't go so far as to say they have good memories, because these same children don't remember what happened at school that day, to give me a permission slip for a field trip due that week, their house keys, their homework, their jackets, or even to put away groceries that they were RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of putting away. No, when it comes to anything actually important, my kids' minds are a sieve.

But leave it to Erin to remember a conversation we must have had at least four months ago when I was likely busy doing something requiring concentration, and she was supposed to be cleaning her room. I don't quite recall how it came about, but she must have found an unused bedsheet in her room, and decided it would make a beautiful tablecloth. Knowing Erin, she probably decreed that the sheet, with its purple floral pattern, would make a great tablecloth for X holiday or for spring or even right that minute...and knowing me, I probably mumbled something to the effect of "uh huh, oh, but not now, let's try that later, go put it away," which of course means "that's a craptastic idea, it's a BEDSHEET, it doesn't go on a table, but I'm not going to hurt your feelings so go put it away and I'll hope you forget all about it." Which it appeared she did, as it wasn't mentioned for four months.

Fast forward to today, and the girl who can't remember where she put her shoes five minutes ago suddenly has an epiphany. "MOM! MOM! Tomorrow is EASTER! We need the special tablecloth!!! You know, the one with all the flowers!" I am wracking my brain, trying to recall what Easter tablecloth I have and where it might be packed away, when she returns with...a sheet. "HERE MOM USE THIS IT'S SO PRETTY IT'S PERFECT FOR EASTER LOOK AT ALL THE FLOWERS! Isn't it BEAUTIFUL?!!" And I try to explain again it's a SHEET, for her BED, and she has SLEPT on it and we don't particularly want to eat a meal on something she's slept on. And there are puppy dog eyes and crocodile tears and stomping of feet and protests that "BUT MOM YOU PROMISED, DON'T YOU REMEMBER?"

Sigh.

So it may be a good thing we don't have company this year for Easter. And if the tablecloth that shows in our Easter morning pictures tomorrow looks a little...off...all I can say is Erin is pretty darn persuasive. Which is a polite way to say "loud and obnoxious and sometimes it's easier to just give in than try logic and reason."