The Fall of Fall

Upside Down You Turn Me

Sis and Bud saw a troupe of Chinese acrobats performing the most amazing tricks this weekend: body contortions, balancing acts on chairs and bicycles, spinning plates, flipping bowls on their head while pedaling unicycles, something we can only call "the yo-yo," tumbling (which is such a simple word for such amazing maneuvers!), lion dancing, among other things.

So of course that came home and wanted to do the exact same things.

Despite the fact that the performance was prefaced with an announcement "not to try this at home," a warning reiterated by Mama several times, along with "they've practiced for years."

Suffice it to say, those warnings didn't stick. The kids have been trying to replicate the easiest-looking of the tricks, only to find that it's really hard to catch a bowl on your head, even when you use your hand and not your foot to toss it there, or that you can't spin one plate on a stick much less three in each hand while flipping yourself back and forth.

They were a little more successful outside, on the rope ladder and monkey rings and the swings. Thank goodness we mulched that playset this summer! Not that I think 2 inches of bark will keep it from hurting when they fall on their heads. But that's the theory.

I did enjoy both their own acrobatic performance for us on Sunday and also watching the video of the troupe with them, particularly because I hadn't gone with them. Really amazing stuff, that, though I kept holding my breath lest they make a painful mistake and imagining how much I would hurt myself if I tried the same thing!

And I managed to teach the kids how to do a headstand, memories of my own thumping against the living room wall of my childhood home suddenly fresh in my mind. Note: couch pillows help.

But at least you can try that at home.

We Got Game

We've started a new family tradition: game night!

Except it's more like nights, in the plural, because we've played three different times in four days, since beginning the activity last Friday. But the kids loved it so much, as did Mama, and even game-averse me, that we've played a lot.

As originally organized, game night included playing games in our pajamas downstairs after dinner with special snacks to eat in the living room. Which was fun for several reasons--we usually go straight up for stories; we're rarely downstairs in our pjs at night; and we never eat in the living room. That night, we each chose a game--Zingo, dominoes, Hi-Ho Cheerio, and Bingo. The next night, Mama taught us Old Maid, played with a regular deck of cards and the Joker as the Maid. We used foil and plastic wrap boxes for the kids to hold all their cards at once and they laughed and laughed each time they got the Maid, alerting the next player. "Game face" means nothing to these kids. But that's all part of the learning process.

Which continues. Mama's on the hunt for the next generation of games, one step up from Chutes and Ladders and CandyLand, something with a bit more strategy but that doesn't involve lots of reading or math. I'm not sure how we feel about team games. She's thinking Sorry or Trouble or something new. We'll probably also expand our card game repertoire--Slap Jack, Go Fish, Battle, whatever. My knowledge of games is extremely shallow. Eventually, I imagine, game night might even involve group video games. We already did a three-way MarioCart race. But I'd need my own DSi.

I can't believe I just typed that. Things, they are a-changin'. And it's good.

Early to Rise, Early to Bed

The time change is for childfree people or parents of teenagers, those who do not have to contend with little kids who do not see the value in sleeping in an extra hour every fall.

Sis woke up at 5:45 a.m.--the new time--on Sunday, because, for her, it was 6:45 a.m.--the old time--and wake-up. And no amount of explaining could convince her it was not really morning.

The only saving grace? Bedtime last night was at 6:30 p.m. by the clock--it felt like 7:30 p.m. to them and it was dark, so there was no complaining.

Except from us, because regardless of the fact that we were awake the same number of hours, it was just all backwards.

It's one of the things I miss about my childfree days (hope you enjoyed it, Aunt Banana!). Though, that's not to say that I'm ready for them to be teenagers.

My Big Fat Greek Bean Pot

Revisiting one of my favorite cookbooks, Fresh From the Vegetarian Slow Cooker by Robin Robertson, I came across a recipe for that tomato-y white bean dish that I love so much (called fassolia, usually, I believe). And it so happens that I had purchased two bags of Greek gigante beans at the Greek Festival in the spring. I put the huge beans on to soak last night, with salt as is my new way (I've found that it's the acid not the salt that toughens beans), and boiled them til tender this morning. The smell of the garlic and onion sauteing in a ton of olive oil was perfect on this cold and windy morning. And the beans, now mixed with that and tomatoes in my slow cooker, smell fantastic! And you can eat them hot or cold . . . I just wish I had some bread and some baklava!

-=-=-=-=-=-

Greek Big Beans

1/4 cup olive oil

1 large yellow onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

3 cups slow cooked beans or two 15.5 oz cans lima or butter beans, drained and rinsed (or actual Greek gigante beans. I wonder if you could use fava?)

28 oz can diced tomatoes, with juices

salt and pepper

1/2 cup minced fresh parsley leaves

Heat oil and cook onion, covered, until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook another minute or so.

Transfer the onion and garlic to a 3 1/2 to 4-quart slow cooker. Add beans, tomatoes, and salt and pepper to taste. Stir. Cover and cook on LOW for 4-6 hours. Just before serving, stir in parsley.

Robin Robertson, Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker

Our American History

A timeline of history, according to Sis and Bud:

Star Wars

"little creatures"

dinosaurs

"Pequot people"

settlers

Revolutionary War

us

Surpise!

Sis woke up this morning, crying "Mommy!" something she hasn't done in a very long time.

Mama molted into her room, where Sis had been scared by a noise outside, as if the gutter was falling off.

Not quite, we realized, as we opened the window: SNOW!

Okay, not really snow, because it is above freezing and all but a very unexpected ice storm that looks like snow. (Actually, Accuweather is now calling it a mix of snow and rain).

So, they coated, mittened, hatted, and booted, rushing outside to play in the first white precipitation of "when we are 5!" The scraped together several snowballs and generally marveled at it all. And it is pretty.

Let the season begin!

Update (7:00 a.m.): It's falling as snow now! Big white chunky flakes. Against the red and yellow leaves . . . .

Halloween Fun 2010: The Finale

The orange-and-black boxes are almost completely backed, save the ghost we haven't unhooked from its spot on our porch or the wreath on the door. Otherwise, most vestiges of Halloween are gone. Well, except the two buckets of candy into which the kids occasionally dip.

And the jack o'lanterns.

Sis's is outside, happy fodder for the local wildlife, mainly brave squirrels who have already dragged off the lid and are making a mess of the remaining pumpkin.

But Bud's is on the porch, with a few pockmarks from marauding squirrels. We had (I thought) prepared him for the inevitability of the squirrels and how it was actually a nice thing to let them graze on the squash instead of tossing it in the trash. But he was distressed by the half-eaten eyes and couldn't bear any more rodent vandalism, weepily grabbing up the pumpkin that he had lovingly and carefully designed and carved and placing it safely on the porch.

Where it still sits.

I guess we're going to have to sneak it away sometime this week. Before it rots all on its own, which will be similarly depressing.

Waiting

I'm alone in the house. The kids went with Mama to a Chinese acrobats performance. And then for ice cream. They probably won't be home for awhile yet, having lots of fun on their afternoon out. And I, at home with my "weaver's bottom" (ischial bursitis), have been having a very quiet afternoon, with two episodes of "Tudors" and a walk, plus some cleaning and reading and emailing and talking on the phone. But even though I appreciate the rest and quiet, I can't wait to hear all about the lion dancers and the soft-serve . . . and have it be just a bit noisier.

Two of My Favorite Things

I haven't done an "In the Papers" since I've gotten out of bed, mainly because I'm not in bed anymore and am not reading as much.

But, I am reminded that this is my favorite time of year for two reasons: 1). holiday dinner recipes and 2). holiday baking recipes. I'm a glutton for all of those "bookazines" with 101 new cookies or great vegetable side dishes. And I watch the papers for interesting ideas to clip. In fact, I'm already planning 1). Thanksgiving dinner; 2). Thanksgiving potluck at church; 3). Cookies for a). our church bake sale and b). my playgroup cookie swap; and 4). edible gifts for teachers, service staff (you know, postal workers, vet personnel, pediatrician's staff--I'm not sure what the rubric would be for all of them), and friends. The only thing I'm not quite occupied with yet is Christmas. That will come in a few weeks. I love it!

And I have two places I'm avidly watching, the NYTimes' Vegetarian Thanksgiving series over at the Well Blog, and Baking Banter at King Arthur Flour. If you need ideas this holiday season, head over there and be inspired . . . .

They Might be Gods

It rained two inches on Thursday. But, because it was warmer, and there was no thunder, and, even more importantly, because school let out early, I let the kids play outside in the drizzle. Our driveway is not flat and thus develops great puddles and eddies when it rains. Perfect for splashing in. Then they began to sail leaf-boats and I suggested they were giants stomping over a little world.

But they wanted to be gods. Sis was the god of the sea, Poseidon, while Bud was Athena, god of crafts and wisdom. I was Artemis, in charge of all the animals, since I helped them save a worm. We splashed around the continents and oceans and peppered the lands with leaves and dug up and redistributed mud, wreaking havoc, causing floods, but sometimes taking care of the little people. We were good gods for the most part. Well, except for the flood.

So, I mentioned Noah and Gilgamesh, telling them that most cultures have flood narratives. All they could wonder is how all the animals of the world could fit in an ark. And I didn't even mention the unicorns . . . .

"All the Children Are Above Average"*

We had our first (and, I believe, only) kindergarten parent-teacher conferences today. One for each, of course. And I think we did an pretty good job of listening to the teacher's report, asking pertinent questions, and finishing on time.

Well, except perhaps with Bud's teacher, who got us giggling about Bud's forgetfulness. Earlier this week, apparently, Bud was at the computer station with the headphones on when it was circle time. So he hopped up, got tangled in the wires of the headphones, and ended up all twisted on the floor, wires everywhere, shouting out, "I'm okay! I'm okay!" Our sweet Bud, who forgets his backpack, folder, library book, milk tickets, his head if it weren't attached.

And has three women to keep him in line. Which means he'll never learn. (And might drive Sis to distraction before he does!)

We were pleased with all reports (no cute stories about Sis, though . . . not that she's not cute, but we spent the extra time talking about strategies for working with left-handed kids), about reading, writing, and . . . yes, you guessed it, arithmetic. But also about classroom behavior and social skills with peers. Which for me is more important. I know they'll learn to read and that most academic discrepancies equal out by 2nd or 3rd grade. I want them to learn how to listen to the teacher, follow directions, be kind to others, navigate the playground and snack tables and bus happily, respect all.

But we'll still be doing all that homework!

-=-=-=-=-=-

*That's Garrison Keillor on "Lake Wobegon," "where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and the children are above average."

Happy Birthday!

Happy, happy birthday to my little sister, Aunt Banana!

With a full-time, long nightshift nursing job and a baby-on-the-way in 3 weeks, I doubt you have much downtime but hope you get a chance to celebrate YOU!

Love from all of us . . . and some virtual cookies that we'll be making in your honor!

VOTE

Okay, so the polls are closed everywhere in CT but Bridgeport where they purchased something like 48,000 ballots less than needed. Bridgeport. A heavily Democratic city. Was a Republican in charge of placing the ballot order? (No, for the record, it was one of each. But the Republican chair did try to stop the polling extension, thereby threatening the disenfranchisement of all those Democratic voters. Of course.)

We took the kids with us to the polls on our way home from the city, explaining to them how it is our right and responsibility to vote. As our "we voted" sticker read, "I made freedom count."

The kids were intrigued, not least because we let them feed the ballot into the machine, "Did you vote for Obama? Did you vote for Obama's people?"

Of course, because we agree with what the NYTimes editorial board says here.

It's a wonderful freedom to live in a dark blue state. It's our right and responsibility to vote to keep it that way.

Someone's in the City with Mommy

We took advantage of the Election Day school holiday to take the kids into NYC today, first for my doctor's appointment and then for some fun. The doctor, who continues to be a supportive and good listener, confirmed after looking at all my x-rays and MRIs that I have trouble in my mid-thoracic because of scoliosis and the resultant bulging discs. There is almost nothing to be done about it because it is a hard spot to exercise and very dangerous to operate. So I am just supposed to keep walking to strengthen what I can. And take pain pills when it flares up. At least it was nothing new, right? Except there was something: bursitis. In my tail bone. Which is making it uncomfortable to sit those full 15-30 minutes I sometimes sit in a day when I drive the kids to school. It should get better on its own; if not, injections. I probably just sat funny, even just once. Great. I think I can safely say that I'm never going to sit again--just causes too much trouble.

The drive into town was stressful when Sis remembered that she'd forgotten Shirt at home, something we do regularly but it must have mattered more today. And she was hysterical. But eventually calmed down. Until Bud brought it up again. And he was obsessed with fire escapes--what were those ladders for? why did you need them? what happens if you can't get to the escape? And all I can picture are the Twin Towers. Soon, however, the still intriguing novelty of being in Manhattan took over and they were admiring the tall buildings and longing for a street-cart hot dog.

After my doctor's appointment, during which they played on their new Nintendo DSIs, bought specifically to distract them during the visit (that, and Mama wants them to be videogame literate, so it was on her list to do anyway), we went to the Met. Our main destination was the Kublai Khan exhibition, which didn't really interest them on the first viewing and disappointed me on this, my second (we'd seen it when we were early for my last doctor's appointment). The objects were rare and intriguing, though impenetrable, and the dense labels were not at all helpful explanations for laypeople (I'm more than a little familiar with Chinese art, Taoism, and Buddhism, and I found them impossible to comprehend. Shouldn't let curators write labels. Ever.). We did, however, really enjoy a small exhibition on Chinese birthday celebrations, including the imagery of the 7th-century (or was it 6th?) General Guo Ziyi's 80th birthday, dragon robes, and decorative arts with the symbol for longevity, cranes, and peaches. And they liked the Buddhas and Indian gods with several arms. Of course, we also visited Egypt, to see Sis's beloved "William" the blue hippo, and Arms and Armor (where she likes the Samurai helmet with the bunny). And, in American, the Versailles panorama and Frank Lloyd Wright room. But no Washington Crossing the Delaware yet. We saw Panini's Ancient Rome in the exhibition on Roman views and Bud immediately recognized that it was a painting of a museum (though an imaginary one with a hole in the roof). We spent some time in 19th-century European, particularly once Sis and Bud spotted the Van Goghs, recognizing the trees and the swirls from their study of MoMA's Starry Night. And they liked the dots of the Seurat (though not as much as the thick impasto of Van Gogh). Sis was also intrigued with Moreau's Oedipus and the Sphinx; Bud liked the story and asked me to retell it repeatedly, particularly the riddle part, which Sis actually guessed right off (though, I'm not sure at first that she knew why humans are the ones who walk on four legs in morning, two at midday, and three in the evening). Then, Sis wanted to see a Jackson Pollock and they both pondered--stared dumbfounded at--Autumn Rhythm. And in the room of Clyfford Stills (like the big red dog?), Sis said, "This is the room of paintings that don't look like something." Over and over, "why did they paint this, Mom?" We talked about how this is what artists wanted to paint after a long time of painting people and stories and landscapes. We talked about how the viewer helps decide what the paintings are about. We finally agreed that they were paintings about paint. Smarter than some of my Art Hist 101 kids, I say.

We did notice in the Temple of Dendur ("the building within a building") that the crocodile in the fountain was missing. For the rest of the visit and the drive home, we imagined where it could be, making up fantastical tales about him wandering the Met at night, befriending "William," and eventually escaping out a door left open during party clean-up (not that I'm saying that happens!). Then the crocodile wanders the city, meets dinosaurs and diorama animals out and about from AMNH, and can eventually be found all over the city and back at the Met, just in different rooms. But not in any of the ones we saw today.

So, head to the City and look for that crocodile . . . no telling where it will show up next!

It might even be worth sitting down for.

New Hobby?

I think I might take up a new hobby: sewing.

Sure, I can cross-stitch and hand quilt, under duress, and make pillows and the like on my little sewing machine, using skills form my intro to sewing in 8th grade Home Ec (Probably one of the last groups to actually take that class. And I was "Homemaker of the Year" in my grade! But like typing, it was some of the most useful stuff I took in high school.). But I can't make clothing. And I'm realizing that I'd very much like to be able to. I am so impressed by people who can sew, from my Aunt T's intricately pieced quilts and M.Q.'s three-fabric holiday pillowcases to the apron (and other pieces shown on her blog) made by Ms. Sew-and-Sow.

I want to be able to make Sis and Bud's Halloween costumes next year, regardless of what they choose. I mean, this year, I should've been able to make the Jedi and knight costumes. Just like my mom did, from my pink fairy princess dress to my pink pioneer/prairie dress, from my maroon and white pep squad outfit to my black and white clown costume. And my sister's authentic Gizmo from Gremlins costume.

And, I want to be able to make period garb, for the Renaissance festivals we go to, and particularly if I become a docent at an early American house and need a colonial costume (more on this if it happens, but it's in the works for spring).

But, those are very advanced. I better start with something easier. Any suggestions or advice? Maybe I can practice on Christmas presents for everyone . . . .

God and Jesus

"Where did you come from?" the neighbor boy asked Bud and Sis, as they ate lunch and I hovered inconspicuously, stirring something on the stove.

Oh, no. No discussions about sex and reproduction with a first grader and two kindergarteners at my house.

"Our mommy made us," came their reply. Whew. But I wasn't out of the woods yet.

"No, that's not true. My mommy didn't make me," the neighbor boy said to my kids, "God and Jesus did. They put me together with parts at church."

Okay, I think I'd rather talk about sex than God. My kids stared at him dumbfounded.

Thankfully, I know his mom and dad and their very liberal ideas on such matters (for instance, they didn't send him to CCD because they don't want him "infected" (their words) with Catholicism. And so I knew he wasn't getting this at home, but probably from the CCD kids at school), because then I said, "Well, not everyone believes that."

"Yes, they do. Because it's the truth."

"It's okay for you to believe that. And we respect your beliefs. But we believe something else."

"Well, you are the only one."

"No, we're not. We were at church this morning with a whole bunch of people who don't believe that."

And he stared at me as if I'd grown horns. Literally.

Sis kept insisting that she came from me, that plants come from seeds, that our brains and bodies evolved from monkeys, as the neighbor boy pressed his case. But my heart nearly stopped when Bud said that God had made his brain.

Now, as you know, I'm uncomfortable with God language, first because I don't actually believe in an omniscient, omnipresent, or omnipotent divinity and, second, because I am concerned about using the word "God" to refer to whatever natural, spiritual force I believe exists in the universe because it might be confused with the biblical God and all the theology that has been built up concerning him. But, I try to be open-minded and not reject out of hand my children's use of the term God, however they might understand it. But I'd be lying if I didn't have a knee-jerk reaction to Bud's statement.

I wished I had put more clearly what I do believe into words, both for the neighbor boy and for Sis and Bud, since I've read how important positive affirmations can be in faith formation. But I don't have my God-and-science-and-mythology-as-metaphors-created-by-humans-to-understand-the-world-around-us speech boiled down to the elementary school level yet. And that's not positive, exactly; it still doesn't answer how I do think the world works, which, frankly, I believe is completely beyond our scope of understanding, hence the metaphors.

Anyway, the kids went round and round and round, getting nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

But when the boy asked, "Where do toys come from?" and I said, "Santa Claus," Mama kicked me.

Let's not puncture all the myths. Especially because I like that one.

On the bright side, the boy's parents, whom I called immediately after they all headed outside to play, got a good laugh at it all. And Mama, who had just sworn off church the night before because she just doesn't enjoy weekly socializing, said she'd go back, if only to help our kids with answers to these kind of questions, no doubt the first of many.

Though, the questions are just as important, I think, as the answers.

Halloween Fun 2010: Halloween (At Last!)

After more than a week of celebrations, it was finally Halloween last night.

And we almost missed it!

See, after church, we had lunch, played with the neighbor boy (more on that next!), and then carved pumpkins. Bud and Sis had chosen their own pumpkins last week and got to carve them this week. They each designed the faces, helped sketch it in crayon on the pumpkins, were grossed out by removing the seeds and strings (though Sis did all of hers all by herself!), and then actually got to use the little serrated saw to cut the incisions (child-friendly saw with lots of adult supervision). They were so proud.

We had a Star Wars rest time and realized at 5 pm that we needed to eat dinner before "tricker treating" at 5:45 with said neighbor boy and friends. Oops, too much rest. Mama rushed to pick up burgers and we raced to locate warm underthings to wear with the costumes, as we were under a freeze warning for the night and it was windy. We packed water and flashlights in a backpack that would also be used to carry the candy that no longer fit in the pumpkins and raced at the door, barely taking pictures. Thankfully, Gommie let us call her on Skype later, after we'd gone tricker treating. I did manage the safety talk, mainly about watching for cars, since I've read in several places that poisoned candy is mainly an urban legend (or in-family, as it was when a man tried to kill his son with a Pixie Stix when I was a kid. We were not allowed to have those for years) and that child molestations are no more frequent on Halloween than any other day. Still, I doubt we'll be letting them out alone anytime soon . . . and we still check the candy.

And what fun we had! The kids are getting good--not shy at all--about accosting strangers for treats! Though, at several houses, ours included, there was only a bucket outside from which to grab some candy--because now, both parents go tricker treating unlike when and where I was a kid. I did return to the house when the kids' itinerary took them up hills, which are still too much for me to manage comfortably. And I enjoyed passing out some candy (and lying on the couch in between!). With 360 lollipops in the bag Mama bought, I urged everyone to take large handfuls. But we still have a ton leftover. Which I'm hoping to send to the troops once I find an address.

The kids were done tricker treating with their friends--Sis's favorite girl, Cleopatra, in flip-flops!, the neighbor boy as Darth Vader (luckily, he and Obi never got into it), and a few other miscellaneous current tv or video characters I didn't recognize--by about 7:30 and came home to examine literally pounds and pounds of candy. They traded back some of it for tickets, mostly the stuff with peanuts, which we then recycled in our own candy basket out on the front steps. We saw Gommie and Pop on the computer, talked to Ma and Gong, Goo, and wished Aunt Banana, busy at work, "happy Halloween." They ate a few pieces of candy, hopped around jovially, and crashed in bed by 8:30 something.

Whew. Thank heavens it's finally November!

Except Sis is ready to start celebrating Thanksgiving today . . . .

Halloween Fun 2010: Mischief Night

It's a custom up here in Connecticut, and apparently throughout the northeast, to wreak havoc the night before Halloween, known as "Mischief Night." Though, having lived up here for several years, I would have never known it was a special evening . . . no evidence of mischief has every appeared.

This year we made our own mischief on Saturday night, celebrating Halloween, yet again, at church with a potluck and a mummy-wrapping game. There were cupcakes galore and lots of little ones in costume. Bud was dressed as Obi-Wan Kenobi, whom we called "Obi" all weekend, and Sis went as a lady knight instead of a firefighter, vacillating between those two costumes. They mainly ran around with their friends, wishing, I think, that there were more organized games. Bud did play skittles several times, which involved spinning a top with a string to knock over several standing begs in different chambers of a huge game box. He really enjoyed that, once he got the hang of it with Mama's help.

I had kinda hoped people would dress up in costumes on Sunday for church, but even UUs think that is too much, I guess. I wore my orange jack o'lantern t-shirt but that was about it. Though, one of the congregants did bring his Darth Vader mask, much to Bud's excitement. So, I handed him my 'droid so he could use the lightsaber program; he ended up trying on the mask but declaring it too hot. Sis and Bud learned about Samhain (pronounced "saw-wain") and made brown sugar butter to serve with bread during coffee hour. I had hoped to spend some time commemorating those in our lives who have died but we got all wrapped up in candy and pumpkins and costumes that I forgot.

Maybe today, which would be fitting on All Saints Day, I think.

Good vs. Evil

We recently had a guest speaker at church who, as a professional peace mediator, had witnessed unspeakable crimes and suffering in such places as Kashmir and Sarajevo. But she could still speak of goodness and respect and hope.

She credited much of her ability to do her job to her Unitarian Universalist upbringing which encouraged her "to embrace the whole world with long and wide arms": to seek justice, respect differences, believe everyone had a voice. She said, however, that the UU church had not explained or prepared her for evil, since UUs don't believe in hell or the devil or original sin. But she has found that evil can exist where suffering, hardship, and inequality exist for generations so that people can no longer see or reach out in the kind of goodness elsewhere. Violence, degradation, oppression, are too overwhelming, too ingrained, and they answer in the same. This doesn't mean that people have no goodness, only that they believe their own survival requires what we would term evil. Her job is to try to acknowledge the suffering and search for common ground between adversaries: love of family, fear for children, need for food and shelter.

Sis said to me, when we were discussing how we should not ever make fun of the little girl on the spectrum at school, "No one would do that, Mom. It's not respect."

And I realized we were heading down the same UU path that the guest speaker had trod. With so much focus on respect, inherent worth and dignity, and being kind, we have neglected to prepare the kids for the fact that those are not everyone's core principles. Or that even in trying to follow those, that good people can otherwise do unacceptable things. Much less real evil. And so I said just that. That not everyone will treat them and others fairly or kindly or with respect. That they had to do their best to stand up for themselves and others when that happened. (And then tell an adult!) And, while I was glad that they couldn't really fathom that yet ("Mom, why did Anakin turn to the dark side?" over and over and over), I was nervous, too, that they were going to be completely unprepared.

I think we all will be. But like the guest speaker, I hope we can keep walking with our UU principles and find in them hope.

Fair vs. Equal

"Mom," Sis said, trying to understand "equator" during our discussion of the seasons last night on the ride home, "equal means fair."

Except when it doesn't.

The concepts of fair and equal, as well as the terms themselves, have popped up a lot in our house this week. And I heard, I believe for the first time, "It's not fair!"

Bud came home from school with a favor bag in celebration of a classmate's birthday. Sis is in another class.

Sis's class went out for recess. Bud's didn't.

Bud's class was one letter ahead in the alphabet and got homework first. Sis wanted homework, too.

And the biggest one of all: Sis is in a Daisy Scout troop. Bud isn't.

It's. Not. Fair.

And, heaven help me, I found myself saying, at least once, "Life isn't fair."

Except we try extremely hard to be fair. For us, fair means "free from bias, dishonesty, or injustice." It means not favoring one child over the other. Equal is "the same as." It's just hard to explain the difference to them. Fair means that we treat each child as an individual. Equal would mean we would treat them the same. Fair means that sometimes Bud or Sis get something the other one doesn't, especially out in the world. Equal would mean we would have to make up for how friends and school and others treat them differently. Fair means we try to keep it balanced over all. Equal would mean two of everything, even if they didn't really want or need it, except on principle

But that's not how they see it. As twins, they are very used to being together, doing the same things, and being treated identically (even though they are obviously fraternal); they are not used to any differences. And now, in school, in separate classes, they are having different experiences. And they don't recognize that this is because they are different people, with different interests, skills, and needs. Which is exactly why we separated them in school. But it is a steep and bumpy learning curve. And we as parents tread very carefully so that the competition, jealousy, sense of unfairness, etc. don't overwhelm them. Some sibling rivalry is natural and necessary to identity formation; too much is destructive, corrosive, exhausting to the relationship.

And so, in an attempt to be fair, we're trying to figure out how to balance Sis's Daisy Scout experience for Bud. Does he want mom-time? Friend time? Another activity? He can't even say, beyond "I'm angry and sad and I feel left out." Should we arrange for a one-on-one activity with one of us? Have playdates with school friends? Join a soccer or baseball or something team? No, none of that seems to suffice. "I want to be a Girl Scout." Or a Boy Scout, depending on the day. (To which we have to say, he can't be a Boy Scout because they are not nice to everyone. Definitely not fair or equal, that group.) And so, I am considering starting a new troop, a church club, with outings and activities and even badges. He's not completely jazzed yet--especially because Sis would come too, and it's church not school friends--but it's the best we can come up with right now. I know it's going to be a work-in-progress, both this particular incident, and the overall balance.

Because we do try, after all, to make life fair when it's not equal.

Halloween Fun 2010: The Haul

Mama's office always throws a nice party. Last night's annual "tricker treat" was no exception. Especially because, after four years of attending, the kids have the swing of things: they can spot bowls of candy on desks from 5 cubicles away! Thankfully, they've also mastered the actual "tricker treat" and even the thank you, plus only taking one piece of candy from each bowl proffered. Which might make us sound strict, but they probably stopped at 75 bowls and came home with large pumpkin-fulls of candy. Even so, most co-workers pressed handfuls of candy on them. Sis got good at finding the Tootsie Rolls and at avoiding peanut candies. They would even both stand still while we talked to the other adults instead of sprinting to the next bowl! And, for the first year, they weren't scared of anything, "Mom, decorations can't scare us!"

Sis was a firefighter, eschewing her oxygen mask and fire extinguisher this go-round but carrying her ax. Bud was a Jedi. Yes, I know, that wasn't his original plan. But he latched onto the idea so strongly that I went looking for and found an Obi-Wan Kenobi costume yesterday (and, to be fair, we offered Sis the option of adding to her costume, but she was happy). He was thrilled to wear the brown cloak and belt to hold his lightsaber. And everyone could easily identify him (and you should've heard the men--yes, mostly men--reliving their own childhood Star Wars fantasies!). And liked how they were both strong rescuer-types.

After almost 2 hours of trolling for candy, the kids were wiped and . . . so we thought it was a good idea to go for dinner! Barbecue at a crowded, loud restaurant. Perfect for overstimulated and exhausted kiddos. (And mommies who didn't want to cook!) Who nonetheless revived with brisket and ribs and were able to enjoy walking around outside in the dark, admiring stars and the river. And going for huge cupcakes for dessert.

On the way home, I regaled them with stories of my elementary-school carnival and trick-or-treating in the neighborhood. And, while I'd like to say they fell into a candy coma, they did not fall peacefully into slumber on the drive but did get to bed pretty much right when we got home.

So they can be ready for another party tonight!

Separation Anxiety

No, not the kids.

Me.

And not about the kids.

See, recently, it has become very clear to me that the kids have moved on from their toddler/preschool friends to their new kindergarten friends. When they were thinking of friends to invite to Applepalooza, they named kindergarten friends; same when they chose who to visit as the Phantom the other night. And when we were thinking about whom to BOO after being BOOed last night.

I think it must be the first time they've chosen their own friends and actually engaged with them independently. As toddlers and preschoolers, when we would have a playgroup, they would mostly play alongside, in parallel play, with the other kids, though mostly they played alone or together. Only recently have they really begun to interact with the playgroup friends . . . just when we see them less and less. But, until now, if asked to name a friend, they'd pretty much name each other.

Now they're naming friends I don't even know. Friends I'm not sure I want to be friends with. Because of course, up to now, their friendships have been dictated by my friendships, out of convenience. And I'm not ready to move on from my friends of the last five years. We have been through a lot together, know each other, like each other. And so it's strange that my kids don't think of my friends' children as friends anymore. I almost want to apologize. Because I know the separation will only increase and more preschool friends will be left behind: this year, it's Halloween treats; next year, it will be their birthday party.

Except I know I can remain friends with my "old" friends even as my kids move on, that I don't have to abandon them to make friends with these "new" moms just because my kids do (though, that said, I like some of these "new" moms, too). I've been trying to think about what concerns me the most: losing my cohesive and comfortable support group? finding out we only had the kids in common and weren't actually as close as I thought? missing my friends because we see them less? hurting my friends because we see them less? being rejected by the "new" moms at school? But who the kids play with is not about me anymore. I have less control and more uncertainty. And there is just more independence and separation.

Just one more way the kids are growing up, I guess.

And me too.

Pretty in Pink

There have been two days recently when the kids didn't have to follow the dress code: for picture day and for a dress-down fundraiser for Breast Cancer awareness.

And on both days, the schoolyard was a sea of pink!

Given the chance, everything Sis has on is pink. Just like almost all the girls in her school, it seems. And she was in rare form today, practically a-glow in pinkness. The teacher at drop-off even giggled to see the pink shirt, pink jeans, pink socks, and pink shoes.

All that was missing was a bow. Or a crown. But she doesn't do that. She likes her pink plain.

We tried to go the green-yellow-purple route for the kids, not locking them into gender-specific colors, but it doesn't seem to have mattered. At least it's her choice and makes her so happy. And I'm good with that. (Especially because it is only a favorite color, not an attitude or a lifestyle.)

In fact, I'm sorry she can't wear her favorite color to school everyday.

Though, neither one of us might like it as much then.

Halloween Fun 2010: Painting Pumpkins

Let the fun continue! We're in the heart of it now, with more preparations and activities than we ever see for Christmas, all crammed into a much smaller time frame, but without any of the stress, guilt, and pressure. Maybe that's why kids and adults seem to be crazier about Halloween than when I was a child (all supported, of course, by a variety of industries eager to encourage our holiday spending)--it's pretty much fun, pure and simple.

And there's more candy and costumes.

This week, the fun into flowed into the schools, where Halloween is generally verboten, because, you know, it's Satanic. Don't get me started on how silly that is. Strictly speaking, this was a pumpkin/harvest-type thing, free from all the usual devil-worshiping and witchcraft-laden activities of the traditional, Charlie Brown-type Halloween. I guess it's not Satanic if the pumpkins don't have eyes or a mouth. Sigh. Anyway, the kids painted pumpkins on t-shirts in school, with parents helping out with the stencils and outlining. No mouths or eyes, of course. I was in charge of the curling green vines. For both classes. I'm now a vine-curling expert! It was fun to watch the kids paint the shirts, even more fun to see them wear them tomorrow.

You know, for that generic, non-Halloween, pumpkin celebration that always coincidentally occurs at the end of October.

Do we really think we're fooling the evangelical Christians with that? Is their faith that susceptible? Or their reasoning that shallow?

Isn't it even more pagan to idolize a squash?

In the Mood

Okay, with 70F temps and a mosquito that bit me today, I'm not feeling fall much. But these pictures help.

Nerves of Kryptonite

Sis's, not mine.

She sat calmly as I ran to get the little scissors.

And she sat just as calmly as I cut the dead skin flaps from her big toe injury.

EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I told her she got a ticket for being so brave.

I want one, too!

The Other White Meat: It's What's For Dinner*

(*Yes, yes, I'm mixing up my meat council commercials.)

I'm making dinner, a new recipe for me, though Mama tried it out on the kids during my . . . convalescence? injury? month from hell? Anyway, it's pork and sweet potatoes and they loved it. I hope they do again. Hmmmm, should've thrown in some apples, too. Maybe I'll bake a few for dessert.

-=-=-=-=-=-=

Roast Pork with Bert's Sweet Potato Stripes

1 1/4 lb lean pork tenderloin

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon dried sage

1 teaspoon salt

6 medium sweet potatoes, peeled

Preheat oven to 450. Place pork on a rimmed baking sheet. In a small bowl, mix 1 tablespoon oil, garlic, and sage. Rub the garlic mixture all over the meat and sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt.

Cut each potato into 8 spears.

In a large bowl, toss potato spears in remaining 1 tablespoon oil and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Arrange potatoes in single layer on baking sheet.

Roast pork and potatoes for 15 minutes or until pork is 145F (cooking times will vary based on size of tenderloin). Remove pork and let stand 10 minutes before slicing. Use a spatula to turn over potatoes. Reduce oven to 400F and roast potatoes 5 more minutes or until tender.

Sesame Street's C is for Cooking

Halloween Fun 2010: The Phantom

You’ve Been BOOed!

The air is cool, it’s time for fall,

Soon Halloween will come to all

Ghosts and goblins, spooks galore,

Tricky witches at your door.

The spooks are after things to do,

In fact a spook brought this to you !!!

The treats that came with this short note,

Are yours to keep, enjoy them both.

The excitement comes when friends like you,

Will copy it & make it two,

We’ll all have smiles upon our faces,

No one will know who BOOed our places!

Just be sure that you don’t tell,

Keep it secret ,hide it well.

Please join the fun, the seasons here.

Just spread these “BOO’s” & Halloween cheer.

A few years ago, we were "BOOed" with a bag of treats left on the door step by a secret ghost, along with a sign saying "We've been BOOed" to hang on the door and the above poem explaining it all. Though they loved the stuff, the kids were pretty much too young to realize exactly what happened.

This year, the Phantom came to our door:

The Phantom is Back!

He travels from house to house and scares some you know.

But treats are his specialty, which in this bag it will show.

He stalks houses at night when it is very dark.

Then he leaves his special mark.

The names below are those who've received.

It's 3 new victim families whose treats you must leave.

24 hours is all you've got.

HURRY, HURRY, but don't get caught!!!

There was candy, a book, fake teeth, rubber balls, gliders, etc for two, over which they exclaimed all through dinner and bedtime and wake-up time, having me re-read the poem over and over. Though, they are still a bit confused about whether there is a real Phantom lurking in the neighborhood or if our friends brought us treats. But they're definitely excited by the visitor(s) last night. Especially because I was able to report that I thought I heard the Phantom(s) on the sidewalk giggling when I went outside to greet Mama. Only a few minutes later, the doorbell rang--but no one was there! They've talked of nothing else since, even at school where other kids apparently have been reporting being visited by the Phantom all week. And now it's our turn . . . . though, I suppose I shouldn't be publishing the whereabouts of the Phantom . . . .

Halloween Fun 2010: The Great Pumpkin

Can you name that vegetable?

I'll give you a hint: there's a nursery rhyme.

Yep, a Hubbard Squash.

Wanna know how to cut into one? See my friend at Bloodroot.

Yep, that's just what I'm going to do: drop a giant Hubbard squash on the ground and then use the insides to make something "pumpkin." Apparently, the orange flesh of these squash makes better pumpkin than any pumpkin.

We bought our squash, and a few pumpkins, this weekend at a local farm. Sis got a squat, round, deep orange one, while Bud's is more oblong and lighter in color. They'll each get to carve their pumpkins this coming weekend in advance of Halloween. We even have kids' carving kits, though no doubt Mama will be doing most of the work.

At least there will be some pepitas to eat as a reward afterwards.

And "pumpkin" for lunch.

Halloween Fun 2010: The First "Tricker Treat"

You know, it really does sound like "tricker treat." (At least the way I say it.)

Especially because in its current incarnation, there are no tricks, really, so Sis and Bud didn't realize they were offering door-openers an option. They understood the treat part but only recently inquired about "tricker." Now they're kinda interested in doing some tricks but aren't sure what those would be, thinking "magic" not cruel prank.

Anyway, the kids had their first of four opportunities to gather candy at a school function. When I was a kid, we had a Saturday school carnival, with games and a bake sale, which was my favorite elementary activity ever, even more than field day, and the kindergarteners would parade around in their costumes, which we were still allowed to wear to school then. Is it a coincidence that there is an increase in anti-Halloween fervor as Halloween itself has become increasingly focused on the gross, violent, and extremely dark nature of the human condition? There were decorations at the school party (which it should be said for the record was after school, optional, and organized by parents) that were definitely not G-rated. But the kids were thankfully oblivious to the rats-eating-fingers and lifelike decaying corpses in the presence of all that candy and the games with the plastic prizes.

The very cold wind sent us home earlier than expected, despite coats over costumes, Sis's as a firefighter in pink tights and skirt and Bud's as a "medieval jedi" in chain mail with a lightsaber. The kids didn't really care, though, because they had accomplished their mission. They got home with their loot, swapped candy (she loves Tootsie Rolls, he likes anything fruity, like Skittles), and then traded us the extra for tickets.

And they're thrilled that they have 3 more chances to get more candy . . . and I'm happy to get another chance to get the layering of the costumes right!!

Do The Baked Potato

I'm behind in posts by a few days and am working my ways backwards and forwards simultaneously. Which brings us to Thursday evening.

When Sis stubbed her toe.

It sounds innocuous enough, but it ripped open part of her nail bed and burst the surrounding tissue. Her big toe looks just like an overbaked potato. Yep, even down to the flap of white flesh. Gross, huh?

And we didn't even know she'd hurt herself in the first place. She was running down the sidewalk and her shoe went flying off. She was upset but got the shoe back on and basically proceeded home without hesitation. It was only when she got home that she apparently took off her shoe and started to scream. Bloody mess. Literally.

Mama Teacher was here and distracted Bud while I tried to clean up and figure out what was going on. And because it was after 5, Mama headed home and we decided to send Sis to the walk-in just in case . . . .

At home, Bud fretted about "what they were doing to Sis right now" as we played dress up ("Mom, you need to be fancy," he said. So I put on an old bridesmaid's gown) and danced around a homemade "harvest pole." He also drew a picture of the ordeal, with Sis's striped stocking feet splayed on the paper like the Wicked Witch of the West, her big toe colored in bright red.

Meanwhile, Sis was apparently a still and serious patient, sitting quietly while the doctor examined and very carefully cleaned the toe, which did not require stitches. Thankfully.

Mama and Sis were home around 7:30, with dinner in hand. Bud was very concerned about Sis and latched onto the new toe rules: no jumping, no running, no getting wet. He apparently spent the whole next day at school and on the bus telling people about her toe and trying to make her follow the rules, which she was quite capable of doing herself. It drove her mad. Especially because he gets upset if you mention his own experience of injuries. And she really didn't like his drawing.

Of course, I'd warned everyone via email, from the teacher to the nurse all the way up to the principal, because she would be breaking dress code in her sandal-y shoes. And then, I even checked in on her when I volunteered at the library on Friday morning.

I guess we've all been traumatized by previous injuries, though, obviously least of all, Sis, who ignored us all in stride and has been healing just fine, thank you very much.

Tiles

Someone in Bud's class had a birthday today and brought favor bags in honor of the occasion. And there was one of those tile games in the mix. Bud, who loves the game Rush Hour, where you move all the cars around to get one off the block, was immediately intrigued. And better than I ever was. He had 1-2-3 lined up while I was making lunch. Soon the 4-7 string. In fact, he got all the way to 10 before it was intractable. And then all the tiles burst out. I put them back, first in numerical order--because Mama told me there are orders that are unsolvable--and then mixed them up. He had the full run done in no time. And I can't even do the first line. Or Rubix's cubes, which are no doubt down the line . . . .

I'm a Nut for Applepalooza!

"I don't think we'll be having Applepalooza this year," I said to Mama Teacher about a week ago.

I should've known not to talk with the kids in the house. They have huge ears.

"Mom, we have to have Applepalooza!" Sis cried.

And Mama Teacher agreed.

So, it was a last-minute decision as far as parties go, with invitations only going out a week ago. Despite the lateness of it all, and then the little spitting showers throughout the day, we had a great time, with guests coming in three different waves so that the feel of the party changed throughout the day from boisterous to chatty to intimate. Mama Hungry and Mama Teacher did the lion's share of the work (thank you so much!), with the kids enthusiastically trying to help. And it all came together beautifully, with lots of apple foods and drinks and the traditional "Pin the Stem on the Apple" game. Our kids surprisingly played with the neighborhood kids, a first for one of our parties, where Sis and Bud usually hover around either a parent or the food table. Though, there was a lot of that too--Bud had two whole caramel apples and Sis downed at least two pieces of apple pie plus other treats! One of the best parts was when showers forced us all to duck into our little kitchen, carrying plates and platters of food with us, and we all stayed eating and chatting, crammed into the warm room where Mama was roasting nuts. The heavenly smell of roasted nuts and all those baked goods, plus the good cheer of friends, was perfect. As our friend Miss Mary remarked, when I commented after the rain passed that it was now a beautiful day, "It was beautiful before, too." And it was.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

More recipes to follow . . . .

Sweet ‘n Spice Glazed Nuts

3 cups pecan or walnut halves

1 cup sugar

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup orange juice

1 tablespoon vanilla

Mix together sugar, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg and salt. Put nuts and sugar mixture

in Nut Roaster Pan (I just know you can do this in a skillet); stir to mix. Combine orange juice and vanilla in measuring cup.

Add liquid to glaze/nut mixture in pan. See detailed instructions below.

Instructions for Use:

1. Spread nuts evenly in bottom of pan. Use whole almonds, pecan halves,

walnut halves, whole hazelnuts or whole cashews. For best results, use

3 cups or less of nuts.

2. Sprinkle dry glaze evenly on top of nuts.

3. Mix nuts and glaze together by turning handle on top of Nut Roaster.

4. Place pan on burner; turn burner to medium high heat.

5. Add liquid according to recipe directions, pouring evenly over the nut/

glaze mixture. Stir.

6. Glaze will quickly turn into a thick liquid; boil gently during cooking

process.

7. Stir contents slowly and continuously to keep glaze coating nuts at all

times until liquid evaporates and nuts are glazed (5 to 10 minutes). When

the liquid is evaporated and the stir handle becomes harder to turn, the

nuts are done. Do Not Overcook.

8. Remove pan from burner. Quickly sprinkle a little water over nuts (about

1 tablespoon per 2 cups nuts). Mixture will steam - keep hands away until

steam dissipates to prevent burns. Stir nuts to coat evenly with glaze.

9. Using a wooden spoon or spatula, immediately spread hot nuts on a nonstick

or wax-paper covered cookie sheet to cool. Gently separate nuts

with a wooden spoon. Nuts will be very hot – do not eat until cooled (even

though they smell delicious and you will fi nd it very diffi cult to resist!).

10. To store, be sure nuts are thoroughly cooled and then put in airtight containers.

Refrigerate to retain freshness or freeze for future use.

11. To reheat for serving:

a. Microwave: Spread 1/4 pound of glazed nuts on a fl at plate and cover

with paper towel. Heat on lowest power setting for 2 1/2 minutes,

rotating plate half-way through heating. Increase time to 3 1/2

minutes for 1/2 pound.

b. Conventional Oven: Preheat Oven to 250°. Spread 1/4 pound of

glazed nuts on a non-stick cookie sheet and cover with aluminum foil.

Heat at 250° for approximately 7 minutes; increase time to 10 minutes

for 1/2 pound.

Back to Basics Nut Roaster

"Phantom" For a Friend

Playing Phantom of the Opera today in honor of a friend's cat, Phantom, who is ill with cancer.

The Eternal Question

When I told the kids that, despite the fact that they were playing so well, they would need to clean up before church, Bud wondered, "Why is it messy if we're playing beautifully?"

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday, Uncle Soccer! May all your teams win . . . .

Electrifying!

With days getting shorter and light getting dimmer, but our activities not waning, the lack of outside lighting at our house has become an issue. Sure there are two street lamps on our property but that doesn't help the front porch and door, which can be very dark if we come home after sunset, which is more and more frequently.

So, we're finally putting in an outside sconce. And the bonus is we'll get a plug outside, too, Which means we can finally have Christmas lights!! We have the solar ones but they didn't work well on our shady property. It seems silly, but I'm so excited. But then, maybe that's because I won't be the one to hang them!

What Can One Little Person Do?

"What can one little person do? What can one little me or you do?

What can one little person do to help this world go 'round?
One can help another one, and together we can get the job done.
What can one little person do to help this world?"

--Sally Rogers

The kids learned a new song at church on Sunday as part of their Sunday School program on service. It's a catchy song, which they all sang as the adults wandered into the big hall for snacks and coffee. And the kids were wrapped in blankets. Simple fleece blankets they had tied together themselves. And, while I think most of the ties will have to be re-done, Sis and Bud were so proud of the blankets and of learning how to tie and so excited to help kids in need.

So proud and excited that we're going to make our own tied fleece blankets and donate them to Project Linus,

which distributes new blankets in order "to provide love, a sense of security, warmth and comfort to children who are seriously ill, traumatized, or otherwise in need."

If you're looking for something to do but crafts aren't your thing, check out Nicholas Kristof's timely post today on "How to Change the World."

A Tight Spot

Sis has new tights and long knee-highs, all in pink, to counterbalance the bland dress code of blues and browns at her school.

And Bud is green (and blue and purple and yellow) with envy because he just has regular, dull, short socks. He wants fancy socks. And he wants them long so he can still wear his shorts to school in the cool weather (which is what Sis can do now, wear her shorts and skirts).

But you know, I couldn't find boys' argyle socks at the store, even muted boring ones that he'd barely approve. Nor even plain solid-color knee-highs, like British public school boys always seem to be wearing in pictures. I gave in and bought navy girls' knee-highs and hope they'll work. Because I just can't put him in pink argyle tights. Internalized homophobia? Rigid gender-identity stereotypes? Fear for his happiness and safety? Maybe I should've gotten him a fun pair for home.

I'm hoping for snow and freezing temperatures, so they'll just both be happy in pants.

9 1/2 Weeks

(Actually, it's 10 tomorrow, but that's not as good a title!)

I'm realizing how much of a mind-game pain can be. I hurt less if I know why or if I'm expecting it (like that time of month, which is actually twice because ovulation sucks, too). Or if I'm totally concentrating on it. Or if I'm not. (Hey, maybe that's one more thing I have in common with elite athletes! See here on disassociation vs association in championship marathon runners and cyclists.)

And recently, that last one has become more and more the norm as my lower back just hasn't been bothering me as much.

Is it the fish oil? the 45-minutes of walking? the slow-release magnesium on those PMS days? the knowledge of what's going on?

Or just the fact that Mama has walked through the door?

Yes, that last one is absolutely true. My back is tighter at the end of the day, even on good days, but seems to release once she gets home. It might be because she steps in and does so much and I can relax a bit, but it might also be that love relieves pain.

School Marm

I'm not a soccer mom, but I otherwise fit the suburban mom stereotype in many ways: minivan, "mommy bun" (that half-pulled through ponytail), ready supply of bandaids and snacks, lunch repertoire of Annie's macaroni and cheese, coffee addiction, even this mommy blog. Now you can add one more thing: involved school parent.

Yep, I'm jumping into the the whole school volunteer thing.

Though, I am not that uber-suburban creature, the room mom, being unable to choose which room between the two (and even I'm not crazy enough to try for both!).

But I've got a little job with the PTA--I'm in charge of thank-you notes!--and I'm a library volunteer and a classroom reading volunteer. I've even volunteered on art projects and mystery reading! Which means, this week alone, I'll be at school at least twice.

And that doesn't even include the Girl Scout troop I'm co-leading for Sis! (More some other time on Bud and those dastardly, homophobic, theocratic Boy Scouts. I can hear you objecting already, Lambeth.).

I'm trying not to be overzealous, but I know I am. Like a puppy with a new chew toy, a kid in a candy store, a convert to a new religion. I send too much email, show up too early for events, sign up for everything I can, volunteer when anyone asks (and now once, even when someone didn't!). I'm like a college freshmen at the club fair or first day of classes, trying it all, looking for a good fit, trying to figure out what I like.

I just hope it doesn't take as long for me to calm down and settle in (or that I'm not as . . . . annoying?) as all of the above . . . .

Azul

The kids were doing their colors in Spanish today and could immediately identify the color of Mama's new car!

Yep, new car.

Safe, partial zero-emissions, 4-wheel drive. Moonroof and cd player.

Subaru.

After driving her cute little Civic for longer than we've been together (!), now she looks like a suburban mom, too!

But the Civic, "Jo" a la Little Women, to which she is strongly attached, is going to a good home, that of her brother.

Be nice to her, Goo!

As for us, we all took a ride this evening.

Now all she needs is a new rainbow bumper sticker!

(And a name for it: I'm voting for "Chessie," after the manatee who swam up to Rhode Island!)

Bud is from Alderaan, Sis is from Tatooine

That, I suppose, explains the differences!

Sleep Tight*

We had a slumber party here on Friday night.

The kids had been planning it with their friends on the bus for a week: s'mores, sleeping bags, flashlights, games, snacks, staying up late.

And so that's just what we did.

Except by ourselves.

Yep, we practiced having a sleepover because the kids are still too young to have a real one. In fact, when they were talking about going to a slumber party, they thought we would go too! "But, Mom, I can't sleep without you there!"

The party started when they got home midday, making it the longest slumber party ever! We had their favorite lunch, played in the house and the yard, had an early bubble bath, watched Star Wars for rest time, and then played with the new lightsabers I'd gotten just for the occasion. They ran around the house playing Star Wars. Sis is always Luke. Bud is Han. I'm Princess Leia. Mama is, well, either R2-D2 or a Jawa. She makes a great beep.

We put the kids to bed early, at 6 pm, so that they had plenty of time to play before "lights out" at 8:15 pm. They took up coloring books, other books, flashlights, and who-knows-what-else to pass the time. And for awhile we only heard happy squeaks and squeals.

But about an hour later, Sis came out, disappointed, "I don't know what to do anymore. What are we supposed to do?" And so she invited Mama and I to join them.

We brought Candy Land and a snack. What could be more fun: staying up late, eating after brushing AND upstairs, telling stories and signing songs, and hanging out with moms? Okay, sure, not every slumber partier would think that last one was cool, but it is when you're 5.

And 40!

-=-=-=-=-=-

*"Sleep tight," I have only recently learned, has nothing to do with rope beds, probably originated at the end of the 19th century, and most likely meant "sleep snugly." Go figure. I've been passing around the false etymology for years.

That Kid

You know how there is always that kid, the one who reveals the truth about Santa et al, the one who spreads the word early about sex?

I've found our current equivalent: the one who tells Bud and Sis that Darth Vader is Luke's father!

Feeling Naked

Taking the kids to school today, I felt naked without my phone. Not so much from a safety issue but just habit.

I'm worse than those toddlers addicted to their parents' iPhones!

Playing Against Type

The neighbor child, pretending to be Darth Vader, turned to Sis, saying, "You're the Princess."

"No."

"Yeah."

"No."

And she's not. She's Luke. Lightsaber and all.

Good Night Kiss

Last night, after that uneasy visit to school, as I said good night to Sis, she said, "Mom, next time you're at school, I'll won't just wave and say hi. I'll even give you a kiss!"

It's a rollercoaster, this mother-daughter thing!

Order Out of Chaos

They are rolling around on the floor giving each other everything they've got.

Until Sis pauses, "Okay, here's a new rule: no sleeves. You'll stretch my shirt." Or, Bud says, "Remember, heads are a point."

Self-policing, they have devised a system of points. They begin with 10 and, for each infraction, lose one. The one with the most points wins.

I hope the practice is as good as the theory.

Artists List

Answering Ms. Sew-and-Sow's challenge to name my favorite artists in 15 minutes, with no research, here we go, for today, in no particular order:

1. Johannes Vermeer
2. Eva Watson-Schutze
3. Maria Spartali Stillman
4. Nicholas Maes
5. Han Gan
6. Fra Filippo Lippi
7. John Everett Millais
8. Alice Austen
9. Clementina, Lady Hawarden
10. Bernini
11. Raphael
12. Thomas Cole
13. Camille Corot
14. Praxiteles
15. John Leech

(Bonus round, because I couldn't stop at 15:

1. Fragonard
2. Emma Stebbins
3. Tiffany
4. Mary Cassatt
5. Berthe Morisot
6. Kandinsky
7. Norman Rockwell
8. those quilters from Arkansas (?)
9. Kara Walker
10. Bill Viola
11. Charles Worth
12. Julia Margaret Cameron
13. Thiebaud
14. Frank Lloyd Wright
15. Plus those unnamed masters of Greek vase paintings, Gothic stained glass windows (ah, heck, those whole cathedrals!), Celtic stone crosses, stone circles (and crop circles!), the Chinese terracotta warriors, weavers (from Navajo rugs to Chinese silks to those fuzzy batik things from Turkey? that start with an I??. . . . okay, I'm just going to stop. Can't include everyone that is crossing my mind!

Your turn . . . .

OMG, I forgot Constable and Ruisdael and Brueghel (elder and younger) and Steinlein and Holbein and Copley and Charles Rennie Macintosh and Alma-Tadema and Gerome and and and and and

(I might just keep adding . . . . :) )

Sweet Whispers

Sis leaned towards me, almost conspiratorially, quickly moving my hair away from my ear, her soft little cheek brushing mine, as she very quietly whispered "Mom, what can we play just the two of us?"

After a morning of rejections, when she first waved to me excitedly and then ignored me, choosing a favorite little friend over me during a special parent day at school, this was sweet music indeed.

It was the best game of Curious George at the Beach I've ever played!

Homework Hell

The kids get a little packet of worksheets each week, with handwriting, counting, patterning, categorizing, cutting and gluing and coloring. Easy stuff.

And they complain, complain, complain. "I hate homework. It's so boring! I never like to glue. Why do we always have homework?"

I sit there, encouraging and debating. "Homework is just part of your job as a student. You need to do what the teacher says. You can do it!

Epiphany: when I'm not in the room dedicating myself to the homework cause, they seem to do it with little frustration, which I only noticed today.

So, from now on, I'll go over the directions when they need it, though it's all getting self-explanatory, familiar, and repetitive now, and otherwise occupy myself with something else nearby.