Gingerbread Prison

There are a lot of interesting things about 12-year old boys. I'm keeping a list, and this is the most recent.

It all started with my clever little plan of turning a 1-gingerbread house recipe into a 3-gingerbread house recipe so that each child would have their own house to decorate. I foolishly skipped the important step of creating a triangular shape on the tops of the walls to support the roof and ended up making an executive decision that this year's houses would be Adobe gingerbread houses. Flat roof. I was worried the kids would be disappointed, but they really took it in stride and got right to work. Nathan asked for the pretzel sticks immediately and set them as bars in the windows, announcing that his house was going to be a gingerbread prison. So sweet. "How does Santa get in to bring the inmates their gifts?"

"They don't get gifts. They have to stay back from the windows so they don't get shot. And there's barbed wire all around, so if they try to escape, they'll get cut up."

Fa-la-la-la-la....la-la-la-la.

After a while, we stopped asking questions about the prison because there was just no way to bring it back around to the happy topic of Christmas. He had a blast decorating and was very proud of his creation. So we chose to find it memorable and humorous. And it really is.

Here's Daniel's. His gingergread man is wearing mittens so he won't get too cold going out to get the firewood:

 And here's Stephanie's. About 20 minutes later, it was bare adobe again.

 Here they are creating their masterpieces:

And here's Nathan, meticulously setting the security measures in place in his holiday house of pain and suffering:

You just can't predict these moments.

Forensic Evidence (and some more tears)

Exhibit A. Hair. Stephanie's hair. Found disembodied on the family room floor. Clearly, a miniature crime had been committed. I'm not sure why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time to collect as much of the hair as possible and put it in a bag. So I did. And it's still in the bag. (What should I do with it? It's beautiful rich brown, curly hair. Yes. Natural curl.)

At the time of the crime, I was preparing to cut her hair myself. Well--trim it really. I had given the boys their haircuts the night before and she wanted her turn. So I set the kit down (did NOT know she could open it) and came back 5 minutes later. She was not there, but the hair was.

I tried not to show sadness. I didn't want her to feel TOO bad about it. I think she figured she could put it back on whenever she wanted, and when I looked sad, she started crying. So I told her she looked so pretty and I loved her hair. But really, how could I? She had given herself a mullet. A bad mullet. Wait... is there any other kind?

Just for context, here are a couple photos of her beautiful hair BEFORE the self-do:

See? Didn't I tell you? It was Bee-you-tiful! (Yes, I know. It will be again. But still... this cut came right before the visit of both sets of grandparents.)

And...here's the mullet:

And here's the result after a friend fixed it for us. I say "us" because it hurts me as much as it hurts Stephanie to have this hair gone. Probably more.

She's still pretty cute, though, isn't she? And the curl is still fabulous. Lucky little thing! Now she keeps saying things to me about her hair that let me know she's sad about it. She asked me later in the day of the fix-it cut, "Mommy? Can you see my hair? I can't see my hair." Another day, she told me, "Mommy, my hair is not working. It needs to go down." Then this morning she asked me for braids.

Clearly, this is my first girl. I can just feel some of you sneering about how idiotic it was for me to leave her alone with the kit. But I'm an amateur girl mom. I honestly didn't know. Still... I guess there's no use crying over cut hair.

Bloody Trail (and some tears)

      This was the sight that awaited me outside my bedroom door on Wednesday. Drops of blood in various sizes, along with a couple of blobs of some other unidentified liquid. The bloody trail continued down the stairs, so I followed it, wondering why there was no yelling coming from anywhere nearby. At the end of the trail was the cat, sitting under the kitchen table and trying to shake off the blood-soaked fur on his left cheek.

      Mako is a fighter. He defends his home territory and his beloved family with ferocity and great courage, but he does so without front claws. So he is also a loser. I'm guessing that, amongst the neighborhood animals, he is something of a joke. Another cat seeing him approach would be a bit nervous--he weighs 15 pounds and is "big-boned" (if one can use that term for a feline). But the moment the yowling turns into paw-batting and claw-striking, the other cat realizes Mako is an easy target. Let me take a moment here to say for any PETA people out there that we did not declaw him--he came to us that way.

      About a week before these photos were taken, Mako had been in yet another neighborhood brawl and had a good-sized puncture wound on the side of his face to show for it. We were "keeping an eye on it" to see that it healed properly. Translation: we didn't want to pay for a vet visit unless absolutely necessary. Nathan kept telling us Mako really needed to see a vet. And we assured him we had the situation well in hand. Monday, his cheek started to get swollen and I said, "If it's not better in a couple of days, I'll take him in." (Eric, I think, preferred to let Mako take the risk of infection and death, rather than go the vet route. Death of the cat is the ideal solution in his mind.)

     While I called the vet Wednesday morning (two days too late), Mako sat by the front door itching his face and waiting to be let out. When he rubbed his cheek with his paw, fresh blood splattered over the area. The photo below looks like it's from a crime scene.

       I wish I could have gotten a good photo BEFORE the vet visit and resulting clean-up, but I had to settle for just the AFTER photo, which is this one:

      The vet informed us that Mako's original wound had resulted in an abcess, which then swelled until it literally burst out the side of his face (because we didn't take him in when we should have). So now, for the tears... we had to pay for a vet visit that included his clean-up, an anti-biotic, a cream for the wound, and some kitty pain medication. Next time, we'll know better, I guess, right?

Happy November 1st

You can tell a lot about people from their garbage. Go ahead. Guess my weight. Just kidding.

What I love most about Halloween... wait... let me re-phrase that... what I love about Halloween... wait... one more try... the ONLY thing I really love about Halloween...is the candy. I do not get excited about any other aspect of Halloween. No, coming up with costumes doesn't thrill me. The mess of carving a pumpkin is something I dread (and skillfully avoid, by having Eric take charge of it--"But you're so much better at it than I am, Eric!") Trick-or-treating always seems like it will be fun, but then the youngest inevitably wants to be done before the other kids and is whining to be carried, the oldest wants to go it alone--where's the fun in that? And the poor middle child has a malfunctioning costume (once again), so he's walking like a penguin while his mummy bandages droop closer and closer to the ground. And then, of course, there's the sugar-induced mood swings, not to mention what the sugar does to the kids. :) But I sure do love all that free chocolate.

So it is with a substantial amount of sugar-induced glee that I say to you, "Happy November 1st!" Halloween is finally over and we can move on to the classier adornments of autumn.

Oh--and here are my adorable children, loving Halloween against my better judgment:

And here are their pumpkins:

The above is a mummy with crazy eyes, though it bears a resemblance to a sort of free-form artistic owl, in my opinion. Below is Nathan's, which he carved pretty much by himself.

2011 Halloween. Done. Check it off.

It starts...

Last night, when I heard a car pull up, I went to the front door to welcome Nathan back from scouts. I stood looking out through the storm door while he gathered his things and thanked his ride. He turned and smiled at me, but as he approached, his smile quickly faded and he started yelling to me, "Mom! Get down! Get down!"

I thought, "What does he think is going to happen? Are we going to be shot at? Is there someone lurking in the bushes?"

But then he said, "Why are you in your pajamas? That's so embarrassing! Get down! Don't let them see you! Oh my gosh!"

I, of course, started laughing and assured him that everyone has pajamas and these people had certainly seen them before. But he continued to shout commands at me and act as though I had a negligee on rather than just ordinary pajamas. I kept laughing, but I also started thinking back to those good times from my youth when my parents found new and creative ways to embarrass ME. You know, things like--making conversation with my friends, or wearing pants with an elastic waistband, or those funky glasses that change from regular to sunglasses as you go from inside to outside (now I think those are awesome). Nathan also recently informed me that my new pair of white Keds (that I LOVE) look like "old person shoes".

I'm reminded of a great Cosby routine where he talks about this very phenomenon with his own kids and says he had to drop his kids off at the corner because they "wouldn't want anyone to know they had parents!"

Nathan turns 12 next month. So I guess...it starts.

In Memoriam

Few things say, "It's going to be a great day!" like 12 dead tadpoles. Yes, that's right, we are officially down to 45 amphibians to raise. The price for all this glee is a few sad children. But I can live with that. I've tried to reassure them that it's not their fault and that tadpoles often don't live to adult froghood, while inwardly I'm celebrating and hoping soon to reclaim my tadpole-free life. I've grown weary of having containers of pond water on my kitchen island.

Our owl pellet lab went well. Once they got over the smell, the kids loved discovering all the tiny bones hidden in their pellets and then trying to identify the skulls. We were also able to clear up a few misunderstandings about owls. Some of the kids figured that since owls regurgitate these pellets, they must not have a "back door" for other waste products. Not so. They have a dual exhaust system.

Next Tuesday we will be dissecting earthworms. I wonder what extra rules I will have to create while we are using scalpels...

So this post is dedicated in loving memory to the creatures who, by being dead, allow us to have interesting science labs.

Last note. While writing this, I have been informed that we are now down to 44 tadpoles. So sad.

Hardy Little Devils

Zero down, 57 to go. Yep, they're ALL still alive. And I continue to waffle between stress over tadpoles not looking healthy and stress over none having died yet. Yesterday, we made an emergency pond water run because the pond water tadpoles looked listless (from what we could see of them through the murky water, which was the other indication we needed to take a trip to the creek).

We had our lab group on Tuesday and the kids were, of course, very excited to take home their little tadpole habitat. And we are happy to only have 3 habitats left in our care for now.

The lab went well and the kids are great. I introduced our "Lab Rules," of which there are were four. Simple, straightforward rules like--raise your hand, and follow instructions. After the first 5 minutes of lab, it was obvious I needed to add another rule: No pocketknives. I didn't see that one coming.

57 New Pets

I got these in the mail today. We now have 57 tadpoles. Hopefully I will not be writing in November about the 57 frogs we own. I ordered these for our first experiment in our Science Lab Group that I am running for homeschoolers this year. So when I say "pets", I really mean experimental lab animals. Mwaa-ha-ha-ha! Evil scientist laugh.

57 tadpoles. Aaaaacchhh! What was I thinking?! I hope I'm not in over my head.

I want Nathan to have the "classroom" experience again, even though he has school at home. This is the biggest reason behind my decision to teach a science lab to TWELVE kids. Yes, TWELVE! (Unrelated--have you ever noticed how, sometimes, when you type a word in all caps or type it a bunch of times, it no longer looks right to you? Twelve. Hmmm...is that how it's spelled?)

I wanted to start things off with a bang by doing a live specimen study. I hope it isn't a bang followed by a fizzle. But if these little guys don't survive until Tuesday 11:30am, this experiment will definitely be a fizzle. Tuesday is our lab, and we will be running an experiment over 6-10 weeks to test which type of water is the best growing environment for these tadpoles--spring, pond, or distilled.

On the one hand, I don't want the tadpoles to die, but I also don't want them ALL to make it to adulthood. Especially not the ones we personally are keeping. Alright. That's the intro. I'll be writing again soon. Let the obituaries begin.

Our Famiry...plus one

Last month, we disguised ourselves as a nice family with good manners and welcomed a Japanese middle-school student into our home for a week. Her name is Hikari and she is 15 years old. She had had 3 years of English in school, and, though we were impressed with her language skills, it was still quite difficult to communicate at times. But she was very sweet and we loved having her with us. (Side note: Please don't think I'm terrible for using the Japanese-accent way of spelling "family" in the title of this post. We find it very endearing and are sure we Americans make similar mistakes when trying to learn sounds in Japanese.)

We had prepared the kids for her visit by teaching them a bit about Japanese culture (what little we knew), but mostly focusing on the basics--manners. We are lacking in this category (again, see the post's title). They were excited for her visit and peppered us with questions on the drive over to the hotel where we would pick her up. We waited somewhat patiently for the bus to arrive, holding our little sign that we had made to welcome her.

When she finally arrived, we said our short greetings and hopped back in the car to drive home--just a few miles away.

Silence.

Never in the history of ever have my boys been so quiet in the car. I would have basked in that noiseless heaven if I hadn't been racking my brains for something to say to our guest. Anything. What else can I think of? She didn't understand the first few attempts I made. And why wouldn't that light ever change? We were never going to get home but be stuck in that awkward silence forever.

Okay. Yes, we did make it home. The boys couldn't stop staring and kept glancing sideways at us to see if we were staring too. She brought us a nice bunch of gifts to thank us for hosting her. Among these were an origami book and a box of origami paper. For a few weeks there, we were all addicted to origami. Evidence below.

There were, I think, 17 students in her group, each staying with a different host family, so as to ensure they used their Engrish skills. As a thank you to the host families, they held a "Japan Night" for us and fed us pizza and cookies and showed us some of their talents and culture. We had a blast! Our student was an excellent pianist (loves Jazz and also plays the sax) and so she and another student performed an awesome duet. The students also taught the American children a game that seems to be the Japanese equivalent of Red Light Green Light. As you can see in the photo below, Japanese teen-age fashion is as unique as American teen-age fashion.

Our cover (as a nice famiry with good manners) was blown very soon after Hikari's arrival by the many bodily noises my children made. For years, we have heard that burping is polite in Japanese culture, but I heard recently that the Japanese don't know how that particular rumor about them got started. In which case, we were extremely rude. Daniel produced a symphony of noises while Hikari was with us.

Speaking of manners...on the last night of Hikari's visit, she said she wanted to make some Japanese Miso soup for us. When it was ready, Stephanie was already seated at the table, hungry for dinner, so we let her get started on it while we called the boys to dinner. We all sat down and prepared for the blessing on the food, at which point, Stephanie stood up on her chair and loudly announced, "I DON'T like this SOUP!" Luckily, Hikari found it as funny as the rest of us did (Stephanie is a toddler, after all). The soup was actually quite delicious, but Daniel slowed down his intake when he found out that the green stuff was seaweed. And my intake slowed a bit when the communication barrier prevented us from learning the identity of some pale spongy rings floating in the soup.

Here is Hikari playing a duet in my living room, during the final evening of her stay.

And here she is with two friends who came over also. They were really nice kids. Again, that inexplicable fashion. Most of the shirts the kids wore had English words written in large letters. And they didn't always make sense to us. His shirt, for example, says, "PLAN AND FREEDOM DREAM." ??? Something seems to have gotten lost in translation there. Maybe it means--plan and dream freely? Anyway, the girl in the middle has a shirt that says, "Groove Joy". Our student, Hikari, is on the right.

We all really enjoyed having Hikari with us, but I think no one more than Daniel. One evening, when we had run out of things to say and things to do, I asked Hikari if she could think of anything she wanted to do. She asked if we had a Wii, which we do, so we did that. As we were getting started, Daniel began explaining how to do everything in very specific detail. When I could see it was slowing down our fun, I broke in to tell him that Nintendo is a Japanese company and she probably knew how to do it already. He was very skeptical of that until she whooped our tails at Mario Kart.

We were sad to see her go. Daniel cried when she left. He's so sweet. Luckily, her visit was closely followed by a very unexpected earthquake and then a hurricane, followed by the start of school and then 12-plus inches of rain in a few days, resulting in a day off school due to flooding. Never a dull moment.

Turn your wallet over to The Mouse

 My brother who lives in Florida has a saying--I don't know if it's his or just local--"Turn your wallet over to The Mouse." Meaning, obviously, that if you choose to spend time (and money) in Orlando, you might as well just put Mickey Mouse in charge of your wallet. There won't be much left when you leave. First, Epcot...

Don't ever buy these lollipops. Your children will be sticky for the rest of their lives.

Duffy the Disney Bear. Who? Apparently, Disney needed one more mascot. So they added Duffy. Duffy who? I don't know. But Stephanie loved him.

 

Hula-hooping in the America region at Epcot. It was very interesting to see how Disney summed up each country. America--hula-hoops and colonial architecture. Mexico--mariachi. Canada--moose. England--red phone booths. Germany--beer and cuckoo clocks. We had a blast and Disney is very family-friendly, but I would love for them to add Australia, Egypt, and Peru to name a few.

 

We used this phone booth to enter the Ministry of Magic. We went to Universal the next 2 days. Nathan talked me into going on a roller coaster called The Hulk, which turned out to be very fun, but mainly, we were there to go to Harry Potter World.

Now for a tour...if you haven't been to Harry Potter World, wait till you see how incredible it is!

Hogwarts castle is AMAZING! It is so much like what you see in the movies. We were completely WOW-ed. Inside is the main ride, which was really cool but also made me nauseous.

Professor Sprout's greenhouse. Pass through this while waiting in line for the ride. (You can also just walk through the castle.)

While hanging around the Hogwarts Express, we overheard the "Engineer" respond this way to a girl who asked where "the other Harry Potter ride" was. He said (in British accent), "Harry Potter's a person, love. He's not a ride."

  

The paintings are wonderful. Lots of them move and talk like in the books and movies yet they really look like paintings. The black ones above are the moving paintings--they don't show up in photos.

Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Holograms of Harry, Ron, and Hermione appear frequently at the top of the staircase and talk about the class. It was so easy to picture Gilderoy Lockhart coming down and talking about himself with his winning grin.

 

Entrance to Dumbledore's office. If only there was actually a moving staircase that opened when you said "Sherbet Lemon." Speaking of which, Honeyduke's sells Sherbet Lemons as well as many others, including Pepper Imps, which are yummy.

Dumbledore's office. So well done. There's a talking hologram of him also.

The Pensieve! Loved it!

                                              

The Three Broomsticks. I loved the design of this building. We ate there also. BUTTER BEER is the best thing!!! So tasty--like drinking a creamy butterscotch candy. Pear cider was also quite delicious.

Eric in Hogsmeade. Don't let the snow fool you--it certainly felt like Orlando in August. But I think the snow is a really nice touch.

There you have it! Crowded. Hot. Long lines here and there. Expensive. But SO MUCH FUN! We came home with wands for everyone except Eric, who said, "What would I do with it?" ??? Cast spells, of course! Play! Be a wizard! He's missing out. I bet he secretly wishes he spent the 30 bucks. What does he know, though? He washed his hair with lotion the two mornings we were in the hotel, till I pointed it out to him. He is a good man, though. He's still recovering from the injuries to his wallet. Obliviate!

Shapeshifters

Okay, T-minus 6 days to camp and I have to do something other than prep for camp or my brain is going to explode.

So here's what I want to share today. My children are shapeshifters. They are really quite amazingly talented. Some of their forms:

STEPHANIE: Easily shifts into her octopus form any time I try to buckle her into something (carseat, stroller, shopping cart). Suddenly, it's like she has tentacles swirling around, in and out of straps and latches, all moving in different directions.

DANIEL: Perhaps the most adept of my shapeshifters, whenever he is asked to do ANY kind of work or chore whatsoever, he instantly becomes roadkill. Squashed flat, not moving a muscle, you would think he was actually dead. We then have to scrape him up off the carpet and do CPR. He is also excellent at shifting into a laughing hyena, a Tasmanian Devil, and a sloth.

NATHAN: Takes the shape of a fly-on-the-wall daily. Wherever there is a conversation to be overheard, that boy is there, eavesdropping and plotting to use the information to his advantage. He is very stealthy. Also morphs into a crow regularly--finding and keeping shiny objects in his "nest" of a room. Any discarded little metal object can become a treasure.

Despite how it sounds, I love my shapeshifters. Do your children have this super-power?

Buried Alive

Help! I'm being buried alive!

I've been missing in action for quite awhile now. Every once in awhile, I try to come back here and post something--I have ideas all the time of things to write about. Just no time to do it. So I'm just here long enough to say that, after camp, I will re-surface. I serve as the stake YW camp director and this time of year is crazy. Fun. But crazy. Here's what my days are like:

• Planning for camp
• Emailing about camp
• Phone calls for camp
• Brainstorming for camp
• Shopping for camp
• Pretending I'm listening when other people talk about something other than camp
• Feeding my children
• Promising my children I will make it up to them after camp

Nearly every night, I tiptoe into the bedroom between 12 and 1am and try not to disturb Eric, who is sleeping (and usually snoring). Then I toss-and-turn for quite awhile, eventually fall asleep, and dream about...do I even have to say it? One of my recent dream episodes included all of the following: our camp T-shirts were neon orange (they are, in fact, royal blue); my asst. director and I had to share a queen-sized bed at camp--bizarre; and last, I dreamed we finished our clean-up of the camp an hour early and there were 150+ people crammed into a sauna-of-a-cabin looking at me and waiting for me to give them something to do.

Following my after-hours return to the bedroom (we're back in my real world now), Eric gets up at some ghastly hour (I think 4:30) and kisses me on the forehead before departing. The sad thing is, I'm usually mildly awake and stewing again by that time.

See you after CAMP!

Trusted Advisors

Isn't she lovely?

I wanted to start this post off with a clever little text phrase to show how clued-in I am, specifically this: IMHO. But then I realized I'm not sure if it means "In my HUMBLE opinion" or "In my HONEST opinion". I guess either one works, right? (Although, I tend to be more honest than humble.) Anyway...

IMHO, the most sound and relevant advice comes from our living prophets. But, occasionally, I also take advice from John Bytheway, my friend Stephanie, and even, drum roll please, my mother. Here's what I've taken to heart:

• Living prophets: Most recently, I'm taking advice from Elder Christofferson. In April, he counseled us "willingly to accept and even seek correction." Wow. Just accepting it is hard enough for me. Seeking it has been pretty much unheard of in my life. But I am taking his advice. Here's the link to his excellent talk.
• John Bytheway: Yep, I take advice from him too. And he says it's important to persevere. (I know lots of other great people have said this as well, but when he says it, it's also funny.) So we've been trying to help our children learn to persevere and do hard things. We rode our bikes to Daniel's baseball game yesterday, which was hard work for Daniel. He complained some and got tired, but we kept encouraging him and he felt so good when he did it. Great advice.
• My friend Stephanie: One of her best qualities is honesty. And when I told her one reason I don't like asking other people for favors is because then I will need to do a favor in return (see, I was honest too), she said, "Okay. You need to work on that." Not a bossy rebuke or judgment, just a simple statement of fact. (This ties in nicely with Elder Christofferson's talk about chastening and correction.) And she's right. I should work on that. Serving others and being served is a pretty essential thing.
• My mom (see photo): Yes, mom, I do sometimes take your advice. Much more often now than as a teenager. One of my mother's axioms is "Talk till it's better." I think we've all come to love and appreciate this (or at least tolerate it) in my mom. She will talk about something till the cows come home, the fat lady is singing, she's blue in the face, and all avenues have been explored. But she will NEVER go to bed or go away until whatever it is has been resolved. I had that experience recently also. When someone dear to me was upset with me, I took my mom's advice and stayed until things were worked out. It wasn't easy. But mom was right--that was the best way to do it.

Thank goodness for trusted advisors. Since I now know I'm supposed to seek correction, anyone else have something to tell me?

Houdini and the Water Bill

I could also title this post, "How to have a stressful vacation." While our spring break trip was good in many ways, it was not relaxing. Worrisome things were happening back at the homestead. I had asked my very kind and generous neighbor to care for our cat while we were away. I hated to ask her this favor, but I was out of options. We left on a Tuesday evening and I told my neighbor we would just make sure Mako (the cat) was inside with plenty of food before we left, which he was, and that way she wouldn't need to do anything for him until Wednesday morning.

See the photo above? That's what he was doing when we left. Several eyewitnesses saw him calmly bathing himself right before we closed the door and departed. All was well.

That night, right before I got into bed, I found a text from my neighbor saying that she had seen that Mako was on the front porch that evening, so she came over and took him inside. She had to carry him because he wouldn't go in. I read her text around 1:30am her time, so I couldn't call her to say, "That can't be Mako! He was inside when we left." There is another cat in the neighborhood that looks like him, so all night I had nightmares of this other cat hurting Mako (who is missing some key defensive weapons--front claws*) or WORSE, hurting my house--carpet, furniture, etc. Eric and I laughed about it, but still worried. A lot.

The next morning we texted back and forth and she sent me a photo labeled, "This is the cat I'm taking care of." It was definitely Mako. Whew! Felt better. But it's a mystery how he got out. Again...eyewitnesses. One of them pretty reliable.

Oh...and Mako also left cat waste products in the dining room for my neighbor to clean up. Three times. So thoughtful of him. Eric is hoping he has a short life span.

Two days later, another text from my neighbor. She had discovered our water was on outside in the backyard, along with the river it had created, and wanted to warn me that the water bill might be scary. It was, in fact, most frightening. $250!!! And we don't even know who to yell at. Of course, both the boys assure us it was not them. Naturally.

Those hidden costs of vacation can really get you.

*Just FYI, we did not de-claw Mako, he came to us that way. Though, I think Eric is considering yanking out the back claws now as well.

Ambush

Every time we travel by air, I practice the art of ambush. We have just returned from our spring break trip, during which, once again, I had to use these skills.

We boarded the plane early in the processional, right after the announcement for those traveling with small children to come forward. We made our way down the skinny aisle to our scattered assigned seats--all five of us separated from one another. I sent Daniel to one seat, Nathan to another, and Eric sat down in yet another and put Stephanie on his lap for the moment. Then I stood next to him near the aisle, waiting to ambush the unsuspecting passenger assigned to seat 14B. As well as the passenger in 15B. And 15C. Hoping to trade...

Of course, it's not usually too hard to find some takers. Especially if you hand them a few diapers, wipes, and noise-making toys and give them the option of staying in their assigned seat next to your 2-year-old. But I just think, if I'm the one making seating arrangements for the flight, shouldn't I at least get a discount?

On one of our flights, I sealed the deal for our last needed seating change with this question: "Would you like to have a lovely child-free seat right over there?"  The nice man quickly agreed and went off to what I can only assume was a very quiet and restful flight. I was a wee bit jealous, in fact.

Top Secrets

From what I can tell, the number one goal of many Americans is having a "flat belly". (That, and lowering car insurance.) And the way to get the flat belly always seems to be the latest "simple trick".

Forgive me, but this particular goal hardly seems worthy of all the attention given to it. Don't get me wrong, I think it's important to be healthy and fit, but that won't always lead to a flat belly. Nor is physical activity the suggested method for getting said belly. After signing the family up for another year's membership at our community's fitness center, Eric said, "Too bad we can't get in shape just by paying the fee." Wouldn't that be great? "Okay! We've forked over the money. In one year, we should be all trim and fit."

There are some other topics for which I would love to know the top secrets. For example:

One simple trick for...

• helping your kids to get along with each other
• soundproofing a room
• maintaining your patience in the midst of noise and chaos
• encouraging gratitude in your children

I'm pretty sure all the answers are somewhere in the scriptures (with the exception of soundproofing), but sometimes I have a hard time seeing what's right before my eyes. Time to get out the magnifying glass. (I can read up on these while I'm working on that flat belly.)

Wit & Wisdom

Today I tried another fun little quiz with my boys. The idea of doing this again came to me during our New Testament scripture study last night. When Eric said we were going to be reading about Cornelius, Nathan said, "Cornelius Fudge?" and Daniel said, "Cornelia Augusta?" (she is a cute little character in a picture book called The Day It Rained Hearts). Their answers are gems--sometimes of humor, sometimes great wisdom. Asking the questions also helps me to see where the gaps are in their knowledge of the gospel so we can be more effective teachers.

With Nathan, I asked him who various (and sometimes lesser-known) people in the scriptures were and then asked him some gospel-related questions. Here are his most amusing and insightful responses.

Who was/were--
(I would say the name and wait for his response)
GOLIATH:  "A soldier who was a little too big."
METHUSELAH:  "Wait--Medusa?"
ISHMAEL:  "Ishmael...Ishmael...I'm guessing that he was a male, but other than that I don't know anything. Wait...Ishmael was a girl, right?"
ESTHER:  "Esther was a girl who was born on Easter."
CAIN & ABEL:  "Wasn't Abel a monkey?"
ZORAM:  "Hmmm....he sounds powerful."

Questions--
What does a prophet do?
"They pray about what they should talk about in General Conference and Jesus and Heavenly Father tell them what they should talk about and how it can change people's lives. It's unlikely, but sometimes it's for just one person in the entire world."
What is the priesthood?
"Power and authority from God that allows us to heal people, to bless the sacrament and pass the sacrament."
What do we do in temples?
"We baptize for the dead, we get married, we get sealed to our family so we can live together forever."
Where is Jerusalem?
"In Europe somewhere. Wait! It's...um...on the right of Spain."

With Daniel, the scripture people questions didn't really work, so I just asked general gospel questions. Here are his delightful responses!

What is a prophet?
"A person who is called by God to be the person who leads General Conference and gives speeches."  (Note: For weeks leading up to Gen. Conf., Daniel has been praying "Bless the prophets on their speeches." Very sweet.)
Who is the Holy Ghost?
"Kind of like a spirit that comforts you when you're scared or sad or maybe even when you're mad. If you're a really good person the Holy Ghost will come to you and come inside of you and comfort you and help you. And he whispers instead of talking loud."
What is a testimony?
"When you know about something that is true."
Where is Jerusalem?
"Close to Africa in the state of Asia."
Tell me something about Joseph Smith.
"First prophet. He was getting sick in his leg, so his mom called the doctor and the doctor came right away. And I think he lived in a log cabin. And the doctor came and said he had to cut off his leg."
What is the priesthood?
"It helps the sick and you have to have a prayer when you're putting one little tiny drop of oil on someone's head. It's kind of like a power of the Lord."
What do we do in the temple?
"We worship God and we can pray there."
What does it mean to get sealed in the temple?
"When you get married and you get sealed it's almost like you get tied together with a rope and you never leave each other. And when you die, you're still together."

That seemed like a good note to end on, so I stopped at that point. And I guess it's a good place to stop now as well.

More Mother of Invention

Remember how I have always wanted to be an inventor? Most of my "invention" ideas are really just innovations, though. Here are two more to add to my previous list.

• Cereal Bag Strainer: You know all that fluffy cereal dust that hangs around the bottom of the bag until whoever eats the last bowl of cereal gets it dumped on top of their breakfast? Yeah--see photo above. Well, I really don't like to be that person. So I was thinking, wouldn't it be great if the cereal bag came ready-made with the right size slits or little holes in the bottom? That way, all the fluffy dust would settle on the box bottom, outside the bag, and you would just remove the bag to pour out the remaining cereal! Ta-da! They could even put a strip of adhesive over the bottom of the bag so the cereal would stay fresh until you removed the strip. Okay, I know. This doesn't really fall into the "necessity is the mother of invention" category, but still...it would be nice. (I may try this with scissors...)


• Medicine Cups: Those little teaspoon measuring cups that come with children's medications always get gross, sticky, lost, or broken so quickly. Wouldn't it be perfect if the manufacturer of those little bathroom-size paper or plastic cups starting printing little measurement lines on the inside or outside of the cups? Then you could just use those cups for multiple purposes. Brilliant? Maybe, maybe not, but it would make life a teensy bit easier. It's the little things.

Daylight Savings Time: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

GOOD: I love the extra daylight in the evening! It's very invigorating.

BAD: I foolishly chose this week to begin a new calisthenics regimen created by my friend. Not only am I embarrassingly out of shape, but it feels like it's even earlier when I'm attempting this regimen.

UGLY: The kids haven't fully adjusted to the new time yet, so I'm dragging them along every morning. They're having to get dressed in such a hurry that I've established a "Don't ask, don't tell" policy on dirty underwear. All year, until now, I've made it a habit to ask the boys, especially Daniel, if they had put on fresh underwear when they got dressed in the morning. And I would use my piercing, all-seeing, motherly eyes to stare into their souls and discern whether I was hearing the truth. Now, with 30 seconds till the bus arrives, I've decided it's best just not to ask. Unless I can smell him from a distance.

The House is Bugged

I painted this rock ladybug at girls camp a few years ago. Whichever boy I gave it to quickly forgot about it and moved on. It's now most often seen being carried around by Stephanie who has developed a sincere devotion to bugs. No, I didn't say "fascination" or "interest" or even "fear". Sincere devotion.

She points out the bugs in all the pictures in her story books, she finds bugs and claims them as her own, she tortures them with her love.

But her most devoted moment was during Family Home Evening the week before last. Halfway through the lesson, she ceased her usual disruptive behavior to turn her attention (and demand everyone else's) to a tiny winged insect near the front door. She stood underneath it for the rest of the lesson, saying at intervals, "Buggie!" or "MY buggie!" or "Daddy, go get my buggie." We finished our evening with a closing song--Love One Another with the sign-language actions. Stephanie stood right under the buggie's location on the door frame, cocked her head at a 90 degree angle, and serenaded her buggie through the whole song. Wish we would have video-taped it. Sincere devotion.

Some Enchanted Evening

Once upon a time, a romantic evening went something like this:

Candlelit dinner for two, followed by a walk in the moonlight and some variety of fancy chocolate dessert. Really romantic would have included flowers and semi-formal attire. But gone are the days of sparkling cider and roses.

Last night, Eric and I had an impromptu date at the kitchen table after the kids went to bed. It went something like this:

We brushed the crumbs out of the way (he actually popped one in his mouth--pink cake), then we talked about the day and ended up taking turns quoting Stephanie's current favorite bedtime story verbatim.

Eric--"This is Gossie. Gossie is a gosling."
Me--"A small yellow gosling who likes to wear bright red boots."
Together--"Every day." Laugh!

We finished by deciding we were both hungry and so we poured ourselves some cereal and kept talking.

And this morning, I thought to myself, "That was just as good a date as going to a fancy restaurant." We laughed and talked about our kids and just relaxed. Of course, there are times we really need to go out and be away from the house and the kids. But staying in can be great, too. I was happy to realize I don't even mind that our dancing shoes, bouquets, and truffles have been replaced by rubber duckies, rhyming books, and marshmallows. And when we want to dance, he can grab my hand and say, "They're playing our Primary song."

Deciphering Boys: Entrepreneurship-Part 2

We don't have a money tree. We don't even have any money tree seeds. But we do have a money BOY. He is always coming up with creative ways to make money. I thought it would be fun to tell about his most recent scheme using pictographs. So here's an article from my personal magazine: Motherhood Illustrated.

Green beans for dinner.

Daniel hates them with all the passion he can harness. They are FORBIDDEN. "I'm NOT eating them!"

Nathan has an idea! A green paper kind of idea. "I'll eat your green beans if you pay me a dollar. Then you can still have a treat." Daniel readily accepts this plan.

Me: (like my boots?)

"Umm....no. You can't pay Nathan to be healthy for you."

Kids these days. Money, money, money.