"Curious George Visits the Firehouse"

On Thursday, I had the privilege of attending Hannah's Speech & Drama presentation for the quarter. It's not the first time I've been up to the middle school this year, but it was a little bit heartwrenching for me. We've known a few of Hannah's classmates since they were this size:

And we've known a great deal of them since kindergarten, when they were this size:

And now, they are disturbingly tall (the girls, anyway), disturbingly attired (and I don't just refer to the boys' droopy pants, but also the girls' more ... mature ... trends in clothing), and disturbingly capable, like this:

I told Hannah--and sincerely meant it--that their play was exceptionally well done. They wrote, practiced, and acted it themselves. It was very funny, and all said their lines well and projected their voices. Hannah, as you might be able to see, was The Grey Puppy, and had some very profound lines, including, "Yip, yip, yip!" I know, a starlet in the making!

Where was Sariah during all of this? you might ask. Well, she just made herself at home with one of Hannah's friends since kindergarten. He seriously kept her entertained throughout Hannah's presentation so I could take pictures.
He's a good kid, and always has been. They all are. Just remind me that I think that from time to time.

Which One Doesn't Belong?

I thought she was happy. Until I reviewed the pictures.

Rexisms, Overheard

Rexisms are what I call Rex's particular and peculiar observations on life, as well as his entertaining comments.

Mom: Rex go to your bed. You were hurting Caleb, and you didn't stop when he told you so.
Rex: I didn't hear him, Mom!!
Mom: Go!
Rex: But I didn't hear him!!!
Mom: Bull!
Rex: [sobbing] Mom, I'm not a bull!


Rex: I can tell you why a trapezoid is called a trapezoid.
Mom: Ok, shoot.
Rex: Well, it's all about a jail, and it's called a Zoid Trap, and it kills people.

Now you know. Enjoy!

Addendum: In Rex's Defense

I did wander up to the school this morning to peruse the lost and found. Ok, so only 1 of his sweatshirts was there, and it did look like it had just been put there recently. 1 down, 3 (or is it 4?) more to go. Where, oh where shall we look next? I know you have ideas. The doghouse? (No lie on that one. We've found things before. And Junebug didn't put them there.) Under the bed? Under the backseat of the van?

The Rant

I just need a few minutes here to vent. And all my ventees are unavailable, so now I'll inflict it on the public at large.

So, all of these years that my kids have been in school, we've never lost a coat, jacket, or sweatshirt. Sure, they might have been temporarily located in the lost and found, but ultimately, the involved child and I had words, and the article of clothing was retrieved and returned home.

But now, now Rex is in school. What does that mean? you might ask. Well, first, Rex is completely oblivious to temperature changes until they are extreme. This is not his fault; I truly believe that it has to do with his sensory integration issues...his nerve system is just wired somewhat differently than the rest of ours, and he either doesn't register things the way the rest of us would, or he over-registers them (I don't know which is worse). And second, Rex has a sometimes-amusing, sometimes-exasperating superfaith in his own knowledge that he clearly knows more than his mom or dad.

How this translates is thus: basically, when Mom or his teacher at school tells him that the weather is chilly enough for a sweatshirt, he first argues that he doesn't need one; second agrees to take it just to end the conversation (a normal kid tactic, I'd say); but it's the 3rd step in this process that's the kicker...third, he loses the offending article of clothing.

So, this morning when the wind chill is down in the 30s for the first time this fall, he has no sweatshirts or jackets to take to school for his field trip to a local "farm." They're going to be out-of-doors all day. Now, as a parenting-with-love-and-logic kind of parent, I'd say he could just go on the field trip without, and suffer the consequences, darn it, if he completely "forgets" every day to go to the lost and found and locate his clothing (which, btw, even if he went, he wouldn't find anything even if it were staring him in the face). However, I do have my pride as a mother...especially when it comes to being the mother of 5, which means that lots of times people are judging you and the "fact" that you allegedly don't take as good of care as the last kiddos as you did the first, which means that you don't love them as well (please don't try to deny this; perhaps I'm a very judgmental person; but really, how do you think I know people are thinking things like this?). I do have my pride as a mother, you know. Oh, I said that already.

So, I sent Rex off to school this morning with one of Caleb's sweatshirts, and the dire threat that if he lost this sweatshirt, he would have to pay Caleb $20 for it. Poor kid, he had a complete breakdown, because currently he only has $1. So, then I told him that he would have to work for Caleb by being his slave until the sweatshirt was paid for, theoretically of course.

Gee, I must wonder at this point, how this is going to come back to me when I next talk to his teacher.

Ok, done venting now. Thanks! :)

St. Louis

At long last, there has been a coming-together of miraculous events. First, the correct software is now acceptably installed on my rebuilt computer. Alas, it was never the software's problem. It was the computer. Second, all of my children are asleep. After two hours of Halloween costume shopping with the oldest, and after four hours of 4th-grade-travel-brochure-project-making with Elisabeth. And third, I am finally coherent enough (relatively speaking, anyway) to put together the travelogue of my husband and eldest son's recent journeyings.

Now, on to the boys' trip. Bob and Caleb went two weekends ago to see the church history sites around Nauvoo, as well as the Arch and the Zoo. They flew into St. Louis, Missouri, stayed in a hotel in Iowa, and Nauvoo's in Illinois. And not a single spoon did they bring me back, and I might add, I don't have a spoon from Iowa or Missouri.

When they returned, they brought back a Nauvoo brick, some rope which they had made, a tiny horsehoe, some acorns, and about three hundred pictures. For four days! Not that I could really do the good-mother/wife thing and admire all of their trophies, since I was still somewhat sick...and really grumpy. But that's beside the point.

Tonight, I sat down and really looked at their pics with my new software. Truly, a male point of view is reflected therein, as you will see.

We've got predators.

We've got weapons.

And we've got vehicles.










And let us not forget this one last means of transportation. Bob swears it was truly life threatening. The ox (allegedly) was determined to have at him with his horn, which is why Bob is manfully restraining him. And see my brave boy there on the right--he's not even afraid of such stubborn, malicious animals! Why, my son's even so relaxed, he's got a hand in his pocket!

Ok, to be fair to my menfolk: they did bring me home some pictures of flowers (why don't things bloom like this here in Oklahoma? we're not that far from Illinois)....
And they brought me some pictures of dishes...
Apparently, these are Lucy Mack Smith's china dishes, that survived all the moving around and traveling hither and yon in the days of jolting wagons and no styrofoam peanuts. So, I ask of you, how is it that my Corelle-wear can't make it from one side of my kitchen to the other intact?

Now here's what I'm talkin' about--my kind of dishes!

Ok, you're right. I have indeed saved all of my favorite pictures, as well as my kinder captions, for tomorrow. Until then....

A Giggly Gentleman

Rex had Elisabeth rolling on the floor laughing tonight. When we got home from church, I instructed the children to bring everything in from the car. This meant that Rex was carrying his scriptures, his papers, his socks, and his shoes ... which obviously were not on his feet ... which just made me remember his comments in the car:

Rex: Mom?
Mom: Yes?
Rex: My feet are really smelly. [I should here note that at this point in time, his feet were actually in his shoes, minus the socks.] My feet are really smelly, Mom. So when we get home, can I wash them off with the hose in the front yard, you know, when we get home? I don't want them to be smelly anymore. [I should here further note that by this time, he was talking to me with his bare toes firmly attached to the tip of his nose ... or so it appeared in the van's rearview mirror, anyway.]

But I digress. Rex was hauling all of his belongings up to the front door which then apparently snapped shut right behind Elisabeth and in the face of Rex's poor overburdened arms full of stuff.

Rex then felt compelled to yell at his sister, "Elisabeth!!! You're not being a gentleman! You're supposed to hold the door open!!!!"

I haven't heard Elisabeth giggle that much in a very long while. She always has been a connoisseur of a good logical twist of language.

Bob's an Emmett

See what happens when I'm supposed to be takin' it easy?

Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

Quizzier

Now here's a quiz I came across that I know my most faithful readers will appreciate. Cool, eh? Who are you?

Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

And for you guys, because I just know you're dying to do your own quiz, click here. But because I like quizzes so much, I did this one, too. I'm seeing a pattern, though....

Take the Quiz and Share Your Results!

To Staci

I could have just answered with a comment, but that wouldn't be any fun. I'd rather broadcast all my woes to everyone. ; )

Have no fears about staring at my blog all you want. Anybody here in Norman just comes on as Norman Oklahoma. I just thought it was me staring at my blog all the time. I do that, you know, because having a B.A. in English, I have to spend a good deal of my time agonizing over how I could have written my blog better for my 5 faithful readers. So see? You can stalk me anonymously all you want.

As to being sick ... I guess I just have the stomach flu. Gastroenteritis, the 10-14 day kind, according to my P.A. OR, according to the 2nd ER doc, it's that parasite they found at the SplashPad in September. Whatever it is, it came on the heels of my laparoscopy, so my immune system was already working overtime and got overwhelmed. It's bad stuff in any case. Even taking anti-nausea meds (which knock me out even better than Benadryl, by the way), I can't get enough water in me to stay out of the ER. Ugh.

But I have had a true saint to take care of me. My mom showed up last Monday morning and stayed until yesterday morning. What a lifesaver. She took care of me, and all five of my kids, and did all my laundry, and cleaned my whole house ... if it were me, I would be in bed for a week after all that.

Anyhow, hopefully I'm on the mend. Only 2 more days until they start running more tests, so I'd better recover soon ... no more needle pricks. They don't always bother me, but I'm getting pretty tired of them. I'd be a mess if I was really sick with something that they had to prick you all the time.

And on that happy note, I'll sign off. Cheers!

Quizzy

So, along with Melessa and Tiffany, I love these little quiz things. Always have. I think it's the whole reason I subscribed to Seventeen when I was a teenager.

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are an Ingrid!

You are an Ingrid -- "I am unique"

Ingrids have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.


• * Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself.


• * Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.


• * Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.


• * Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting!

What I Like About Being an Ingrid

• * my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level


• * my ability to establish warm connections with people


• * admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life


• * my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor


• * being unique and being seen as unique by others


• * having aesthetic sensibilities


• * being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What's Hard About Being an Ingrid

• * experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair


• * feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved


• * feeling guilty when I disappoint people


• * feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me


• * expecting too much from myself and life


• * fearing being abandoned


• * obsessing over resentments


• * longing for what I don't have

Ingrids as Children Often

• * have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games


• * are very sensitive


• * feel that they don't fit in


• * believe they are missing something that other people have


• * attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.


• * become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood


• * feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce)

Ingrids as Parents

• * help their children become who they really are


• * support their children's creativity and originality


• * are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings


• * are sometimes overly critical or overly protective


• * are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at HelloQuizzy

Survival, Part 2

One urgent care center visit and 2 ER visits later (all for dehydration), I'm still here. Barely.

In recent years, our hospital has started asking a new set of questions when they admit you. It's the Depression Questions, which most of you will know, I find amusing to begin with, since I take depression medication. I really do think that it's great that they ask these questions. I'm all for people getting their depression treated and under control, if they have it. Living with depression is its own nightmare, and I am a firm believer in whatever appropriate treatment works for each individual.

You will also remember that I have to handle my depression with a little bit of humor. So my disclaimer now is that I am not denigrating the hospital's Depression Mission, just finding some humor in it. If I didn't, I would have to sit down and cry and probably never stop.

"Are you or have you ever been depressed?" That's an easy enough question for me to answer, although I suspect that 5 years ago, I would have lied through my teeth to answer it "right."

The next ones (and please forgive my paraphrasing, I was pretty out of it when they asked me), however, gave me great cause for amusement ... or it would have, anyway, had my head not been about to spin off my shoulders. "Do you feel like harming yourself in any way? Do you have any thoughts of killing yourself?" This is a proper technique for addressing suicide, by the way ... but do they really ask these questions of people coming to the emergency room? I mean, come on.

They asked me this while I was in Triage--you know, where they assess you. From my seat there, I could see a baby with a high fever who looked like she wanted to die. And I saw a man stagger in with a horrible grimace on his face every time he put weight on one of his ankles. And I saw a teen-age ball player cradling his hand, and blood all the way down his baseball pants.

I think while we were at the ER the first time, I told my mom, "Just shoot me now." Does that count as wanting to harm yourself, when you're so sick that you've made arrangements for all of your kids and dragged yourself and your mom to the hospital so they can put you out of your misery?

Do you feel like harming yourself? Ha!

As Mir would say, "I'm just saying', is all."

Thursday Folders

True life Thursday folder products from our house.

Art by Rex:
You have to imagine Rex saying this out loud to get how amusing it really is. "Sometimes it looked like a ... hmm ... a mountain!! But it wasn't (duh) a mountain. Well, duh."

Art by Caleb:
Now before you go judging, please remember that we visited Devil's Den State Park in Arkansas this summer. I do have to admit, however, that the real Devil's Den didn't look quite like that.

I just liked this one. It's always good to have superheroes.

And Caleb's list of favorite songs was pretty dang good. And a little surprising. And edited grammatically a bit.

1. Burnin' Up by the Jonas Brothers
2. HSM
3. Rock the Road by "rascklflats" (not bad for phonetic spelling)
4. Life is the Highway by "rascklfats" (I bet the band'll like that)
5. Camp Rock
   
6. Zack and Cody
7. Narnia
8. 17 Choose
9. I'm Not Buying that Line Anymore (this is my favorite on his list, because it's a Micheal McLean song that I listen to in the car, and it proves that your kids really are listening sometimes)
10. I Like that Line (he says this isn't a song; that he just got tired of coming up with songs)
    

Aha!

We definitely need some pictures to liven things up, and this one fits the bill nicely!

My computer software is still not doing what I tell it to do, but at least now I can find all of my pictures, thanks to Bob (I think). When I looked for my pics, they were nowhere to be found. So Bob promised to rescue me, and of course, he opens up the files and asks, "What do you mean you can't find the pictures? They're right here." I hate that.

But look at my girls. Aren't they so amazingly and uniquely beautiful? I love that each has her own distinct hair color, and each has different eyes--from Elisabeth's grey-blue eyes (they change with her shirt color, like her Dad's) to Sariah's bright blue eyes to Hannah's deep, deep brown eyes. I love their smiles and their goodness, and that they all voluntarily posed for this picture (a rarity for the oldest).

Ugh.

I need to post something new, but I'm still really frustrated with my camera software. Just words are boring. I know that sounds a little odd coming from the Word Lady, but I have small kids. We like the illustrations, darn it!

I overdid it yesterday, apparently. So today I'm just laying around with my buddy Rex, who's home from school with a cold and a fever. He's really trying to milk this. He wants a movie, and popcorn, and soda, and to play in the sand, and all because he's too sick to go to school.

Certainly he's the only child on earth who does this, right?

My kitchen floor really needs to be mopped, but I'm too tired to do it. Maybe I'll let Junebug in and let her do her do it. Aha! It's a plan.

At least I know that with all this food on the floor, there are no mice in the house.

Makes you wonder about snakes, though. Eeeeeewwww!

Survival

I am happy to report that I have survived my surgery. Not that there was really any doubt that I would. I was doing really well with the whole idea of having "routine" (is surgery ever routine?) minor outpatient surgery, until my parents decided they needed to be here (thank goodness they came!), and until we told Caleb. When I told the kids I was going to have a little operation, Caleb took off talking 90 miles/minute, so fast I couldn't understand him until he concluded with, "And my mom could die!!!!!!" I understood that part. And then I had a small panic attack, and my stress levels went up considerably. What was I doing? I have 5 kids, and I want to go under general anesthesia? How crazy is that?

Ah, but I overcame that, of course and dutifully showed up. My doctor had found an ovarian cyst several months ago, and it hadn't gone away, and it was unusually shaped, so we decided to go in laparascopically and find out what it was. As we had to contend with both Dr. P's surgery schedule and Bob's travel schedule, we did it on about 4 days' notice, so our week was totally upended. But all is well. I can't believe you can go in at 6:30 am on a Thursday morning, have some cysts a few of your organs removed (an ovary and a fallopian tube), be home before 10:30 am, and back to full-time mothering by Monday morning. It just seems so ... quick! for something so altering.

For those of you who are wondering ... you need have no fear--the baby factory is still operational. My parents have gotta love that; I think they, and a few others, think we have a few too many kids as it is. But Dr. P reassured my husband, "Don't worry. The potential to have babies is still there. Although I don't know why you would want to do that again."

Poor Bob. He was probably thinking, Why didn't you just take it all out, so we can get some sleep and be financially solvent!?!?!

Ok, ok. He says he wasn't really thinking that. He would "never be so callous."

Something so minor really makes you count your blessings, though. My parents came in on Wednesday night and stayed through Saturday afternoon, and Bob and I both think they made all the difference. I was in bed Thursday afternoon listening to Mom, Dad, and Bob ride herd on the kids, and I thought, "Wow, that's a lot of hard work." I must be amazing to take care of those kids all the time. Oh wait, I don't do it nearly so well as 3 adults, or with nearly as much style, patience, and grace. I just try to survive.

And we couldn't have done it without the assistance of some fabulous sisters from church, who checked in on us and brought us dinner (yummy dinner--we want the dessert recipe) and made sure everything was under control.

We're thankful that we have such a great support system, and that our Heavenly Father used it to look out for us so well. Thanks!

Comments, Please

No appreciation comments, but I would like to know if the new color scheme works? There were complaints with the old one, and I don't think our colors are adjusted correctly.

2-4-6-8, Who Do We Appreciate!

Not grammatically correct, but saying "Whom" would ruin the whole effect of this timeless cheer.

I'm feeling overworked and underpaid. No, that's not a request for flattering comments. I figure that it's probably selfish of me to want to be told that all of my offerings are acceptable, even when I feel like I've done the best that I can (or really feel like it, anyway, because let's face it, not all of our efforts are our absolute best).

President Hinckley said, "The antidote for selfishness is service, a reaching out to those about us--those in the home and those beyond the walls of the home" (quoted in Teachings of Gordon B. Hinckley, 1997, p 583).

And having heard frequently that an "Attitude of Gratitude" makes all the difference, I looked that subject up, too, in President Hinckley's Teachings book. I found at that at least I'm in good company, although I suspect that President Kimball probably wasn't feeling as selfish as I am today:

Although I should not have been, I was surprised at something President Kimball said on one occasion. I quote: "I find myself hungering and thirsting for just a word of appreciation or honest evaluation from my superiors and my peers. I want no praise; I want no flattery; I am seeking only to know if what I gave was acceptable."

If President Kimball needed a little of that, how much more do these [others]? (Teachings, p 247)

So, with that thought in mind, I am making a list of things for which I am grateful today.

1. My mom, because (among other things) she helped me fix the holes in my fence and plant my pansies, and she came all the way from Texas to watch the baby so I could go to a doctor's appointment.
2. Caleb, for doing his homework after school today right away.
3. Sariah, for giving people hugs when they are sad, and for laughing when she's tickled, and for carrying around 3 pacis because they make her happy.
4. Pansies, because they are cheerful and happy and make me smile, especially the yellow ones.
5. My neighbors, for giving me a hand with the kids when I need it.
6. I'm grateful that we didn't buy more house than we could afford, way back before the housing crisis.
7. I'm thankful for $3.19 gas. In 1993, when I bought gas for $0.88/gal, I would have never guessed I would be grateful for that.
8. And thanks to my hubby for not letting us move into a more expensive house or a great big gas guzzler. Now we're just getting by, instead of dead broke. ;)
9. I'm thankful for naptime. Sometimes, it's the highlight of my whole day.
10. I'm glad for the library. I love the library.

Ok, everybody, what are you grateful for?

Is It Over Yet?

This day, I mean. Or maybe, better yet, the last 7 days.

• Hannah did something bad to her tailbone. If she didn't break it, she bruised it up pretty badly. And there's nothing they can do for it. And this is my Pain-Is-BAD child.
• Sariah is apparently behind on her shots, through no fault of my own. Argh!
• One of my children (who shall remain nameless) punched a little girl on the bus today. Constant vigilance, constant vigilance! I let my guard down for a second. Double argh! Did you know that our public library had 157 children's books about bullies?
• I haven't made it to the Y since Friday. I did say my workout plan was loosely organized, but this is taking it a bit far.
• My van doesn't have AC, and it needed it today.
• I still own my van, despite my best efforts not to.

Ok, ok. Now I ought to count my blessings, because they far outnumber my ... um ... inconveniences.

• Gas went down 30 cents/gallon overnight. (Of course, it had gone up 40 cents/gallon over the weekend, but I'm counting my blessings here. It's still cheaper than it's been in a long while.)
• We have no appointments scheduled tomorrow. (Isn't that like asking for one of the kids to break their leg, or get expelled from school, or something?)
• Hannah says she's off her Harry Potter streak. Now she's moved on to the Baudelaires (that's Lemony Snickett). Kinda grim, but not so obsession-inspiring.
• The kids are once again fascinated with PBS, instead of the Disney Channel.
• My ginormous fish-tank snail is still alive, after days of me wondering about it. It ate a dead fish whole the other day. It probably felt too bloated to move for awhile.
  
• We don't live near hurricane-prone areas. (Tornadoes, but no hurricanes, so who's complaining? Ask me about it again next spring, right? At least here, we just don't have time to flee from our homes. They just flee with us, all along to the 4 winds.)
• My bag of goodies arrived from Christy yesterday, and I've already had to fight off the girls for the rights to my bag, which is perfect for hauling around my phone, keys, and debit card, by themselves or in the diaper bag or the monster purse. Christy, you rock! Thanks!
• My camera software arrived, too. Now if I can just make it go!
• Dr. Dad (that's my dad, not Bob), for answering all my medical queries, and Lyle the Tool-Man Dad for answering all my handyman disasters ... er situations.
• Dr. Dad (that's my husband, not my dad) for hashing out all of my medical queries even further, and Bob the Always Available Listening Ear for all of my woes and trepidations.
• And finally, 2 Nephi 4, which continues to pull me through all of my depressions, the really bad ones, and the not-so-bad, fleeting moments (or weekends, sometimes, but who's counting?).

So I don't count my blessings very well. Too many parentheses. But at least we know my sense of humor, however warped, is still intact. It's all good, right?

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

And it ain't December!

Christmas is all fine and good. Even when you're the mom and 250% frantic, crazy, and exhausted by December 20th.

But there's nothing like autumn, and it's definitely in the air around here. The temps dipped into the 40s last night. I was actually glad Caleb had crawled into bed with me, because then I had something to warm my feet up. Good thing he sleeps pretty hard (once he's in our bed, anyway).

The air at night is crisp and cool. Even during the day, you can run around with the car windows down. Guess that should make me more eager to drive the van.

Yeah, right.

The wind is back. I love the wind. I'm going to bookmark this post, and reread it in 4 weeks. By then, I'll be sick of the wind.

The late afternoons are perfect for children playing outside. And all the windows in the house are open, so you can hear an injury before it comes in and bleeds all over your living room floor. Oh dear! I meant, I can hear the joyous noises my children are making in all their glorious celebration of the fall.

I spent a delicious few hours at the consignment sale last night picking out little feeted jammies for Sariah to wear. Pink ones and purple ones and green ones and blue ones. It was the highlight of my day. And then Caleb called and told me he'd lost another tooth. The tooth fairy's gonna go broke.

But I am reminded of one of my favorite conversations with Elisabeth, the queen of all things explainable. When she was busy losing teeth ... well, ok, one tooth by one tooth stretched out endlessly ... I once asked her where she thought the tooth fairy got all of her money. She never paused for breath: during the day, the tooth fairy flies around picking up all the lost coins off the ground.

Man, I wish I was the tooth fairy.

But that's probably the reason I'm not -- she's way too generous with all that found money!