Our budding musician

Aubrey and a few friends at the concert

A couple of weeks ago was the kindergarten and first grade music concert at school. Aubrey opted to be a part of the choir which meant Thursday morning practices for about a month. You should know that Aubrey is in afternoon kindergarten, so being at school before it even started for the morning kids was no small endeavor. At least I was on time to my spin class on those days.

I thought she actually had to be in the choir to be a part of the music program. Not so, but I didn't figure that out until after a few practices. Oh well. All of the kids sang songs they've learned this year, and the evening was topped off by the choir. It was fun.

(The little stinker was mad at me before the concert for making her wear a dress. She said she didn't want to look like a 'freak,' and would rather wear her dirty jeans and T-shirt. I told her she could either wear the most casual dress in her closet (shown above), or stay in her play clothes and really look like a freak when all of her friends were in dresses. Uh-huh, mommy knows best.)

If her singing career doesn't work out, she is also in piano lessons and recently had a recital. She takes group piano lessons at Ovation Academy. It works out really well because her teacher picks her up after school (her daughter is in Aubrey's class), they walk together to the piano studio, and I pick her up an hour later.

This video is of an ensemble they played at the recital with three different parts. I love how their little heads bob as they count out the notes. (Sorry the lighting isn't great . . . )

Take Me Out to the Ball Game . . .

. . . or Boob Game, as it seemed to be. Last Thursday was 'Chloe Clark night' with the Tacoma Rainiers. After only a few minutes there, we wondered if it was really 'Cleavage night.' Thank goodness the people in our group were well-covered.

The school children were invited to sing the National Anthem to kick off the game (Aubrey declined), accompanied by the music teacher on a euphonium (now doesn't that make me sound smart?!). Our tickets included a hot dog, bag of chips, and a drink. We had seats as a group, so there were lots of kids Aubrey knew from school. The principal and vice-principal were there too, and they had printed up their own trading cards which they autographed for the kids. So cute!!

Aubrey and Lincoln sitting by a statue of Ben Cheney--the stadium's namesake. Aubrey is so proud of her trading cards!

Despite the scantily clad women all around, we really had a fun family night. What is it with boobage these days? It was mostly the 20-something crowd, and maybe it just shows that we don't get out much. Really, ladies, the weather is warming up, but it isn't that hot.

Our lame attempt at a self-timed family pic. Gavin is snapping his fingers to get Lincoln to look at the camera. Oh well , we tried . . .

Happy Mother's Day to me

As I type this week-overdue recap of my celebratory day last week, my kids are locked out in the backyard squirting each other with spray bottles. If one of them screams again, or sprays the sliding glass door again, they might just have to find a new mother. Sigh. Too bad Mother's Day can't be Mother's month. My brother's birthday is in November, and he has declared the entire month Zacvember. And, while a great bro, he isn't nearly as deserving as all the mothers I know. 

So here's how it all went down . . .

We got home from Great Wolf Lodge around 5:00 Saturday night. Aubrey had a birthday party to attend, so Gav and I took the boys out to eat. Over our yummy dinner, we planned the next day. Gavin thought it would be fun for the kids to bring me breakfast in bed, but my typical breakfast is a banana as I'm running out the door. We decided on pancakes, and I told him we already had a box of bisquick in the pantry. Easy peasy--I'm not hard to please.

The next morning (Mother's Day Sunday), I'm lying in bed lazily reading my book. I know Lincoln is awake, and I think I can hear dishes clanging downstairs. I get out of bed and continue reading in my comfy chair. I get dressed and keep reading. I might have dozed off in there a time or two. I'm beginning to wonder what is taking so long--could it be that Gav can't find the bisquick?

Finally I hear Lincoln tromping up the stairs giggling and exclaiming, "It's wake-up time!" So in comes my cute little family with . . . not pancakes. My sweet Gavin made creme-filled crepes with fresh strawberries and syrup!! A few strawberries were even sliced into a pretty little flower, and the syrup was drizzled just-so on the crepes. What!? Who knew he had a domestic side beyond chocolate chip cookies?!

Yum.

After church, he also made stew in the Dutch oven for our dinner. There are lots of perks to Dutch oven cooking--the great smoky taste, the fact that Gavin is in charge, and the easy clean-up (of which he is also in charge). But the best part is how long it keeps the kids occupied outside. So far nobody has tried to pick up the coals.

After dinner, it was bedtime. And I was simply pooped from all my relaxing. I fell asleep in Aubrey's room, then stumbled down to my own bed. Gavin stayed up cleaning--what a guy!

So now I really think this kind of treatment should go beyond just one day. A friend of mine once said that Mother's Day is really just a test to see if there is even going to be a Father's Day that year. I'm happy to say that Gav has definitely earned his day this year--and not just for the crepes.

My sweet Mother's Day kisses from Jace

Great Wolf Lodge

We finally made it to the new Great Wolf Lodge, and it was worth the wait! We loved the one in Williamsburg, VA; and this one in Grand Mound, WA did not disappoint. We've already planned a return visit in July when cousin Lindsay is visiting. We should've bought stock in this place a long time ago.

Something new to this GWL (although has been added to the VA one since we moved) is the Howlin' Tornado ride. So fun. Aubrey barely made the required height at 48", and she probably wishes she didn't. We still convinced her to go a few times, though. It's a 4-person ride, and starts out as a basic waterslide. After the third or fourth turn, you are suddenly DROPPED into a gigantic funnel. The momentum sweeps you back and forth down the tunnel until you end up in another tube to finish the ride. Really, everyone should try it.

Either I have forgotten how much work it is to keep track of my kids as they're having the time of their lives, or it just gets crazier as they get older. There were three other families from our ward there, but we were so busy that we hardly saw them. My only regret is that we didn't take a 'ladies plunge' down Howlin' Tornado. That would have been a riot.

Aubrey has always called it 'Great Luf Lodge,' and we thought maybe she just had a hard time saying 'Wolf.' Well, apparently she really thinks it is 'Luf' since this is what she sounded out at school.

Lincoln wasn't really into the water slides at first, but he warmed up to the ones in the kiddie area, especially with big sis leading the way. He asked me the other day if we could live at Great Wolf Lodge.

Who doesn't need a little nap after playing so hard? The pic on the left is Linc two years ago asleep on the Lazy River. Since Grand Mound sadly does not have this ride, he settled for a nap in the chair.

I'm thinking Jace prefers the dry towels over the wet fountain. He got used to it though.

Past-life regression

Oprah was on today. I of course wasn't actually watching it. My Oprah-watching days are over. I simply hear snippets of it while doing laundry, washing dishes, checking on kids who are playing upstairs with friends, feeding the baby, etc. And this only when the TV isn't already monopolized by kids, which doesn't happen very often. So today was my day, I guess, and what I did catch was very intriguing. 

There was this psycho-therapist guy, along with the famous Dr. Oz. I don't know how it came to be, but Oprah kept saying to keep an open mind (red flag #1). This therapist guy does some sort of hypnosis (red flag #2), and people regress (red flag #3) to their past-lives (you guessed it--red flag #4). 

One guest was a funeral director (also a red flag??) who has always had dreams of flying and freaks out if anyone puts any sort of pressure on his chest. Under hypnosis, he gets in touch with his past-lives, and what do you know? He was a fighter pilot in some past war in another life and was shot down (hence the flying dreams), and he was once stuck in some sort of trash compactor, also in another life (hence the chest-pressure phobia). 

Whatever, I don't totally buy it; but maybe this approach can explain some of my own idiosyncrasies:

#1 Kids bug me. I must have been a circus master back in the day when all the whacked out kids joined the circus. It was my job to make them into entertainers, and they drove me crazy. Either that, or I was a schoolteacher when they had one room schoolhouses and all the kids from the whole town were in there together. Not my idea of fun--not then, not now.

#2 I like to eat.  Surely this problem of mine stems from a past-life when I lived during Old Testament times of famine. The manna from heaven got old really fast, so now I just can't make myself quit with a single granola bar (or cookie or handful of crackers or whatever). 

#3 I'm habitually late.  This one is easy--I lived in the era where there was no time. Clocks weren't even invented, and I liked it that way.

So you see, I have it all figured out, and I didn't even need hypnosis. What happened in your past-life?

Now if I could just figure out why my dear hubby throws his socks on the floor right next to the laundry basket, instead of actually in it . . . 

Who needs the Tulip Festival?

Once again, we failed to make it to the Skagit County Tulip Festival this year. We'll be in Washington for at least another 3 years, so I'm not entirely disappointed. It would have been fun though. Several of my friends have gone, and their pictures are incredible. 

Just when I was scheming to find another tulip field nearby or something else to satisfy my craving for gorgeous flowers, someone dropped these off on my front porch. No card (yet again--see my banana bread post), just a jaw-dropping bunch of fresh tulips wrapped in green tissue paper with a type-written note explaining their care. 

Did you know tulips live longer with cold water? I didn't, but I do now (it was in the note). Every morning, I put a few ice cubes in the vase, and they did great. 

So whoever you are, thanks. The tulips found a home on the kitchen island, and were the first thing I saw each morning. I thought of you and your kindness. I even shared one with Aubrey's teacher on the flower day of staff appreciation week. Your flowers were the gift that kept on giving. 

My Parable of the Bicycle

Always smiling before we go (pic from last year)

Some of you are familiar with the original 'Parable of the Bicycle' in Stephen E. Robinson's book Believing Christ. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you can read more here, because what I'm about to tell you is probably twice as long (you've been warned) and not near as lovely. This is my own real-life mean mom experience. But I learned something, so it can be a parable of sorts too.

My sweet Aubrey girl has a small princess bike. She has outgrown it, but I told her a long time ago that she couldn't get a new bike until she learned how to ride without training wheels. So her long, lanky self pumps those pedals with all her might, teetering on the blasted training wheels, and whining all the way. It just about kills me to take her out with her bike. But when the sun is shining in Washington and I'm going nutso indoors, somehow it always seems like a good idea--at first.

One day she was begging to ride her bike to school. Her school is just a few blocks away. There is a perfectly suitable bus that picks her up within eyesight of my back door; but no, she wants to ride the too-small bike. So I thought I would be zealous, pack a picnic lunch, load the boys in the double jogger stroller, and go on an adventure. I warned Aubrey about complaining and said we would turn right around and come home. She promised, PROMISED that she was going to be okay. You know where this is going.

We passed the point of no return when we saw the bus pull out on the main street--alrighty then, looks like we're riding to school today. So of course I'm running and pushing about 60 pounds of kid (Lincoln & Jace), and Aubrey starts in, "Mommy, my legs are hurting." (We can still see our house across the field.) To which I reply (breathless myself), "Yup, that's what happens when you exercise. Keep going." And more whining, "But Mommy, it's so haaaaa-aaard, can you give me a boost?" "No Aubrey, no boost. You have to keep your speed and keep pedalling." She thinks about it and keeps trudging away, then, "Mommy, I can't do it. Can't we just go home? I want to ride the bus to school." Now I'm getting angry. "NO, Aubrey. You said you could do this. The bus is already gone. You have to ride your bike to the park, eat your lunch, then go to school. Just keep moving, and quit whining!" "But my legs are reaaaaaally hurting." And on and on and on.

Of course everything I say to her is amplified because I'm running along and she is trailing me by 15 yards or so. People are probably looking out their windows wondering who is yelling at the poor, crying kid on the wee baby bike. Maybe they're getting ready to call DCFS. Oh yeah, and Jace spit up all over himself right after we left, so Lincoln keeps telling me, "Mommy, Jace did a yot of pittys on him's shirt." What have I gotten myself into? My only comfort is in the fact that I will NEVER be dumb enough to try this again.

At least the boys are content. If you look closely, you can see Jace's spit-up

Fast forward to last Friday afternoon. It's gorgeous outside, a shame not to get out and take advantage of the sunshine. But I just can't do the training wheel thing anymore, and I'm convinced Aubrey can ride farther and faster once she figures it out. A few of my friends have posted lately about their daughters learning to ride two-wheelers, and I've tried playing the peer-pressure card ("Look, Aubrey, so-and-so is doing it."), but she doesn't care. 

So it's time for tough love. I tell her matter-of-factly that we are taking off the training wheels, learning to ride a bike, then going for a run to a new park. She cries. I go out in the garage, get the tools, remove the training wheels, and she is still crying. Oh, the DRAMA! I'm trying to tell her it will be okay, promising that I'm not going to let her fall, encouraging her that it's not that hard, etc. Still crying.

As I hoist the now-training-wheel-less bike back up on its feet (so to speak), it seems like something is jammed. It's hard to push. What's going on? I check the hand brake, and find it's . . . stuck. Are you kidding me? I look at the front tire, and I can see skid marks on the rim from where the brake has worn off because Aubrey has been forcing the tire through the brake pads, while her mean mom is yelling at her to quit whining. Yeah. No wonder her legs have been hurting. 

It's like in spin class when the instructor tells us to crank up the resistance and then yells. "Take off!!! GO! GO! GO! GO!" I know I'm in pain when that happens, and I'm sure it hasn't been much different for my little girl.

I still make her try (not because I'm a mean mom, but because I didn't yet realize the full extent of the problem), then Gavin came home and fixed it. It literally took him less than 5 seconds to adjust the brake cable. That's all--and he didn't even need tools. Who knew? We love having a super-Daddy to save the day. 

Hopefully soon we'll have an updated post with a picture of her new bike, proof that she has mastered the skill. In the mean time, the lesson of the day is to listen to my kids and know that maybe once in a while there is substance to the drama. 

Sorry, Aubrey, for torturing you all this time on your bike stuck with the brakes on. My bad.