Got rain?

My younger brother emailed me this image today. He thought it was funny and said, "You're in for a wet week!"

Ya think? I replied and told him it was 'so not funny.'

It's Memorial Day weekend which is typically considered the unofficial start of summer. The 'officials' sure don't live in Washington.

One thing I've discovered in my 4 years here is how many different ways the forecasters use to describe crappy weather. We rarely watch the weather report on TV (we can pretty much predict what is coming), but when we do, Gavin and I totally crack up.

This is just a partial list of the euphemisms:

Partly sunny
Mostly cloudy
Cloudy
Slight showers
Scattered showers
Chance of showers
Few showers
Showers
Rain showers
Light rain

It's as if the weather people are competing to come up with new and innovative ways to explain a single phenomenon. Really?!? Isn't it all the same dreary forecast?

On the flip side, when it's clear and sunny here, it is absolutely take-your-breath-away gorgeous. Everything is greener than green and there is always a gentle breeze. It almost makes me forget the gloomy days. Our lovely weather lasts from July to October, with daylight as much as 17 hours per day (look it up if you don't believe me). And you know what? We earned it. The rest of the year, however, you can pick one of the above descriptions.

So while the rest of you are enjoying pool-side BBQs and slathering on sunscreen this weekend, I'll be porting my umbrella and raincoat.

The sun will come out, but probably not tomorrow.

Banished

My kids love Subway. I mean luuuuuurve it. Lincoln will eat there any day of the week, and Aubrey has been known to pound down an entire foot long. My little Aubrey. Twelve inches of sandwich. True story.

Well, after today's lunchtime fiasco, I'm afraid we may not be part of the 'Footlong Nation Appreciation.' I don't think we'll be stepping foot in a Subway restaurant anytime soon.

Where do I even begin?

Aubrey had an orthodontist appointment. Yes, she just barely turned 8; and yes, I'm already paying an orthodontist. She has an appliance in her mouth to help her kick her thumb-sucking habit.

Am I a mean mom? Perhaps, but I wish I would have been mean much earlier. Mean would have been to yank her wee baby thumb out of her mouth 8 years ago, and I should have done just that. Alas, the damage is done and we're simply trying to prevent more damage. {I'm talking 'open bite' people, and it isn't pretty.}

Because her appointment was during lunch time, we had to eat together before I took her back to school. Lincoln wanted Subway, as always, but Aubrey has a hard time with sandwiches right now due to her lovely mouth appliance. Since I try to be an accommodating mother (and mostly since she is already losing weight due to this contraption), I bought her chicken teriyaki (another beloved dish) to bring in to Subway.

Before entering the restaurant, I realized Jace had a poopy diaper. There is no changing table in Subway, so I opted to change him in the car. As if I wasn't inconvenienced enough standing in the rain changing my son by the side of my minivan, I also couldn't find an outside garbage can. I wasn't going to leave that stinky diaper in my car, so the next best place was the bathroom garbage inside Subway.

So in we went. Aubrey was carting her own 'outside' food, and I was scurrying to the back to throw away a nasty diaper. As soon as we were in, Lincoln started coughing. You should know that he can't just cough like a normal person. He tries to clear the phlegm as he coughs, and the only way he knows how to do it is by gagging himself. It sounds awful.

Cough. Gag. Cough louder. Gag more. It's horrid. But it just sounds bad. He's really only clearing his throat.

Until today.

I came back from the restroom (what? all of 5 seconds later?), and Aubrey blurted out, "Mom!! Lincoln threw up!!" (With extra 8-year-old dramatic emphasis on the threw up.)

WHAT?!?

Sure enough, there he was. His big, blue, deer-in-the-headlights eyes (he couldn't believe it, either) staring at me, sticky phlegm all over his coat sleeve, and a puddle on the floor. And of course all eyes were on us since the only available table was at the exact center of the restaurant, where Aubrey had already opened up her styrofoam take-out container and was digging in to her chicken and rice.

I politely asked for napkins, carefully removed his nasty coat, and wiped up the mess as best I could--all the while doting on him like a loving mother and making sure he was okay since everyone was still watching me. (Of course I knew he was fine, I just had to act concerned.)

Okay. Time to order food for the rest of us. I brought our own chips and drinks because I'm cheap. And because my kids NEVER finish the huge restaurant portion, and insist on each having their own.

But Jace doesn't want the lunch box portion Doritos I pull out of my purse. He wants the 'Big Grab' bag, which is so easily within his reach. I think I interrupted my sandwich order three different times to corral him away from the chips, put chips back where they belonged, and show him the chips--the VERY SAME CHIPS--I brought.

By the time I sat down, Jace was ready for a full-blown 2-year-old tantrum. He didn't want the chips, so he threw them on the floor. And he most certainly didn't want the juice box I brought, he wanted my diet Coke. For the next 7 minutes, I tried to appease him so the rest of us could eat in peace. He ultimately decided to drink his juice box, but threw chips on the floor despite my best efforts to keep them away from him.

When we were ready to leave, Aubrey asked if she could buy some cookies. I normally say no, but this girl really does need to pack on the calories, so I handed her some money.

While she was ordering, Jace got down and started stomping on the chips he had earlier thrown on the floor. I jumped up to stop him, and accidentally knocked Aubrey's root beer can on the ground. Like I said, my kids never finish their drinks, so this was a nearly-full can of contraband root beer, and it was fizzing and flowing all over the busted up chips that Jace had crushed.

About this time, I caught the look of horror on the manager's face when he glanced our way. I wish I could tell him how sorry I was.

I grabbed a high chair to sit Jace in while I tried to clean up the floor, and he threw a fit--of course.

Of course Subway doesn't just have napkins out for you to grab, and of course now there is a huge rush and several people in line so I can't ask for napkins, and of course Jace is screaming at me straddling the high chair ready to plunge off of it head first, because OF COURSE the strap is broken on the blasted high chair. Of course.

I used what few napkins I had from our lunch, tried to clean up graciously, then reminded myself that I was, afterall, a paying customer (if you don't count Aubrey's lunch and the kids' chips and drinks since I brought that all in myself) and not entirely obligated to clean up.

At that point, the best thing I could do was leave. Grab my kids, their uneaten food, and get out of there.

Poor Subway. If the manager banishes us, I totally don't blame him.

It's Great to be Eight

Saturday is the big day. Should I tell her to hurry and misbehave before it's too late?

'Wii' Wish You a Merry Christmas

The little Munchkeroonies waiting for the A-okay Christmas morning

Gavin and I decided last summer to finally join the rest of the gaming world and buy the kids a Wii for Christmas. When they stayed with family while we were on our Cruise, they played quite a bit of Wii and completely enjoyed it.

We were holding off based on past experience. The first time our family played Wii was at my Mom's house a couple of years ago. Within the very first game, Aubrey swung at something with such force that she accidentally let go of the remote, and it flew down and whacked her in the arm--leaving a bruise. Literally moments later, Gavin swung his remote (playing tennis, I believe) just as Lincoln made his way across the room. THWACK! Right upside Lincoln's head.

Yeah, it was a pretty easy decision then that our family was not quite ready for the action and adventure of Nintendo's Wii. So here we are now, a couple of years later, giving it a whirl.

The kids had no idea. They might have mentioned it wishfully once or twice, but Gavin and I played it off--saying they didn't need it because Grandma had one, they don't even play with the toys they already have, it was too expensive, etc.

Meanwhile, I had secretly searched for the best price online, negotiated with a store clerk to give me the same deal as a dot com, and stored the Wii and accompanying paraphernalia securely in our garage. Two days before Christmas, I wrapped everything and packaged it up in a box in my closet.

So you can imagine my surprise on Christmas Eve when Lincoln came downstairs and announced, "Mommy, Jace just opened up my Wii." WHAT?!?

I said to Gavin with a somewhat panicked voice, "Gav, did you hear what Lincoln just said?" And we went upstairs, simultaneously trying to shoo Aubrey and Lincoln back down, lest they know for sure.

Still so cute, even when he's in trouble.

Sure enough--there he was. All the presents under the tree, all the other Wii presents in the box, and Jace had to open THIS ONE. What a kid.

My first instinct was to just say forget it and open it all up a day early. But since I'm an absolute GENIUS (and don't you forget it), I thought to tell the kids that it was just Grandma's old Wii box, and she had put their presents inside.

Aubrey looked at me with her coy little grin as if to say, "Yeah, right." So, a few minutes later, while Aubrey was within earshot, I called my mom to seal the deal. Of course the kids could only hear my end of the conversation, which went something like this:

"Hey Mom, guess what Jace did? . . . He opened up the box you used to wrap the kids' presents. . . . You know your old Wii box? . . Yeah, Jace opened it and the kids were all super excited because they thought they were getting a Wii . . . "

My Mom had no idea initially what I was talking about, but she soon figured it out. And since the kids couldn't hear her laughing, they figured I was serious.

The best part was Christmas morning. The Wii box had been rewrapped, and we put all the Wii presents in their own little corner. After opening everything else, Aubrey finally asked, "Hey, what about Grandma's Wii box?"


We led the kids to the second pile of presents, and directed them to open the Wii first. Lincoln was thrilled, "YAY! We got a Wii! We got a Wii!!!"

To which Aubrey responded, "No, Lincoln. Remember it's just Grandma's old Wii box." (Hook, line, and sinker.)

So then we told them to open up the rest of the presents and find out for sure. Immediately upon opening the next one (a game or something), they knew it was legit. And they were just as excited as they would have been without Jace's little spoiler--perhaps more so.

Christmas had been saved.

O Christmas Tree II

Just like last year, we recently cut down our own tree at the local Christmas tree farm. It isn't as rustic as it sounds--we drove our car to the parking area, walked maybe 100 yards to a vast field of trees, cut it (the only part that's legit), a guy in a tractor came to pick it up, we paid, and voila! Fresh cut Christmas tree.

Don't get me wrong--it's fun, and it our cute little tradition, but we can in no way claim to be lumberjacks. It's kind of like going fishing at a fish hatchery--which is nothing like fishing in open water (not that I know much about that either, but you catch my drift . . . ).


Anyway, besides actually sawing the tree down (with a borrowed saw, not ours), the only other thing we had to do was tie the tree to our car.

On the very slow drive home, we heard suspicious noises overhead. Oh no! Not again! Even my little 2-year-old was perceptive enough to say in a hushed and fearful voice, "Our Kissmas twee fawin off, Mommy. Our Kissmas twee fawin off."


You should know that the tree started out in line with the car--as in lying from front to back. Somehow along the way, it turned a full 90 degrees and slid off a bit. So Jace was right, it really was falling off.


At least this year, nobody bragged about knot-tying skills.

(If you're wondering why Aubrey isn't pictured--she had Girl Scouts that day and wanted us to go without her. "I don't want to get my shoes dirty," she told me. A girl's gotta have priorities.)

Five Alive

This sweet boy, my first-born son, will be five on Wednesday. But lately he is not acting like a five-year-old. Nuh-uh, not at all. And I keep telling him that we are not going to celebrate this big day unless he gets his act together. Maybe we'll wait a month, or put it off until the Spring.

This is what he did today (with a little help from his younger brother):

*Pulled off couch cushions (AGAIN)
*Dumped pretzels, cheetos, and popcorn onto the couch frame, then sprayed it with kitchen cleaner
*Crunched three bags of ramen with a mallet, and dumped them on the floor and counters
*Dragged a small folding chair from the closet into the kitchen, climbed onto the counters, pulled the frosting bag and food coloring out of the cupboard and left it on the counter (probably thought it was the bag of chocolate chips)
*Cut open a few fruit roll-ups, leaving the wrappers and the scissors on the love seat
*Tore open a package of poptarts, then left them on the end table
*Scattered recently developed photographs across the floor

All of that was before 8:00 AM. When I went downstairs and saw the pandemonium, I couldn't take it. I surveyed the damage and went straight upstairs. I told Gavin he had better get up and get down there as it was the worst mess I'd ever seen, and I was going running. If I was to help the boys clean up, I would dismember them. I was so mad.

Like always, my run did me good. It took a good 1/2 mile or mile before I could think of something else besides how mad I was. Or how stupid I was to stay in bed. Or how ridiculous I was to not remember to latch the pantry before bed. Finally I could enjoy the peace and quiet of hitting my stride and listening to my iPod.

When I returned home, sweet Gavin had most of the mess cleaned up and had coached the boys all along about how naughty it was. Little Jace was sequestered to his chair and kept saying, "Sawee." "No more mesthes." "Doont do it ageen." I helped Lincoln sweep up the ramen, and we were moving on.

Not so fast.

Gavin went to turn on the TV so the boys could watch a show while he ran on our treadmill and I showered. And the TV wouldn't turn on. Apparently the boys had sprayed more than their little couch-top snack buffet. They also sprayed INSIDE THE TELEVISION.

We realized the TV was in fact already on. It was making a buzzing and crackling sound that was so faint you didn't realize it until you unplugged it. When plugging it back in again, it crackled even louder and something zzzted and snapped.

We asked Lincoln if he had sprayed the TV. "Yah." And what happened? "It tuhned yike colors running down the skeen and den made a sound and den dere were no more shows on."

Buh-bye TV.

Okay, so our list continues:

*BROKE the TV
*Locked himself and Jace in the bathroom, filled up the sink with water, flooded the floor, and emptied out a bottle of shampoo
*Smeared peanut butter in Jace's hair (and on a few toys we later found out)

And these last two antics were inbetween discovering the TV was broken and taking Aubrey to her basketball game. While Gavin bathed Jace, I took Lincoln and Aubrey to the game. As long as Lincoln was separated from Jace and out of the house, he was okay.

(Oh, except Gavin called me while we were out to say he found another mess in the bathroom--a whole roll of toilet paper had been dropped in the toilet, then stashed behind the door so we wouldn't find it, and someone had artistically smeared poo on the toilet seat. Yeah.)

We purchased a new TV (not what I had planned to do on the last Saturday before Christmas . . . ), and were hooking everything up tonight when Lincoln was in trouble again. I don't even remember what he did, but he was sent to time out in his room.

Unbeknownst to us, he took a large piece of the new TV styrofoam packing to his room with him. While in time out, he broke it up into little tiny pieces with a screwdriver (also contraband!), and dumped them on his floor. So he went to bed all alone without a story. But he's still not done!

At 10:30, he starts puking his guts out. ANOTHER MESS! Poor little guy is so dog dead tired from trouble-making all day long that he is chewing on his barf chunks! Gavin has to rouse him enough to tell him to quit chewing the chunks! Gross!!! It isn't until Lincoln is all showered off and clean and asks me why I'm scrubbing his carpet--he didn't even know he had been sick.

Hopefully now we can get some rest, and hopefully tomorrow he can make better choices. If this nonsense continues though, I am seriously going to postpone his birthday.


(P.S. I have real food in my house too--it's not all poptarts and cheetos and chocolate chips--that's just what naughty boy goes for when he wants to wreak havoc.)

(P.P.S. I DO punish this kid, but it's apparently not sinking in.)

(P.P.P.S. No, I did not take any pictures of today's mayhem. But I chose to blog about it because perhaps someday I'll think it's as funny as my mom thinks it is.)

Elf Magic

Last year, Aubrey couldn't stop talking about how we needed a 'Magic Elf,' and I of course had no idea what she meant. She told me and Gavin all about it, and we were stumped. She even wrote it on her Christmas list, asking Santa to bring her one.

Even if we didn't know what was going on, Santa sure did. Aubrey's wish for a magic elf is going to be granted.*

This adorable little elf is coming very soon to our home, and he is going to monitor the kids' behavior and report back to Santa. Every morning he'll be in a new spot, and some days he might even have caused some 'elf mischief' of his own.

Isn't he the cutest little elf in the whole wide world? I can't wait to see how the kids react. I love his innocent little face and changeable wardrobe, but of course I love even more how he is going to bring a little Christmas peace and joy to our home.

You see, our elf will be very detailed in his reports to Santa Claus, so I'm crossing my fingers sure the kids will be on their very best behavior.

And very best behavior is nothing short of magic in my house.

*(Santa wishes to thank one very smart friend and the all-knowing internet for helping figure out the riddle of the Magic Elf.)