Halloween Open House

Welcome to my Halloween Open House, courtesy of Chilihead at Don't Try This at Home.

This is our front door. (Walmart $4.99)












These are in the flower beds. Yes, flowers in October. Houston Tx Baby! Gotta love it!

(Walmart $1.99)

A picture of the lampost.
(Michael's skeleton kit $3.99)

But the scariest pictures I have to show you for Halloween are these pictures of Charlie pulling down the long ignored vines off the roof and sides of the house.

(Husband doing his chores, PRICELESS!)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN YA'LL!

Love is Blind...

Love is blind, you've heard it a thousand times and when it comes to your kids, well it's a doozy. Sure, everybody thinks their kid is the cutest one in the room, I'm no exception. But I realize it's just the way I'm seeing things. Well, you know what love did to me today? It let me send my adorable little four year old to preschool with a long-haired Guinea Pig on her head.


Look at that thing! Not only did love let me send her wearing a Burt Reynolds hairpiece castoff, but love told me she was the most Beautiful Belle at the Ball, Disney or otherwise!

Ain't Love Grand?

Visit Chookooloonks for more Thursday's Love is...even though it's Friday.

HELP....

...I've done half a Pilates workout AND I CAN'T GET UP!

How's This for a Reality Show?

Monday morning I get up with a plan. Dentist appointment for me at 10:00. My sister-in-law is going to meet me at the Mother's Day Out at 9:30 so she can watch Ace for me. That was the plan.

This is the reality.

We get up at 7:00 and get ready for our Walkies on DVD, the boys trickle down by 15 or 20 after and miss the first half mile. Melee' sits down and has his "healthy" breakfast of a Cookies and Cream Quaker Chewy Granola bar (key words Granola Bar) and a light Vanilla Yogurt. I'm putting together John and Peaches lunches, Zoey comes in with her mom and we visit for a minute, firm up plans for the dentist and Zoey and Melee' take off on their bikes for school. Zoey's mom heads home for a shower and I begin hounding John to hurry and comb his hair and brush his teeth. Meanwhile, I start slicing potatoes for the Au Gratin potatoes I'm taking over to their house for Monday night football.

At 8:25 Melee' calls.
"Mom, um, I was sitting in the cafeteria and someone spilled their milk and cereal all over me and I need some new clothes."
"Uh. ** Well. ** Um. Okay, I've got to get Peach and Ace dressed and I 'll be there in about ten minutes."
I get John out to the bus at 8:27 and haul upstairs to cloth and shoe the Littles. I'll have to take them into the building so Peach's hair will have to be dealt with. I get the casserole in the oven, kids dressed, jump in the car and by the time I get around the corner to the school, it occurs to me that Melee' is fibbing. The only way he could have gotten milk and cereal dumped all over him, is if he was eating a second breakfast and spilled it on himself. Do a changeout of clothes, with a small lecture on telling the truth then zip back home to get Peach ready for school.

Do I have any makeup on? Have I brushed my teeth? Oh yeah. Run upstairs, look in the mirror and do damage control. My S-I-L calls and says, why don't I just come on over and then you won't have to run Ace back to the house. "Great!" Put on some mascara, run downstairs and gather Peaches bags. By the time she and I get to Mother's Day Out it's 9:45, fifteen minutes late. I jump back in the car and start to leave the parking lot when S-I-L calls my cell phone and says "Were you expecting the exterminator today?" "Shit! Yes, I'll swing by and leave you a check, Sorry!" Write the check while swinging my 3 ton vehicle around stop signs in the neighborhood and practically fling the check out the window at her as I pass. I look down at my watch and realize there is no way I'm gonna make my appointment on time, so at the next stop light I dig through my purse, find the office number and call to tell them I'm running a little late. "What was your name again?" "Geraldine Fleiss, with an F." "Oh, well honey, your not supposed to be here till next Monday."

Friday Roundup

Stealing His Halloween Thunder

Once in a blue moon, a child and their costume will come together in a way you could not expect until you see the two together....I give you......Mr. IncreBaDle....

Wreaking havoc since August 16th 2003, coming soon to a theater near you.

T Minus 4 Hours and Counting

The countdown to Charlie has begun. Never have I looked forward to a suitcase filled with dirty clothes with such reckless abandon.

Fall Concert.. a Preview

Last night was John's Fall Orchestra Concert. They delivered his new viola yesterday during school. He came home and made us all sit down so he could present the new instrument for us as if we were on the Price Is Right and were going to have to guess the retail value. Now that he's in Non-Varsity, he had to have black slacks and a tuxedo shirt complete with bow tie, to go with the homemade red vest that marks him as a true Orch-dork. Nana and I went as well as Melee' and Zoey, and as we were getting ready to leave John said "Nana, we're not going in your car are we? I've got to be riding in style!" And I said "He's right Mom, go park that dog out on the curb and I'll get out the Suburban." then as we stepped out the door he said "Mom? Did you remember my bouquet?" "Doh!" Alas, it could have been a perfect evening. But then again, I did say I brought two of the kids, didn't I? I took video and I'm hoping to get Charlie to help me upload some of it so I can show you my mad videography skills, plus you'll get to hear me scold children in a hushed Texas accent, that ought to be fun.

He is by far the finest waiter Viola player in the family.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Melee' gets his first report card today. They are on a nine week schedule, which has been very hard to get used to, but may work to his advantage as he got his first Wednesday folder this week that did NOT have an N for needs improvement for his behavior. Stay tuned.....

Love is....

Reading someone a bedtime story....

















The boys did this because I asked them to, they had all been playing together which is not a common occurance. And despite the fact that they were playing robbers and guns (Oh those big kids are such a bad influence!) I let them have their shootout because Peach and Ace were so thrilled to be included. I have to remember to make John and Melee' do this more often, because even when they protest, it always ends with them being so sweet and kissing and hugging their little brother and sister good-night.

Visit Karen at Chookooloonks to add your link for Thursday's Love Is and check out all kinds of love....

The Height of Vanity

I don't spend a lot of time in front of the mirror. Oh, you know, I get up and brush my teeth and wash the face. I love my Chi, so if weather permits, I straighten my hair, and I get out my assorted makeup accutrements and try to camouflage some of the hormone spots I've accumulated over four pregnancies. But for the most part, once I'm done, I don't much look at myself the rest of the day. However, the other night as I was putting myself together for Faith Formation, I noticed that the way my hair was falling that day, was showing all my gray roots. So I got out a tube of brown mascara and brushed my roots because brown roots look WAY less trashy than gray ones. Eighth graders are an impressionable lot after all, I told myself.

So to save myself any further embarrassment and as there is NOTHING on television tonight, I'm off to "wash" that gray right out of my hair. Before my man gets back on Friday.

An Idiot's Guide to the Lives of the Saints

John and I were in the half-price bookstore the other day and as I was digging around, I found a book for four bucks on the lives of the Saints. I thought, well, since I'm a Parakeet* for eighth graders this year, I might find some interesting facts to share.

After reading half of it, I'm

A. Wondering if I slept through every CCD class I ever attended in High School and

B. Not sleeping well.

They go through a little Catholic background at the beginning and as this book seems to be written in plain english, rather than the usual runaround I have a hard time deciphering, I was somewhat disheartened to learn that the best that I can hope for is to be purified in the flames of purgatory for a thousand years or so before I get to heaven. That's the best case scenario, since I've disqualified myself for Sainthood and the chances for Martyrdom is slim, despite my own opinion. And the stories of the Saints....well, they're out there, you know what I'm saying? From guys who baptized lions, to women who after being tortured in innumerable ways for their faith, remained miraculously alive torture after horrible torture and finally being killed and carried off to heaven by angels. And I'm torn between throwing the book in the trash can or making a pocket size card of the Prayer to Saint Antony, Patron Saint of Excema.

My Uncle wrote to say how proud he is of us, that of all the kids in the family, my family is the only one who is bringing their kids up in the Church instead of going to the Protestant Church down the street, because they have better snacks. I have a suspicion that they may have something more appealing than just the snacks.

This morning in Church as the "Guest Homilist" started speaking and I realized no matter how hard I tried, I was not going to be able to understand him, I almost started to cry. For the last three years we have had a priest from India. And although we loved him right away, it took us at least a year to truly understand him, and just as we learned the rhythm and cadence of his accent, they sent him somewhere else. Our new priest is from somewhere like Vietnam. He says things like "Let us Prays." During his homilies, you can understand each individual word, but they're like a puzzle. You have to rearrange them and try to put the picture of each sentence together as you go. So when the priest from Mexico, who is a missionary in Angola, tried to explain to us the work they do near Rwanda, I was so totally frustrated, I just wanted to walk out. In fact, I did walk out early. I can't remember the last time I did that.

Let's just say I'm not feeling very fired up for tonight's Faith Formation Class. Luckily, this idiot is only in charge of passing out the M & M's.

Whereupon I hang up my apron....

This "healthy" stuff is for the birds.

How do you break the cycle of unhealthy eating? Anybody got a vegetable tip? I've got four kids and I'm down to three vegetables, with corn being on the cusp of being a vegetable anyway and none of the three veggie choices I have are universal within the family.

I grew up just this side of chubby, but once I hit sixth grade and sports, it remained under control through my school years. But I grew up in a family where we never met a vegetable that couldn't be fried. Including spinach. You think I'm lying, but I'm not. We were a family of contridictions, we fried our vegetables, but never ate white bread, only wheat. Had cream gravy with two out of three meals, but no sugar cereal or poptarts. You always had to eat three bites of every thing on your plate, including brussel sprouts (not fried).

Charlie on the other hand, grew up in a family with eight brother and sisters and once the food hit the table, it was gone. He doesn't really understand the concept of left-overs, and "Friday night leftover buffet" ? Forgetaboutit. He reports liver as the only thing he can remember that didn't get eaten. He says you had to be at home when his Mom brought home the groceries, or you didn't have a hope in hell of having a bowl of Frosted Flakes.

So we don't have a firm food policy. As in most things we seem to be navigating on the fly. When Ace and Peach went for their 3 and 4 year old checkups recently, they were both in the 90th percentile for height and the 95th percentile for weight as were Melee' and John at that age.

Mom and I have been trying to crack down and keep the kitchen on lockdown and trying to plan healthier meals, but to be truthful, we might not know what we're doing. This week she's told me I need to get the kids totally off of dairy and that we should cut the carbs. Tonight we planned Pork Roast, baked sweet potatoes and salad. Pork, the other white meat, right? Then when we fixed the kids potatoes I was looking in the cabinet and she said "What are you looking for?" "The cinnimon/sugar." "What for?" "The potatoes." "Well doesn't that negate any good you might be doing?" "Well, what good am I doing if they won't eat it?" "Just put butter and salt and pepper on them." "They won't eat them." Both of us giggling to ourselves.

Melee': "You're not putting those on my plate are you?"
Me: "Yep."
Melee' "How much do I have to eat?"
Me: "I don't know, we'll see."
Peach: "OH! I don't want those on my plate."
Me: "Oh, taste them, they're nice and sweet."
John: "You're not giving me salad are you? You're just wasting it. I'm not going to eat it."
Nana: "Let me just get them all some cottage cheese."
Me: "Isn't that dairy?"
Ace: "I want meeaalk."

Twenty minutes later I put most of what was on their plates down the disposal.

The walks have been really good, but the food? Well, the stress of it just makes me want to eat something.

Exercise in Futility

"I've got a plan." she says. "When I get there, we'll start doing our walkies. We'll get everybody up at 6:00, load up the little ones in the stroller and then everybody will get their exercise and nobody will be late to school."

"Okay Mom, sounds good. I'll wait till you get here so you can tell them all about it."

Day One:

Out of bed we all stumble, groggy and somewhat disagreeable. Dressed, we go out and after a short fight over who will be the holder of the flashlight, we air up the tires on the stroller and off we go.

"John. Quit swinging that flashlight all around. Just point it down on the ground so cars can see us."

More quiet walking, John moves out front hoping to be out of reach of further instructions. Nan matches his pace and offers up lots of optimistic encouragement. "You guys are doing great! Swing those arms now! Get that heart rate up!"
"JOHN. DON'T FLASH THAT RIGHT IN THE EYES OF THE ONCOMING CARS! Melee"! Hurry up, you're falling behind and it's dark, I can't even see you."

The whining begins.

"You're going too fast.. I'm thirsty.. I'm tired.. "
"Here hold on to this stroller strap. You need to stay up with us."
"You're going too fast."
"Melee'! Come on now, you play baseball three days a week and have p.e. at school, you're in better shape than me!"
"It's too early."
"Come ON! Keep walking, that's not a ski rope, I can't pull you."

We let Ace loose for the sprint up the street, where he jogs while I try to keep up with him, pushing Peach as they giggle for the next twelve houses, until some grouchy older brother turns and yells, "I beat you, I beat you." and Ace starts screaming at the top of his lungs, prompting neighbors to peek out their windows to see who is murdering my child.

Day Two:

5:55 a.m. I'm up getting two toddlers dressed and there is much dissension in the ranks. By the time we get out the door, John is so mad he's setting the walking pace at an unattainable level for the rest of us. Melee' has brought his own water bottle and a CD player but his humor has not improved. The Peach has been outfitted with tunes so that she and Ace will quit elbowing each other for forty minutes. We're walking in a long caravan around the circle that winds around our neighborhood. As we drift toward the three-quarter mark and round a parked car, a car comes down the road and gives a quick honk, I wave a big friendly Hi-Ho and Melee' says "Who's that?" "I think it was Miss Chase." John yells back over his shoulder "NO it wasn't!" "Well, we'll see if her car's there when we get home." We turn the corner to go up our street and as per the plan, we let the littles out of the stroller so they can join in on the exercise. Ace jogs the whole way home, on the center stripe of the street, falling only twice. We get home and sure enough Miss Chase's car is in the driveway. "Hmm" I puzzled, "do you think that car honked at us because they didn't see us?" "DUH MOM!" John answers.

Day Three:

Peel four sleepy grumpy kids out of bed by 6:15. I decide that if Melee' will ride his Razor scooter we'll call it exercise anyway. There's less talk, and less drag, they are excited we have the weekend off. I realize while walking behind Ace that he looks like a penguin when he runs. A really cute penguin.

Day Four:

Monday the holiday. We decide to leave the grumpy pre-teens home and go at a more reasonable 7:00. We have a totally enjoyable 40 minutes. Turn the corner for home, let the toddlers out of their buckles, Ace hits the pavement running and falls down after five paces and busts open his knee, because his mother forgot to put on his long pants. I rescue him and put him back in the stroller, right about the time two big labs accost us out of nowhere. Peach is screaming, Nana's panicking (wondering why I threw away that "Worst Case Scenario" board game) and the Chocolate Lab has Ace's foot in his mouth. In a playful kind of way, not a rabid dog kind of way. Nana takes over the stroller while I try to wrangle the dogs as she yells "PEACH, just keep walking. Quit turning around! No crying! No screaming!" I corralled the dogs in my back yard, where they remain.

Day Five:

Light sticks.

One broke before we got outside.

It was Melee's.

The second stick broke right as Ace starts his run for the house.


Full steam ahead....












loosing steam fast.....












taking a break on the curb....









view of a boy pushed to his limits, pulling on his Momma's leg beseeching her, "Hold me Momma, hold me."


Imagine the calories I've burned just writing this down.....

With a Face Like That...

LOOK AT THAT FACE! I CAN'T TAKE IT! CAN YOU? I mean, can you? Sure, he looks sweet enough. All fun and games, right? ABSOLUTELY! Like when he stalks me in the morning, before I've brushed the hair off my teeth, chanting relentlessly, "Momma. Momma. Momma. Momma. I want some meeeeaaaaalllk. I want some meeaalk. Momma, Momma, Momma, Momma..." Or when you come into the computer room to discover that he knows just enough to get to the SpongeBob SquarePants Download page on the Internet. Oh! And how bout when he takes off running out the door at the Mother's Day Out because he's small enough to duck under the clog of toddlers and Mommies and strollers and backpacks, and just as you think he's gonna stop and let you help him into his side of the car, he takes off running around the giant Suburban while you run after him screaming, "ACE! STOP!! AAACCE, I MEAN IT!!! THERE'S CARS IN THE PARKING LOT!!! STOP!" Each of you standing at opposites ends of the car doing the bob-and-weave trying to fake each other out. Then you're so tired that when you finally get him strapped in to his car seat, you let his sister give the lecture. "Peach, why do we not run in the parking lot?" "Because there are cars in the parking lot. And they could run over you. And you might want to hug Momma, but you can't, cause your dead." And also, now when you change his diaper, he fights you and yells at the top of his lungs, "DON'T TOUCH MY PARTS! DON'T TOUCH MY PARTS!" , due to a grab-handy pediatrician who went a little too fast during the examination of the privates and discovered Mom wasn't being as arduous in some of the bathtime requirements as might be necessary. And so you spend a good thirty minutes of your day begging for forgiveness for being a total looser and "I'm NOT going to touch your parts, please keep it down honey, the neighbor's can hear you."

Oh don't get me wrong, he still lets me play "tickle your nose with my nose" and gives kisses when you ask and says "I want to hug you." in this cute little way that sounds like he might be an immigrant who just learned english, or Dracula. Still, he's prone to throttling his sister, throwing blocks and has a wicked pout face with crossed arms. But today I found where he hid my memory stick. I guess I'll keep him.