Literally

Lastborn lost a tooth last night. The biggest fear among all children of tooth-loosing age is that the tooth will get lost and the tooth fairy will not be able to swap for the desired money. He constantly worries when a tooth gets to a certain level of wobbliness that he will swallow it or drop it down the sink.

Well of course, while Dad was brushing his teeth last night, the latter happened. Like a scene in slow motion, the tooth tinkled around and around in a circle around the sink drain and then, without warning, changed direction and disappeared down the drain, never to be seen again.

Thinking quickly, Daddy informed Lastborn that he could just write a note for the tooth fairy and she would still deliver the loot. So, with great industry and the kind of focus that is never shown to schoolwork, Lastborn sat down and penned the following:

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I lost my tooth, literally.

Love, Eddie

ap-cray

That's pig Latin for crap. That was my day yesterday.

It started with a Team Manager for DI calling to quit. And I couldn't even get angry at her because she's really sick. She's doing the right thing, but for a while, I thought I would need to be the team manager for her group.

Then, in checking on what I had ordered for Christmas for my sister, I discovered that all of my Amazon orders had been sent to Tewksbury. Oh Man!!!

I, of course, discover this 3 minutes before I had to be outside to meet the kids bus. So I couldn't begin the phone tag required to re-route the packages somewhere more useful.

So out I headed to the bus at 2:35 only to step into a giant pile of doggy doo as I was crossing my yard. And I mean giant! I've never seen such a giant pile of ap-cray! Right in the middle of my yard. I'm sorry dog owner, but there is no way you could have missed your dog producing such a giant pile. Could you not have just picked it up? Please, let me know where you live and I will send my children over to your yard to squat down and dump a load.

So, I survived. I was able to call the Tewksbury postmaster who calmed and soothed me, and told me that she would contact the route driver and see if they could find the packages. I was able to get most of the poo off my shoe in time to attend a wonderful little neighborhood party around the corner, where we exchanged ornaments and cookies and had wonderful conversation, and fortuitously, the regional director of DI was there and told me she had a couple who still wanted to be team managers. The glass of Sirah at the party was helpful as well.

Today will be a better day.

What's that I smell?

Oh yes. It must be the testosterone.

Living in a household full of menfolk certainly does bring it's share of manliness. This usually comes in the form of constant obsession with weapons and weaponry.

You've heard that team "A man's home is his castle?" Well we take that too far here. Instead of a nice umbrella stand in our front entry, we have a nice weapon stand.

Where there aren't weapons, there are tiny green and tan commandos hiding in my plants and Christmas tree. Just the other day, I saw the Bionicles leading an attack in the family room with a division of characters from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in formation backing them up. Who knew that Rudolph and his gang were such warriors.

And one of these days, I have to snap a picture of Firstborn heading out to protect his woods. With his wooden hand and a half sword down the back of his shirt, his bow strung across one shoulder and quiver across the other, and a plastic dagger down his pants. Oh - and a 5 foot long stick.

We feel safe.

Scarlet O'Harra Would be Proud

The past few weeks have been filled with purchasing details for the new house. Among the important details, curtains ranked high on the list. You may have seen the HGTV commercial on house buying tips. "Tip #x: When purchasing a home, leave enough money for window treatments."

After a few days of changing in our walk-in closet, we decided to get curtains for the bedroom. Good idea. Then we put up some curtains from our old bedroom in the living room. The Family room and kitchen already had curtains. The boys rooms came quickly after and finally, I found the perfect set of curtains for my office. They are a green velvet with a vine pattern impressed on it, the whole thing trimmed with a green brocade.

I know that my sister will have a comment for them. Something along the lines of "they look like something Scarlet O'Harra would have made a dress out of." I'm sure my family know exactly which sister I'm speaking of.

I just thought I would use this post to head her off at the pass.

Spookey

Now that the world has moved on to Christmas, I thought I would share our Halloween experience.

First, there were the jack-o-lanterns.

Firstborn chose, outlined and cut this:

A nice intricate design that challenged his carving abilities and really reflected his view of the season.

Then Lastborn chose this one:

Again, just perfect. This is Lastborn's view of just about every season. This is why we secretly refer to him as Frat boy. Kudos to Lastborn for doing almost all the tracing and carving. He's growing up.

It was a wonderful night. The temperature was in the 60s and the sun was out until 7pm because the time change was moved to the following weekend. Most of the neighbors were out on their front lawns to give out candy and there was a party atmosphere. I heard that one cul-de-sac off our road set up tables near the main road and had all the homeowners out at the tables. So the kids didn't even have to walk up to the houses. They did one-stop-shopping instead.

Firstborn has made many friends including Mrs. M. Mrs. Ms house backs onto the ravine behind our house. Apparently, her sons played out in the woods for years. One son is in Jr. High and the other is in HS. So she is only too aware of the imaginary powers of these woods. She made a point to tell Firstborn to be sure to stop by her house because she was giving out full size candy bars. Firstborn has even played with her kids a little though they are a bit old for the woods. He is drawing them back in with is fort-building and imagination.

The highlight costumes were two teenage girls dressed as the teletubbies and three teenage boys dressed as Mario, Luigi and Waluigi. The Mario brothers even acted the part. Running randomly around yards and jumping up to bop their heads on tree branches, just like the characters in the video game. They even carried a tape player playing the theme song. Very creative. Of course they got extra bite size Hershey bars.

Lastborn pooped out about halfway through the neighborhood. He wanted to come home and sit on the couch in front of the TV eating candy.

In the end, we had enough candy to cover the neighborhood and the boys filled my biggest Tupperware bowl with more candy than you can imagine. They definitely like this neighborhood.

The heathen!

Well, I dragged the family to church this Sunday. Lastborn is getting his first communion this year and I felt that it would make his life much easier if he were actually exposed to church before the actual first communion date. So with much whining and complaint, I cleaned the three boys up (yep, DH too) and dragged them with me to mass. I couldn't get DH going any earlier than the 11AM service (and then he had the gal to complain about how late we were done).

It was a very different church for us. Very modern with high ceilings, large windows and very little adornment. The holy water was in a large modern fountain in the middle of the lobby. And yes, DH did feel the need to explain to the boys that they were neither to play in the fountain nor throw coins into the fountain.

There was no direct entrance to the church from the parking lot, you had to walk through another building. So we were entering feeling pretty vulnerable and out of place.

We sat down in a pew near the back hoping to not be noticed and the kids behaved rather well overall. I was beginning to relax.

Then came communion. I asked Lastborn if he wanted to go up with me or stay alone in the pew. He decided to come with me as he usually does. So we walk up to the altar with Lastborn in front of me, Firstborn in front of him. We get to the Eucharistic minister (I was smart enough to pick a Eucharistic minister instead of the priest. Whew!), and Lastborn puts out his hand for a piece of the host. He's obviously not following the prescribed rules for accepting the host, so the minister knows immediately that he's not had his first communion.
So, I push him gently to the side and approach the minister myself.

Not good enough. Lastborn pushes his way back and tries to reach into the challis. Oh my. I don't know what he was thinking. However, I do think that when I told him that he was getting his first communion this year, that he thought it meant immediately. He was determined and when the minister said no to him, he looked at her with the most accusing eyes. So then the minister offered to bless him and he suddenly got scared and tried to run off.

So, I have decided that the whole reason why Catholics bring their kids to church every single Sunday is so that they can avoid the embarrassment of being exposed as seldom visitors when they actually do show up and their kids do something like jump into the holy water fountain or shout out "why can't I have one?" at the top of their lungs.

Pig Latin

Lastborn has become an expert in Pig Latin. He is now holding classes with the 2nd grade at recess.

Worshiping from afar

We are Sox fans. It's not that we want to be. We were born that way.



You don't realize how much a part of the landscape sports teams are until you change your landscape. Yes, the game was on each night the Sox played. It was a big thing in the playoffs when they were playing Cleveland. And it felt strange that while we were watching the playoffs, we were hearing fight songs from Cleveland instead of the stuff we are used to hearing from Boston.



But then the Sox won and we heard nothing. Nothing! Can you imagine? No recaps of Game 6. No wallowing in our 2004 win and the reverse of the curse. In fact, no mention of a curse was heard on the radio airwaves here in Dayton.



It was a strange silence.



At this point, I can admit, I'm not a big sports fan. It is really something I partake of more because I can't get away from it than that I have any particular interest in it. I watch playoff games and series games when the Sox are in because otherwise, my husband and I would not see each other, and because they usually knock off the air the most interesting shows. So, what else is there to do?



So I watched the games from afar this year. Not all of them. Usually only until 9 o'clock when my short sports attention span would quit on me. They were good games. Even a bit entertaining.



But again, there was silence the next day. No post-game recaps. No comparisons to previous series. No jokes in between news stories on the local news. No Red Sox day at school to support our home team. Of course, all of this is to be expected. After all, I'm not in Massachusetts any more. But, it still felt strange to not hear constant coverage of what Manny is doing and how Lester was having such a comeback after his health issues. Just silence.



Except for Jordan's Furniture. They made the national news on Public Radio. Leave it to Elliot to figure out a way to parlay the Red Sox win into national advertising for his regional store. Good ole' Jordan's Furniture and Underprices.



Go Sox!!

Amazon knows too much

I was just up at Amazon updating my wish list for Christmas.

I thought I was pretty cool. My music choices are pretty hip and new.

It was suggesting other music that I also like, even a book I was interested in buying.

but then it suggested ...


The Wisdom of Menopause: Creating Physical and Emotional Health and Healing During the Change, 2nd Edition
by Christiane Northrup

How? How did it know. I'm not some young, hip college kid into cutting edge music. I don't have a page on myspace.com. I'm a 40 something mother contemplating menopause. It's a little scary.

I love Mr. Clean

The magic erasers that is. Did you know they take black walnut stains out of off-white carpet?

I refuse to think about what is actually in these little wonders. They got my carpets clean, that's all that matters.

The tooth fairy gets impaled while retrieving a tooth

I've been very busy with work deadlines and not writing half the stories I want to write. But, I'll take a minute for this one because it is just too rich.

Last night, Lastborn was working on a loose tooth. He worked so hard, the tooth was bleeding quite a bit. This scared him. But he kept working on it. I told him that if he wanted to, he could leave it be a while, and try again later.

"But what if it falls out while I'm sleeping. Won't I choke?"
"No," I replied, always the voice of reason. "It's too small to choke on. More likely you'll swallow it. Then you'll have to wait until the next day when you poop to get the tooth to give to the tooth fairy."

He looked sideways at me, a little worried. Then he replied. "No way! Will you get it out of the toilet for me?"
"No!!! I don't do that."

Noticing that he looked really worried now, I offered him this consolation.
"Don't worry, the Tooth Fairy fetches teeth out of the toilet if she needs to."
He wasn't buying it though and he kept working on the tooth convinced that he had to get it out right now! And of course he did.

That's when it hit me. We just bought a loft bed for his room with a double bed underneath. The idea here being that we want lots of places for long distance guests to stay with us, he would love to sleep in a loft bed and we should have room for sleepovers as well.

What was I thinking? On top of this, the order got messed up and the mattress for the double bed never came. Instead, there's just a bunkie board. Not enough for me to walk on to get to Lastborn's pillow. Yes, his pillow is on the wall side of this behemoth contraption. And the bunkie board is a bunch of thin slats of wood on a wooden frame all surrounded by a cloth cover. Each slat is not strong enough to take the weight of a person standing on it. It's meant to have a mattress on it.

DH immediately saw the dilemma when he came home later and I told him that Lastborn was now sleeping with a tooth under his pillow.

"Well where did he put it?" he asked.
"Under his pillow of course," I replied.

DH rolled his eyes as if I should have come up with a better plan.
"I tried. I told him that he should put it at the foot of his bed so the Tooth Fairy could get it more easily, but he insisted that she can fly just fine to his pillow."
"Well, did you at least see where he put it?"
"Of course. I made him show me. It's in the middle of his pillow."
"Well, I'm not dealing with it," was all he replied. Then a minute later. "I can just see this. You're going to come crashing down while trying to find the tooth. We haven't even been here a month and we're already gonna end up at the emergency room."

Such faith.

So at bedtime, I fished a crisp dollar out of my wallet and climbed the stairs to Lastborn's room. I turned on the hall light and crept into his room. Very carefully, I stepped onto the frame of the bunkie board to approach the head of his bed. Suddenly a sharp jabbing pain hits my toe. It feels like I've just been stabbed with the end of a staple. I can't scream.

With the other foot, I step forward to position myself closer to his pillow. My right toe is still stapled to the bunkie board. It's fairly dark even with the hall light. There's just enough light to see outlines.

He's sleeping facing the hall, head centered right over the tooth. Not good. I reach my hand carefully under his pillow and then I think I see his eyes open. It's too late for me to duck down and with my arm wedged between the bars of his loft bed, I probably can't maneuver myself low enough to be hidden anyway.

"Are you awake?" I ask innocently.

After a pause, he says, "No." and closes his eyes again.

"Well, I'm just going to pull your covers up a bit" I say. Weak excuse. I reach up with my other hand over the bars and pull up his cover while reaching for the plastic baggie that holds the tooth with my right hand under his pillow.

Feeling very smart right now, I begin to retract my right hand from under his pillow, only to find that it's stuck at the elbow between the bars. A little wiggling and my now-bruised elbow is free and I slip the dollar under his pillow with no further interruptions.

Remember, my right toe is still attached to the bunkie board with a staple.

I carefully step backwards finding the frame of the bunkie board with my left foot. Slowly I detach my right toe from the bunkie board. and step onto the carpet.

The white carpet! Am I bleeding?

Thankfully, no. I limp downstairs to tell DH all about it. I'm very proud now. No crashing. No ER visits. No blood. But my toe hurts like hell.

Little Mound

I've been chomping at the bit to find some of the parks in town. There are many as most Ohio towns try to conserve green spaces for common use.

The Little Mound park is around the block from us and was first on my list to check out. This area of the state is well known for it's Native American earthen works. The one in our neighborhood is not one of the well known mounds, but it is still very interesting to see close up. Makes me want to journey to see the serpent mound.

Along with the big hill that the kids like to climb on and run down (I hear it's great for sledding in the winter as well), there is also a small play park. Swings, climbing structures and a couple of benches for mom. All in all it's pretty great.

Just a question for my readers: If you lived next door to a great park like this, would you invest in a swing set in your back yard?

Light switches

Most of this house has no overhead lighting. The kitchen has it and the hallways, but none of the rooms. The builder was nice enough however to make an outlet in each room controlled by a light switch. Some are controlled by a few light switches.

The problem is figuring out which outlet is controlled by the light switch so that we don't have to go stumbling into a room to find a light to turn on. It took us 2.5 weeks to find the outlet in the family room. We have found the one in Ken's room, but we are still stumped on all the other rooms.

How you know your a buckeye

Most of the time, the move seems to have not really happened. It's like I have a new house, but I still live in Tewksbury. I work in my house, so I don't get out much. And really, things aren't so different here. But occasionally, I will see a sign that reminds me I'm not in Tewksbury any more. I'll summarize.

Signs at the entrance to an interstate reading "No pedestrians or slow moving farm vehicles."
The RMV is the BMV.
No deposit, No returns.
Rush hour lasts about 10 minutes.
I bought wine at Walmart. And it wasn't half bad.
And the number one indicator that we aren't in Tewksbury anymore:
We went to a sports bar for lunch today. The football game was on. The bar was fairly full for a Saturday afternoon at 1pm. Every one was dressed in red, with Buckeyes logos on everything. Some people were wearing necklaces-red and white beads and then these huge brown beads. The brown beads were actually buckeyes (not the chocolate type).

And, yes, they had corn hole tables there.

The children have not yet picked up the twang (and don't let DH tell you they don't have one here), but I suspect that Lastborn will be able to turn a great twang by Christmas.

new math

Lastborn is pretty certain I'm 25 years old. I don't do a lot to dispel this myth, but I have never started this myth either.

Tonight, Lastborn asked me how old I was when I got married. I told him 24. He thought for a minute and said, "you've only been married one year?"

Yep that's right.

Then I thought for a bit and realized that I was indeed 26 when I got married. So that means I got married next year. This made him think for a minute and then he said, "Ah. You're a time traveller!"

I think he might have figured out that I'm not 25 at this point.

Neighborhood Life

Well, there are certainly a lot of kids in this neighborhood.

Next door is an 8 year old boy, and he has a step brother who visits some weekends. We don't see them much because both parents work.
Across the street there is a 10 year old boy, a 6 year old boy and a 9 year old girl. In the cul de sac across the street there is another house with a 12 year old boy, a 10 year old boy and a 10 year old girl.
At the end of the cul de sac is another 7 year old boy and his 7 year old sister. And there are a couple of other girls around the neighborhood.

Every day, kids are knocking on our door to play with both boys.

The 10 year olds all play in our back yard in the woods. It's the hot spot of the neighborhood. They would spend all day out there regardless of the weather. They come in dirty and tired and so happy. Currently, their project is to build a fort in the woods using sticks and branches. We will have to send pictures once they get the structure working.

Stepford

Maybe it's because kids are so well mannered in Ohio.

Maybe it's because most houses here are carpeted.

Maybe it's because this neighborhood is in the middle of a black walnut grove.

DH wanted to insist that the kids remove their shoes on entering the house. I think that's kind of rude to expect of visitors.

Every time a neighborhood kid enters our house, they either take off their shoes or ask us where they should leave their shoes. I'm amazed. And maybe a little scared.

The Trees are Alive!!!!

Remember I mentioned the beautiful forested lot on which our new house resides? Well, all good things come with a downside don't they?

Most of the trees are black walnut trees. And black walnut trees make walnuts. Yesterday, the boys and I spent the morning picking them up so that DH could finally mow our lawn and relieve the worries that the neighbors are experiencing.

My first idea was to send the boys out there to pick up the nuts. Firstborn did go out at about 8:30 and try, but the squirrels, suspicious of his behaviour, started throwing nuts at him. So, he came in quickly, giving up the fight.

It took us a couple of hours, and Lastborn, who has an easier time sitting on the ground (and then getting back up), became quite stained from the black walnut skins he was sitting in. We must have picked up three bushels and still there were more.

Too bad the kids don't like walnuts.

Just east of the center

Lastborn: I know where Ohio is on the map. It's just east of the center.

Wood stove looking for new home.

Come quickly. We will need to find a trash site if we can't find a home.

And yes, we will clean out the ashes that are currently in it.

Mico

Today, I went letterboxing with the boys again. We were searching for remcat's two new boxes located near the Mico Kaufman statues in Tewksbury.

In our 8 years here in Tewksbury, we have driven past these statues so many times. They are really part of the scenery for us. The boys take little notice of them and I thought it would be great for them to see the statues up close before we left. My plan is to take pictures of various sights around town for a scrapbook that the boys can take into school with them when the start in the new school. It's also a book we can look at as a family when we are feeling homesick. These statues play a big part in the book, so going for the boxes at them was a twofer in our mind.

The first statue we visited was of Helen Keller and Annie Sullivan.

Annie Sullivan was born in Tewksbury to a poor Irish immigrant couple. When her mother died shortly after the birth of her younger brother, Annie's father felt forced to leave the children in the Tewksbury Alm's House. Annie and her brother both had an infection that killed the brother and left Annie blind. Due to her determination, Annie was able to go to school at Perkin's School of the blind, but being from a poor background, she would have to work once she graduated and where does a partially blind woman get work? Well, teaching Helen Keller of course. The statue depicts Annie teaching Helen her first word, water.

After collecting the box, we spent some time running around on the common and playing on the bandstand. The boys loved that.

Then it was on to S. Tewksbury to find the box at the fire station. We needed a good cover because there were guys surveying for the future move of what is affectionately known in that part of town as the pimp pole, a large obtrusive eyesore of a cell tower pole that was erected less than 30 feet from this statue. It was not easy taking this picture without the pole in the middle of it and I'm sure the angle I'm shooting is not the best angle for this shot. I also tried to get the boys to stand in such a way as to look like they were hanging off the hose, but they weren't listening very well.

Our efforts to find the box were derailed when a group of three hikers walked into the area. They ended up sitting right where I was sure the box was located. I suspect they were also boxers. But I didn't know the secret handshake at that point and asking if they were boxers would sort of give it away, wouldn't it? So we left promising to come back some other time.

After giving up on the muster box, we crossed the street to check out the statues at the Methodist church. This one is called Touching Souls. The children sit with the souls of their feet touching. Each child has the clear facial features of a different ethnic background. The boys are playing duck-duck-goose in this picture.


We had a great time and checked off the list one item we had wanted to complete all summer; get pictures of Tewksbury landmarks that we want to remember.

Our new house

Due to popular demand, we are including pictures of the new abode in Ohio!

The living room.

The entry

The great back yard for the boys to play. We are talking about erecting a tree house in this stand of trees.

There are 4 bedrooms, 2 full baths upstairs and a large family room downstairs.

literally

Dh asked Lastborn to go into the kitchen, in the cabinet under the sink, and get a single white plastic bag from the box he would find there.

First, Lastborn went into the kitchen and grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the table where the remains of the last shopping trip still sat. Why go through the effort of looking under the sink when there were bags on the table? We use these bags to line our trash cans, so it made sense.

"No," DH said, "from the box under the sink. Go back and try again."

Lastborn returned to the kitchen and got a white plastic bag from under the sink. This one had stuff in it.

DH scratched his head and carried it back into the kitchen to see where Lastborn had gotten this bag. DH was expecting a folded up plastic bag from the box of new plastic trash bags under the sink. He didn't think that the garbage can stored under the sink is also a box and it also contained a single, white plastic bag. Literally

There should be a law

Against teachers who request that parents send liquid soap into school with their first and second grade kids...


And then don't check every backpack to make sure all the soap has been turned in before said first and second graders get back on the bus.

Would you like to hear this story?

Law of conservation of Rs

Years ago, my brother in law coined the phrase the law of conservation of Rs when referring to the Massachusetts accent. Everyone has heard the typical pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd refrain when picking on Bostonians, but few understand that natives are not just throwing those Rs away out of lack of respect for the power of the letter. Neigh, for every R dropped from the end of a syllable, another is placed on the end of a word where most other regions would not notice the R.

You Californians don't have the subtlety to assess the need for an R at the end of the names Rita, Anna, or Emma, but Bostonians, well, they're all about subtlety.

But something always bothered me about the law of conservation of Rs. The added R is not a universal rule in all of Massachusetts. Many regions in the state drop their Rs but don't add them to other words. For years, I was haunted by the worry of what happened to those R or how we could exist with the equation being unbalanced in this way.

But now, I can rest comfortably, for I have found the missing Rs.

Where? You ask? In Ohio!
We soon will be moving to the land of the refugee Rs. Our new address will be in Warshington Township. However, since those in Ohio can take subtlety like those in Boston, it is spelled Washington Township.

This will require some study on my part. You see, I spend lots of time translating spelling words because my sons tend to spell what the teacher says and their teachers are always adding and dropping Rs. Discovered this on a test where firstborn correctly spelled the name Connor. But the word was supposed to be corner. :-) Now, when we go over spelling words I test them both on the correct and the Massachusetts pronunciations.

premarital

The other day, we were in a restaraunt; me and the boys. I had picked them up from camp late because lastborn had a field trip that he was not arriving back from until late. When we have these late camp nights, I'd rather go out than make them wait for me to fix something hot.

Lastborn had a sticker on his arm when I picked him up. I asked if he had put the sticker on his arm or if a friend had. His response was just "no."
"No?"
"No."
"Well, how did it get there?" (the obvious question)
"A girl put it on me."
"Oh, a girl put the sticker on you? Do you think maybe she did that because she likes you?"
"No. She just put the sticker on me."

So of course, Firstborn and I started picking on him.
"She must really like you." I said.
"I bet she wants to kiss you," Firstborn said.

Lastborn took all this pretty well with no anger or frustration. So Firstborn kept pushing until I had to pull him back a bit.

"You know, Firstborn," I said. "Girls are going to start being interested in you soon. What are you going to do if one of them wants to kiss you?"

Firstborn responded with great determination.

"Everyone knows, mom, that you don't kiss unless you have been going out for at least 4 years." He said.

"Oh. Is that how it works?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "And besides I believe in premarital."

Can you guess my response?




"What?" I spluttered, not quite controlling my reaction. And then, calming down a bit and taking a breath, I continued.

"Do you know what that means?"
"Sure."
"What do you think that means?"
"It means you don't kiss until after you are married."
"Is that right? OK. We'll go with that."

So much to blog, so little time

Heard from the backseat:

"everyone is a good dancer when they have to pee."

Conversations at Ecumenical Bible School

Each year, I direct the local ecumenical bible school. Our town is quite unique in this bible school. Four churches from four separate denominations get together to put on the bible school and we hold it on the property of the largest church, the Catholic church. This affects the dynamics of the school. well, for the adults maybe. The kids seem to have no idea what church the others come from, nor do they care.

One of the greatest things about working this VBS is seeing the interactions of the adults as they come in contact with a denomination for which they are not familiar. Every year, some conversation ensues about differences. They are usually light-hearted and interesting. By far, while the Catholics make up the largest population of the school, they are most often the center of these conversations. The strong tie to ritual and tradition makes them stand out among the Methodists, Congregationalists, and Baptists.

This year, our house sale was the focus of one of those conversations. Some of the staff asked how the house sale was going. Of course, I told them of the almost 3 month struggle in this very tight market and how we were beginning to believe that we would never sell it this year.

One of the Catholic members asked if we had buried St. Joseph. Well of course, I replied. We purchased him, prayed to him and buried him head down near the front entrance of the house. But Joseph wasn't coming through for us.

The Baptists, Congregationalists, and Methodists were just listening with wide eyes. St. Joseph in the yard is not a tradition of their denominations.

One of the staff told us about how when she entered her new house for the first time they found a three foot, dirt covered statue of St. Joseph on her kitchen counter. Many of the Catholic women harrumphed. They were supposed to take him with them and put him in a prominent place in the new home.

My response was, "three foot tall? Ours is only three inches."
To which they all replied "that's your problem!" and "No wonder the house hasn't sold yet."

Even the non-catholics were able to jump in on this one. No matter what your denomination, size does matter.

I wonder how many of these non-Catholics will be burying St. Joseph next time they sell their house.

What's in Ohio?

Once again, I have come up with a new answer for the question everyone seems to ask me, "But what's in Ohio?

http://www.daytondailynews.com/l/content/oh/story/living/travel/2007/07/05/ddn070607goroadside.html?cxntnid=dlh-070607

I knew about the big basket, but the tin man? Big Butter Jesus? Shopping in a candle? What more could you want?

That Attic Smell

Attics are always a source of material for the imaginations of young people. Think about how many children's books take place in attics. Steamer trunks that lead to different worlds live in attics. Poor little girls living in boarding schools are relegated to attics and then saved by rich neighbors. You could even see the famous Wardrobe of C. S. Lewis hanging out in an attic (I know, it was in a room at the end of a hall, but you could imagine it being in an attic). I think it is more than the fact that kids can climb up there alone and explore. There is something about the smell of the wood heated and cooled by the outside air year after year, the "cathedral ceilings" as they are called by real estate marketers, and the deep recesses and shadows. Attics are just cool.

Grandpa's new house has an attic. And while it's a new house for him, it's not a new house to our family. This was the house my mother grew up in. And her bedroom is up in the attic. One, single room with a nice hardwood floor and a big double window carved out of an unfinished attic with wide sub flooring boards exposed, and cheap wood paneling hastily tacked up on the ceilings. It's a great place for kids. There are boxes to explore. They can all be together on one floor, but if they want to get away to some privacy, they go behind the bedroom wall in a corner to be alone. There is one bed set up outside of the bedroom. Grandpa refers to that as the dormitory. He has visions of the kids all sleeping up there on that bed and the cots and other blow up mattresses. I hope he can get some carpet up there soon so they can take their shoes off while they are up there. Right now it is sliver city. But they still love it. Its away from the adults. There is elbow room. It is very dorm like. And it captures their imagination.

I think they will very much look forward to staying at Grandpa's house. Even if that attic does get a little hot in the summer.

Letterboxing, part deux

This weekend, I ferried the team out to Schenectady to visit my father. My sister from Kansas City, KS is visiting him. We don't get to see them often, so their coming back to civilization is a great reason for a trip out to Sch'dy.

I decided to check out some letterboxes while we were there and I also thought that bringing the niece and nephew with us might be fun both for the boys and for the cousins. So we became scalzidragonfireballs + 2 from KS.

We checked out the boxes at Union College. There are 4. We found 2! We were uncertain of the clues for the first box and we forgot to even look for the fourth. The boys were a bit tired and I didn't want to push them too far, so after we found box number 3, we just went for ice cream and then home. The stamps were very well carved and I showed all the kids how the log books were hand made. We got to see how all the boxes were put together and now Firstborn has a good idea of what we are looking for.

Cousin J found the first box. She can be tenacious. And she was very creative in applying the clues to what we were actually seeing. Don't want to print a spoiler, but the clues could not be followed to a tee on box #2. So you had to use logic and she did that well. So did Firstborn, but I dissuaded him since he was giving a suggestion but not showing me his logic. Had he shown his thinking, I might have said, go ahead and try it. It just seemed like he was desperately grabbing at straws. Next time, I will be more patient and ask him to explain why he is looking in that area.

Firstborn was able to find box 3 quickly. We won't take away points for the fact that it was out in the open. :-) We will give him great points for being very discreet when he found it and not shouting with joy the way his face showed that he really wanted to. We wanted him to find Box #3 because I want him to be excited about this. So when we were reading the prescribed plaque and he couldn't figure out how to pronounce the word Schenectady (he was looking at it upside down), I made a big show out of making him come around to my side of the stone to read it. As he came around the stone, he couldn't help but see the box. The whole time cousin J and cousin B were smiling over his head at me because they had seen it. Lastborn was totally oblivious as he usually is. But he mostly participates in letter boxing for the social aspect anyway.

Once we stamped in, I asked Firstborn to re hide the box "better than he found it." Silly me. He headed back into a pile of brush to "hide it good." so I had to explain to him that this phrase means to use the same spot, but cover the box more thoroughly.

We did have fun and cousin B thinks he would really like to look up some boxes in the Kansas City area.

While the kids did enjoy their ice cream at Stewart's afterward, I don't think that the ice cream was the highlight of the day.

It was so nice for me to have an organized way to show the kids the Union College campus, the Nott Memorial, Jackson's Gardens, and so many other sights in the area. We could see St. John's church from the distance though none of the kids could recognize "Grandma's Church." So that was a fun thing to do as well. Then I told them about how Aunt P and Uncle L had been married in that church and I pointed out the Union College building where they had their reception and told them about how Aunt P had a bagpiper lead us all as we marched across Union Avenue (4 lanes of traffic) to the building at Union College and how traffic had to stop for our little parade of about 100 people.
I pointed out the Dorms and how they are all called houses just like in Harry Potter. Firstborn even said he liked the campus and might be interested in going to College there "if only they had Chemistry there." Well of course Union offers Chemistry. So maybe he will be attending Union too. We only have to wait 8 years to find out.
So how many other college campuses have letterboxes hidden in them. :-) What a great way to start the kids thinking about going off to college.

Our first letterboxing attempt

This Sunday, we went out to find The Three Bears. We found none.

The boys were wary of the idea. I tried my best to explain it to them, but of course their young minds began to fill in the blanks and create great imaginary ideas of what it would be like. This worried me. I would like to do this as a way to share my interest in the outdoors and to be able to find our way around some of the little known areas of Dayton once we get there.

It's one thing to say, let's go check out X park. The boys often fight an idea such as that because they have no idea whether there will be something great there or whether it will be another boring place mom drags them to. With Letterboxing, I can say let's go to X park. I hear they have a letter box hidden there. We have a discrete purpose for our travels. Something to focus on.

So I was nervous going out. I also wanted DH to join us for the first excursion so that I could get a lay of the kind of land used in these things. Will it be safe for a woman and kids? Am I risking my kids? What happens if one of them gets tired. I'm certainly not in better shape than my kids are at this point. Maybe I'm setting myself up for a drastic situation. Worry! Worry! Worry!

The boys showed their true colors as we entered Vietnam Veteran's Memorial Park in Billerica. I've driven past this park many times and seen the RC planes flying around, but I have never actually entered the park. The boys were really excited to find the playground at the entrance to the trails. That was enough treasure to keep them happy for the whole day. But they condescended to tag along with mom into the woods to find the real point of our journey.

We followed the directions to the best of our ability. The clues lead you first to Pappa Bear's box. But we were uncertain when the clues told us to stop at the fallen tree with the orange marker after the third tree with an orange marker. Do you start counting the markers at the beginning of the orange trail or at the next marker? We started at the beginning, but I'm not sure that was right because we found no fallen tree with an orange marker. And frankly, that seems like an important piece because in the woods, there are lots of fallen trees.

We tried to use logic but things were just as cloudy. Which rock is Pappa Bear's boulder in a giant stack of boulders. Again, we tried to use logic. But to no avail. The idea of letterboxing is to hide the box in a way that disturbs nature as little as possible. Firstborn thought we needed a shovel. But that would have disturbed nature. I found what I thought was the perfect boulder for Pappa Bear and it would have been a great place to store a letterbox because there was a boulder below it, making it easy to stash a box between and cover it with leaves.

I tried using a stick to swipe under the boulder, but nothing was there. I was relieved that no wildlife came racing out to attack, but dissapointed that no box at least rattled around in there if not came flying out with the swipe of my stick. We tried "under" many big boulders. We dug under the leaves and I explained to the boys that a box should be under the brush, not under the dirt. There must be some sort of natural hole to hide it in and then camoflage it with leaves and sticks.

After about a half hour of looking and Lastborn tagging along saying these woods give me the creeps, we decided to leave Papa Bear's Box behind and see if Mama Bear wanted to visit with us. Apparently, Papa Bear is in a grouchy mood today. We followed a long trail over a hill and past many more stacks of boulders. I pointed out to the boys that these great granite outcroppings are a feature of the northeast and that we would see few of them around Dayton.

They were not impressed. Eddie was still talking about how creepy things were and Ken was still walking way too fast and getting way ahead. Meanwhile, I was trying to read through the clues and not trip over roots and rocks, and the mosquitoes were coming out as the sun seemed to dim more and more by the minutes. Mama Bear's box was supposed to be hidden behind a tree just off the path at the 4th yellow marker. Again, do we start counting at the intersection of the blue and yellow trails or after that one? It might have made a big difference. Because we pursued the only tree that even remotely fit the description of the tree in the clues, and we went behind it but found nothing that looked like a good hiding place. We walked around looking for a hole under the leaves. We moved leaves and twigs looking for a hiding place and we replaced everything so that no one would know we were there. Again, Firstborn wanted a shovel.
I suspect that if we went to the 4th marker and looked for a tree, we would have found a tree with a hole in the back of it, but the mosquitoes were getting hungrier and so were the boys. We gave up after 15 minutes of this and headed back to the car without making an attempt to find baby bear.

I expected the boys would give me a very hard time for our failed outing, but was surprised. They liked the hike even if the woods were creepy. Firstborn was certain that the clues were flawed and I tried to explain to him that we are very new at this and probably missed something.

They seemed even more intrigued after the hike than they were before. Well, Lastborn complained of being tired, which is to be expected considering he had attended a party at a zoo earlier that day and spent the entire time running around like a madman.

I mentioned to them that there are boxes hidden at Union College in Schenectady and that maybe we could go out with cousin J to see if we could find them. First born liked the idea. Lastborn was silent. So I suggested that Lastborn could stay home and I would go with Firstborn and J.

This morning, Lastborn asked if he could go to find the boxes at Union. He was nearly in tears. I told him of course he could. He thought I didn't want him along and I explained that he seemed like he didn't really have a good time. Well, I guess I was wrong.

Maybe it's a good thing that we didn't find our first boxes. I think it made the boys even more interested in finding boxes now that they know they are so well hidden.

Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?

Firstborn is very interested in foul language. He is enticed by the power of it. He wants to know all the words and of course we know he uses them around his 10 year old friends. But I am proud to say that he is usually proud enough to not use foul language around his parents or teachers (except in acrostic poetry).

Boy-next-door is also very curious. He is a bit better at keeping his mouth shut in dangerous situations though. A few months ago, I mentioned to his mother that Firstborn has been collecting nasty words because boy-next-door is "a collector" in Firstborn's terms. I think she felt threatened by this, though no threat was intended because she shot back at me that her son says that Firstborn knows more words for the F word than anyone he knows. This came as a bit of a shock to me at first and then it made sense. Apparently, some of the 4th grade boys were bragging that they knew the F word in Chinese and German and all kinds of other languages. Not that I would trust the veracity of their translations, but it all adds up.

So the other day in the minivan, Firstborn accused Lastborn of using a naughty word. It wasn't a terribly bad word and I explained that to the boys, but I also called Firstborn for throwing his brother in front of the bus like that.

"After all, Firstborn," I told him. Boy-next-door says you know more words for the F word than anyone he knows."

This silenced Firstborn just long enough for Lastborn to shout out, "Like B-E-E-P!"

Took me a moment to figure that one out. I almost had to pull of the road because of the laughter.

The Mario Bros. Boogie.

I've wanted to get Dance Dance Revolution for the kids since we bought them the GameCube a year and a half ago. But it is expensive and DH was convinced that the kids would never use it. The kids were pretty convinced too.

However, report cards came in. They both did relatively well. Lastborn made honor roll and Firstborn would have but for some social pressures that led to some less-than-perfect behavior. However, Firstborn came in second on most-pages-read for the year. Second wouldn't mean much if we wern't so convinced that the kid who came in first cheated.

Yes, he's been turning in his book forms on the last possible day for the last three semesters (Hmm. Are we waiting to see how much firstborn reads before we make up our number?). And this semester, he surpassed Firstborn by only 20 pages . Twenty pages turned in at the last minute. He confessed to Firstborn that he couldn't really tell which books he had read. He reads so many, you know. He has a hard time remembering which ones he has finished. Right. Shady character at 10 years old.

So to celebrate Firstborn's great reading, I purchased the DDR pad and ordered the discontinued DDR Mario Edition from a neighboring store that had it in stock. We had to wait until Tuesday night (3 days!) for it to come in.

Last night, I had Lastborn try it out. He was very reluctant and made me do the dances. Now there's a laugh. But I enjoyed the bit of a workout.

Eventually, Lastborn was addicted and trying every song.

Unfortunately, his little legs are easily tired by the task. It's a bit of a stretch between dance pad buttons. Before long, he was sitting in the middle of the pad smacking the buttons with his hand.

I think the point of the purchase was to get him up and exercising.

Rules are simply guidelines.

Firstborn and next-door boy also played for a while last night. The game is a hit.

Piano Recital

Like the horrible mother I am, I forgot my camera.

Firstborn had his first piano recital. It was nice to see how much ahead he was from the other kids who have started before him. One boy was taking for 2 years and another for 3 and Firstborn was playing ahead of them in the books.

Firstborn also turned out to be quite the clown. When the planned first player was unprepared to play first in the program, Firstborn stepped in. He's not the kind of kid to let a little nervousness stop him and I'd like to encourage that quality in him, so I offered him up to the instructor as first victim, I mean, performer. He gladly stood up for the cause and sat down to play. After all, he had no idea what he was supposed to do and he knew everyone knew that he was a newbie. He messed up a couple of times on his first piece and then played the rest of the program flawlessly, even adding an extra little stylized chord to the end of his last song.

And when he finished his solo pieces, he stood up for the applause, bowed and said, "Thank you. Thank you very much." in his best Elvis.

He came back into the room to play some duets with the instructor after intermission. Again, when the audience applauded, he bowed and did his Elvis bit. The audience loved it and one dad shouted out, "Firstborn has left the building." as Firstborn left the room.

He really enjoys his piano classes and his teacher enjoys him. So, it is a great fit.

Fine Dining in Beavercreek, OH

While the house is on the market, I find myself searching the Internet to find info on the communities we are looking at.

Searching for restaurants beavercreek oh returned this gem.

I am so looking forward to this.

Empathy

We have survived the great family milestone of having "the talk" with our eldest son. In fact, we have quite enjoyed it. Explaining to a 10 year old where babies come from can be quite fun if you remember your sense of humor. This age is so delicate. 10 year old boys think everything having to do with this is gross. And Firstborn was no exception. He revels in the fact that he is old enough to know these things, but it will take many months of therapy to get him over the horror of what he knows.

In fact, DH and I have to measure our joy in grossing him out. There's only so much therapy we can afford.

But this weekend, when Firstborn was being a normal mouthy 10 year old, DH made some comment about "I made you once I can get rid of you and make another?"

Firstborn responded with "Oh sick, don't remind me."

DH loved it. When he repeated the story to me, Firstborn had to chime in. "I know what you guys went through. I wouldn't want to put you through that again."

Hmmm. :-)

Books are killing our children

For the past few days, Firstborn has been sucked into the depths of Septimus Heap. He started the first book of the trilogy last summer and was quickly diverted back to Eldest in preparation for the Eragon movie. He wanted to have both books read before the movie came out in case they put some plot bits from Eldest into the movie. I'm loving his interest in reading the book before seeing the movie.

When he finished the first in the Septimus Heap series, we bought him the second because he seemed to enjoy the first quite a lot. By the time he launched himself into the second, we had lost him for good. Every second, this book is opened. He never fully closes it until he passes out at night. He walks around the house, book tucked under his arm, index finger marking his place. He brushes his teeth with brush in one hand, and book under the other arm. He eats with his finger in place. Placing a bookmark in the pages would take too much time from reading the book.

He has given up on our get ready by yourself challenge. The challenge was that if he proved to me he could get ready on his own in the morning with no nagging, he could start playing video games in the morning after he is ready and before school. He doesn't care anymore. He would rather read and be nagged.

That whole thing got me thinking. I know countless mothers who refuse to buy their kids game systems for fear that they will become addicted. I know countless more who routinely take the systems away from their kids because the kids can't control their obsessive desire to play. They can't understand why a child would give up outside playtime for a game system.

I know no mothers who feel the same way about books. It's acceptable in this world to roll your eyes skyward and say "That's just johhny. He loves his books." But no one feels the same way about gaming systems. Yet it is the same reaction I seen in Firstborn with his books. He is obsessed. He can't wait to read. His teacher threatens to take away his books until reading time.

The media has certainly done a good job of demonizing video games. You play too much and you will end up with CTS or tendinitis. You play too much and you'll get a blood clot! Have you ever heard of someone warning against reading in one position because you might get a blood clot? Never. I guess it's OK if a 10 year old dies from a stroke while reading because at least he was using his mind. Right? And believe me, if firstborn doesn't learn to use something other than his finger as a place marker, he is definitely gonna hurt some tendon somewhere.

It is very difficult not to react negatively to our children's obsessive compulsive behaviors. But it can be interesting when you put them into perspective.

Shock the chiropractor

Recently, Lastborn's teacher has begun a campaign to have him put on ADD drugs. Now, she is fully unqualified to do this and she knows just how far she can go in this pursuit. But luckily, so do I. Believe me, if I felt that he needed the drugs, I would put him on them.

However, recognizing that her job is not easy (remember, there is a reason I dubbed him Lastborn in this blog), I am pursuing ways of making her life more wonderful that stop short of placing him on meds. To that end, I attempted to bring him to a wonderful chiropractor. Not that I feel that chiropractic cures everything, but if his wriggling is the result of a sore spine, let's just get that fixed and move on with life.

Lastborn was far from the compliant patient. The whole experience left him so nervous that I was beginning to give those meds a second look.

He would not sit still, he would not listen. Overall, he presented worse than what the teacher was describing. While I joke about Lastborn's behavior, one of the reasons why he is still alive after these last 7 years is because he never acts this way for me.

Of course, a visit like this is bound to provide blog quotes. Isn't it?

The chiropractor had this wonderful life size replica of a spine with little rubber tubes standing in for nerves. Lastborn was fascinated and began asking questions. Was it real? Was it the spine of a snake? Did he remove that spine from one of his patients? The chiropractor was patiently responding to these questions and enjoying the whole interaction until Lastborn popped out the following quote:"

I saw a real spine once and I touched its wiener!

I looked over the table to where the chiropractor was covering his face with his hand, his body jerking slightly with suppressed laughter.

"Something tells me you don't hear that from all your patients." I said.

At that point, he lost all semblance of composure and told me that his wife should really get a look at this one.

That statement left me wondering if maybe he and his wife had a fight that morning and he was just thinking of a rare and unique way of getting her back or if he wanted to just share the "joy" of this rare child.

We'll find out next week. . .

Growing Up, Growing Out?

The problem with a kid like firstborn is that in his efforts to fit in and adapt to his world, data gets lost. On the one hand, this makes my life infinately easier. On the other, it makes his infinately harder.

Firstborn has always been able to come up with adaptive behaviors. So much so that before we had him professionally tested for SI, he didn't look much like an SI kid. And when we did look at behaviors, I would never have marked him as defensive. He seemed more seeking or mixed to me than defensive.

That was one of the wonderful things about testing. I was able to learn that some of his behaviors were covering up a deep defensiveness. Take for example the fact that Firstborn never commented on smells. It's not that he couldn't smell things. Quite on the contrary, he could smell only too well. But his lack of reaction or commenting on smells stemmed from his efforts to ignore something that bothered him.

Another example is in the handwriting arena. I thought he had good handwriting in K and first grade. Indeed, it looked very nice. The problem was, he was gripping the pencil really hard and pressing down really hard in order to numb his fingers so that he wouldn't have to feel the touch of the pencil. Hmmm. The imprint goes through 6 sheets of paper and the edges of the sheet curl up.

As Firstborn grows up, he learns new coping skills. It's easy to think he is growing out of this disorder. His nervous system is catching up or exposure to sensory input is increasing his ability to organize his reactions. I find, however, that I really need to be more aware and open with him, because in some cases, he is simply internalizing his differences and developing conclusions that might not be true.

Take yesterday, for example. One of our first really warm days and both boys were wearing shorts and short sleaved shirts. As a toddler, these transitions would bring one or two rough mornings as Firstborn struggled to organize in his brain the new input of the different clothing. Either he was feeling breezes on his hairs that he could neither ignore or reconcile or he was feeling the touch of fabric on his skin. I have not heard the complaints since he has been able to dress himself, but I do notice a reluctance to change seasons. I figured that the SI issues were the main reason for this, but he insisted that fashion was driving his clothing decisions.

Yesterday though, that cover was blown. He complained about his shorts being too short. They hung just above his knees. Shorter than the current fashion, but not short enough to be mocked by his peers. So I asked him why he thought they were too short.

"It feels funny," he replied. I can feel the wind on my hairs.

So I explained SI to him and why it made him feel funny. My hope is that in understanding what is going on with him, he can logically work his mind around some of the new sensations. I also hope that he will be able to communicate with me when sensory input is bothering him. I told him about when he was a toddler and would throw tantrums pulling his sleeved down to his wrists to avoid the feeling of air on his arms. He thought that was pretty funny.

So while he is growing up, he's not really growing out of SI.

I love freecycle

Fusebeads
Shelf unit
Golf shoes
Quilting material
babyfood jars
coffee cans
magazines on RC airplanes
A church pew


All things that have found a home on Freecycle in the past few months. This weekend especially we have been frantically freecycling. It is amazing what we have a hard time getting rid of. the baby food jars for example. Why we saved 2 boxes full of baby food jars is beyond me. They had 6 years of dust on them. DH was unwilling to part with them at first. But then when he heard the stories the recipients told him about why they were taking the items, he realized that it would be much better to give them away than carefully wrap hundreds of tiny jars for the move. After all, if he really finds he needs baby food jars once we get to Dayton, well, there's always Freecycle!

school projects

I know they mean well, multi-sensory learning and all that. But these projects have got to go. They become like viruses, spreading from one classroom to the next, from one elementary school to the next until they become the district project. And we parents spend our time connecting the contagion path until we find the source of the virus and heap our dislike on that particular teacher.

Case in point, the brown bear project in 4th grade. It started as a project where the kids had to write a book using the pattern of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See? A truly annoying storybook that all K teachers read. Only for the 4th grade project, they had to change the words to Washington, DC, Washington, DC, What Do You See? Altogether too much punctuation for one project. The book had to include pictures of at least 10 attractions in DC, at least 5 of which should be hand drawn by the budding genius.

OK, so it's neat. But my son had to do one in 3rd grade too. Revolution, Revolution, What Do You See? Oh come on. Though he did enjoy drawing pictures of bloody battles in which the only color used on the page was red for the blood. I knew the Washington, DC project was coming up because this was one of those projects where one 4th grade teacher starts the idea and they all think it's just so cute, they have to do it in their class too. So now, it's expanding to 3rd grade.

I was just recovering from the Washington, DC book when Lastborn brings home a project they did in 1st grade. Mayflower, Mayflower, What Do You See? Sigh. Can anyone have an original thought?

The next wonderful project to attract my ire is what our school refers to as The Land Form Project. In 3rd grade, each child must study a land form and either make a poster depicting that land form or make a diorama of that land form. My next door neighbor's son got a plain. How exciting. Of course everyone in the class wants to do the volcano; parents included. But only 2 volcanoes are allowed per class or it would soon turn into "The Volcano Project." Firstborn chose caves. He had lots of data to base his report on and really knew his stuff. Of course, with this type of project, it is really hard as a parent, not to take over. It is fun. So Firstborn fought to do the project by himself and, you guessed it, he was one of the only kids who did.

As an aside, these are exactly the types of projects that simply don't get done by kids who's parents are not involved in their schooling. The boy down the road who has had DSS called on him because of excessive missed days of school (in third grade) didn't turn any project in. I can imagine this. He gets no academic help from his parents and he's being asked to do a report for which he knows that most of the kids are turning in a project built by their mom and dad. Why should he even try and how would he know how to begin.

The Land Form Project has pretty much stayed within our school walls, but give it a year or two and it will become a curriculum requirement for 3rd grade.

The latest this year is the Bottle Buddy Project in which the 4th graders must read a biography about an American and write an oral report about the book. Then they must create a model of that person using a 2 litre soda bottle. In our school, they can't buy doll clothes to clothe the bottle, and they can't spend a lot of money on supplies. Firstborn read about Hershey. His bottle buddy will be sitting in front of a giant Hershey kiss and the paper strip from the kiss will have his story summary printed on it. The summary has to be in some way attached to the bottle buddy. This was all his idea, but somehow I am supposed to navigate him through this process without doing any of the work myself. Somehow, Firstborn is supposed to make clothes to fit a 2 litre bottle. And one of the grading points is "does the project look like it was made entirely by the student?" Ha. Let's see what gets turned in.

And yes, The Bottle Buddy project has become a district-wide project. Because, you see, there is so much educational value in dressing a 2 litre bottle.

Correction/retraction

No double entendre was meant in the last post about polishing the wand. Though it is rather funny.

-ology

Firstborn has discovered the -ology books. Dragonology, Wizardology, Piratology, and so on. These are the perfect books for him; a combination of reference and fantasy that every geeky little boy would love. Plus, they have cool gems on the cover and sometimes, pockets and foldouts. All in all, a wonderfully enjoyable read.

The downside is that the reference format in which they are written can be confusing to a 10 year old boy. He believes in dragons. He's sure they exist in Europe and Asia and Canada. And after all the titles Egyptology and Pirateology are further proof since Egyptians and pirates did exist. He did have a dragon egg on his Christmas list. Funny how Santa couldn't find one.

I have a high tolerance for this blurred line as long as he isn't going on and on about his fantasies. I count my blessings that it's just dragons and wizardry he believes in and I share his interest in fantasy literature enough to enjoy the times we can talk about common book interests.

This month, Firstborn was given a copy of the Magic Wandmaker's Guide. Another in the -ology series. This one comes with the equipment used to make a magic wand. Firstborn is thrilled with not only the results of the kit but also the stories. It has made for some fun tales from the minivan. I was driving him home from school the day he got the book. He was pouring over the pages, barely breathing and I asked him if he was excited to make his own wand.

I have to read the whole book first. If I don't, there may be dire consequences. I wouldn't want to age thirty years.

"Huh? I replied."

"Well, the book talks about a guy who didn't read the whole guide and mixed the kinds of wood he used in his wand. The wand caused a fissure in the universe and he aged 30 years in one minute. I wouldn't want that to happen to me."

"Well, certainly. " I replied as if this all made sense.

Then yesterday, I noticed he had the wand while we were waiting for the bus. Firstborn already gets picked on a bit by the kids at school. The last thing we need is for him to show up in his goggles or carrying his wand. So I reminded him he couldn't bring toys to school and asked if he wanted me to bring it back to the house for him.

"No way. No one else can hold my wand. If the wand comes into someone else's hands, their aura can damage it."

He's been fiercely protecting and hiding the wand from his little brother. I'm thinking maybe making a wand case for it might be in order.

Oh. And he wants to know how to polish the wand. Apparently, the power is greater if the tip is polished. Last night he asked me how to polish a wand.

snow day?

A big storm was predicted for today. First it was rain, mixed with snow. The next day it was up to 2 inches in our area. The next it was three to six. The numbers kept increasing till we were hearing that we would get a foot of snow today on the 12th of April.

I have two theories about the weather reporting in the Greater Boston area.

1) They use a football pool method. Each meteorologist picks a random square and one will end up being right or at least close.
2) Our local grocer (DeMoula's Market Basket) pays them to forecast big snowstorms whenever it needs to bring up its profits a bit. Every storm ends up being forecast as "the next blizzard of '78." They all look like fools the day after, but none lose their jobs.

Well we prepared last night. We tried everything we could to make a snow day.

We wore our PJs inside out.
We put a spoon under our pillow.
We did the snow day dance.

And now, for the first time in the blogosphere, you too can see the snow day dance.

Lastborn went first:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=447209251173810968


Then, Firstborn had his chance:
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3336139426875483111


But, alas. Not enough snow to close the schools. Lastborn cried. Firstborn has become used to the disappointment. They are both looking forward to "fog days" in Ohio.

The hustle and bustle of 4th grade. An essay

I possitively, absolutely dislike school! I have to wake up at five o'clock. I have to hurry to hockey at five o'clock! and I have school at nine (I usually have to climb the chimney). I guess it kind of qualifies for quality. I can't deny that usually I am pretty funny. It's not the teachers or anything, I just hate school!

Mom's note: while this paragraph doesn't hold well together, you've got to give him credit for the topic and clincher sentences. And how would you fit chimney into that topic if it were you?

Blog on

As always, she says it so much better than I.

http://norling.blogspot.com/2007/03/you-cant-stand-up-to-pee.html

This was an early paragraph by Firstborn.


I can't wait to go to the Great Barrier Reef! I can't wait to see the tentacled species and other animals! What if I discover a new school of fish, because people say that seventy five percent of the worlds' areas are submerged in water and that we've only discovered fifteen percent. What if I could save an endangered species?! I just can't get my mind off going to the coral reef with my brother!

a lastborn moment

Yesterday, I had a lot of house prep tasks on my list. The boys had already spent Good Friday hooked up to their respective electronic devices and I decided it was time to put them to work.
I called them to my bedroom where I explained that if they wanted to be able to buy a big house in Ohio, we would need to do lots to clean up this house so that people would want to spend lots of money on it. This lit up Firstborn's face as predicted. Lastborn was not quite so interested.

I listed off the tasks that they could do for me. Clean their room, put away the folded laundry. Vacuum the stairs, clean out my car... To each Firstborn offered to help. He's earning money for a skateboard and a game device, so he is incented. Lastborn sat quietly until the last job, packaging up the bottles and cans for return, was listed. Silence from both boys. I asked Firstborn again thinking I could divvy up the jobs Firstborn had claimed to make it more even. But he complained that working the bottles and cans made his back hurt.

So, I looked to Lastborn who gave me that, "you're not going to put me to work are you?" look.

Looks like you have bottles and cans then.

He acquiesced and we proceeded to the garage to give the instruction. This is Lastborn's first time on bottle duty. I showed him the trash can where we store the rinsed bottles and cans and I gave him a couple of trash bags and boxes to fill the bottles and cans so we can transport them to the grocery store. He happily began his task and I moved on to a painting job.

A while later I came across him washing his hands. I noticed that the knees on his pants were grimy.

"how did your knees get so dirty," I asked.
"It's a long story," he replied head bowed.

Note to Lastborn: If you want to avoid explaining an incident to your mother, the phrase "It's a long story is not the way to do it. Mom loves long stories.

"come on, tell me. I'd love to hear it."
"No!"

The more he protests, the more I think, this has to be a good one.

Firstborn gets in on the action.

"Tell me!" he says.
Still Lastborn remains mum.

I leave the room and hear the two of them talking in conspiratorial tones. I wait for the talking to subside and return to the room. Now Firstborn looks really guilty. He says, "I know the story now, but I'm not telling. And it wasn't very long."

I smile, "I knew that. But what happened."
With a mixture of amazement and disgust, Firstborn relays that Lastborn, having emptied the trash barrel as far as his almost 7 year old arms could reach, then tipped the can over and crawled in to get the last ones out. Even a barrel full of rinsed bottles and cans can have some residual soda in it. So the knees were covered with soda and dirt.

Lastborn then announced that this was a very dirty job and he should be on the TV show, Dirty Jobs.

Maybe next time, I will show him how to tip the cans out of the trash bin instead of crawling in. But you can imagine after him seeing the TV show Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe crawling into all sorts of dirty confined spaces, that this must be what I had in mind.

Add this to the list of possible future careers for Lastborn. At least it's better than starring role in Puppetry of the Penis.