The Kazel Imagination

Someone's lovin' it.

2012-02-15T21:27:00.001-06:00

It started with a simple request from Sydney, "When we get home, I want to do the dishes."

Ever the doting parent, I told her she could. After all, who am I to deny my sweet little princess' wish to wash dishes?

But then she asked if she could wear one of "those white things that go around here." (Picture in your mind Sydney making wild hand gestures around her waist.)

"You mean an apron?" I asked.

"Yes!"

That took a little work to find, but eventually we located it in the bottom of the costume bin. While we were looking, I happened to find the hat from my old McDonald's uniform. We're talking a vintage '80s polyester double-knit visor. Definitely an envy-worthy classic. Sniff hard and you just might be able to inhale the remnants of grease that's now a quarter-century old.

Sydney was beyond excited. The apron and washing dishes were quickly forgotten. I pointed out that I always wore an apron when washing dishes at McDonald's, but that didn't sway her. She was too busy digging out her McDonald's cash register.

Perhaps it's an indication of how often we eat at her favorite fast food restaurant, or maybe it goes to show how good customer service is rooted in basic common sense... but Sydney already has the process nailed. She greets me, takes the order and suggestive sells additional items. Okay, that last part might need a little work.

Sydney: What would you like today?

Me: I'll have an apple pie and a cup of coffee.

Sydney: You have to order more than two things.Otherwise you'll get too hungry.

Me: Okay, I'll have some french fries, too, please.

Sydney: Very good.

She then calls back the order using an imaginary microphone.

I'm not quite sure why she thinks she should talk with an uppity accent, but here's some video of the next generation of McDonald's girl:

Clearly, she'll need to practice her enunciation of the word "three," otherwise she'll be giving away a lot of food. But other than that, she seems to have a better handle on the job than some of the workers we've encountered recently who do have the job.

My children make me so proud as they dream of the future. AJ plans to play in the NHL some day. And Sydney... Sydney will be serving happy meals to the post-game rush.

Be mine

2012-02-14T23:00:00.000-06:00

As Valentine's Days go, I knew this year wasn't going to be all that memorable. Jeff had to work. AJ had hockey. Sydney had skating. All the ingredients of a perfect, romantic holiday. Uh huh.

And I wasn't particularly bothered by it. I'm far too practical to want my husband to spend a ridiculous amount of money on roses because the calendar told him he should. We exchanged cards this morning. Jeff, with Sydney's help, made the card he gave me. It was by no means fancy, but the thought of them working together on it makes me smile far more than flowers or a box of chocolate ever could. Okay, chocolate might make me smile more. But then I'd feel guilty for eating it, and I'd get frustrated that Jeff didn't remember I was trying to count calories. So yeah, the homemade card wins.

As I stood shivering at the side of the practice rink this evening, I joked with some of the other moms about how our younger self's visions of Valentine's Day differed from reality. I started formulating in my mind what I'd write about my kids and this day: specifically, how girls already seem to embrace this holiday as being for them, while boys begrudgingly do what they're told to do. For instance, Sydney, with very little prompting/nagging from me, "signed" each of the cards she would give to her classmates.

I debated whether I should pencil in her name, to make it legible they were from her. But then decided not to bother. All that would do is tell her classmates' parents that Sydney had given a card/candy. Her friends won't know the difference. They can't read.

AJ cared about Valentine's Day only enough to complain and question why he had to go to school on a holiday. I reminded him that if he didn't have school, then he wouldn't get candy from his classmate. Suddenly school didn't seem like such a bad thing.

Sydney's Valentine enthusiasm continued into the evening. When we finally got home from the hockey rink, she excitedly showed me all the cards and treats she'd gotten.

Wanting to again highlight the difference between boys and girls, I started questioning AJ about what he did for Valentine's Day.

"We mostly just did Valentine's centers today." (Centers are smal group learning activities.)

"When did you pass out your Valentines?" I asked.

"Um, that was at the end of the day."

"Who had the coolest Valentines or treats?"

"Um, probably Jordan. His were Legos. Lego police."

As we'd talked, I'd looked through his folder. There I found a card he made. I asked him to come and read it to me.

"Okay," he agreed with little to no enthusiasm. "But this counts as part of my minutes I have to read today."

"Dear dad and mom... Oh wait, February 14, 2012. Dear dad and mom," he began. (They've been working on letter writing form this week.)

"Happy Valentine Day," he continued. "Mrs Baird said we should just say Valentine, not Valentines."

"Okay, keep going," I said, trying not to read ahead.

"Thank you for doing good things for me. Please don't get divorced."

As he closed with "Love, Alex" my mind screamed, "What? WHAT?"

Taking a deep breath, I thanked him for the card and assured him that Dad and I would never get a divorce.

"Why did you even think that?" I asked. We haven't been fighting. There've been no recent arguments I can even think of.

AJ shrugged, "Sometimes people get divorced."

"Well, yes, sometimes they do," I agreed. "But your Dad and I love each other very much." I continued to push, "Is one of your friends' parents getting a divorce?"

"No," he told me. And then at last, "But a kid at Cool Kids told me his parents are divorced."

Bingo!

"Do divorces make people sad?" he asked.

"Yeah, they do."

"Then why do people get divorced if it makes them sad?"

Oh, how I love his logic!

"Sometimes people stop loving each other, and so they're more sad being married than they would be alone. But don't worry," I assured him again. "Dad and I love each other and we talk any time we get upset. So you don't have to worry about us getting divorced."

"I know," he said. "That's what Mrs. Baird told me, too."

Oh, joy. What must his teacher be thinking? Thankfully, I'm already scheduled to go with AJ to school tomorrow morning for a special "I Love to Read" month event. I'm not sure what I'll say to his teacher, but I'll think of something. Hopefully by this point in the year, she's already used to the way AJ's mind works, and so won't think this too out of character for him.

There's nothing like Valentine's Day to trigger a conversation about divorce. At least in our case, there's a happy ending.

Is the end near?

2012-02-13T22:00:00.000-06:00

Psychologists use a term called the Stockholm Syndrome to describe the odd phenomenon in which a hostage begins to have positive feelings towards its captors, sometimes to the point of defending them.

Is this what's happened to me with hockey?

For almost four months, our lives have been controlled by AJ's hockey schedule. Work hours have been juggled, playdates cancelled and birthday parties delayed, all to make sure AJ doesn't miss a game or practice.

And yet, when the e-mail arrived a few days ago, alerting us that the annual Moms versus Mites hockey game, which traditionally ends the season, is being moved up to this week because the ice conditions have become so hard to maintain this mild winter... I felt a sense of loss.

What? The hockey season is almost over? But... but... but what will we do now?

In a weird way, the hectic schedule makes it easy to be a parent. (Here comes the defending part.) There's no questioning of what we'll be doing on any given night – the schedule is set. No arguments about watching too much TV – who has time for that? Minimal guilt for resorting to low-prep meals – that's the best we can do if we want to eat before 8 p.m.

And enhancing it all is the fact that AJ loves playing hockey. Absolutely loves it. Lives it. Thinks of little else. Forget the presidency or a military career. That was so last year. His new goal is to be an NHL player.

Sydney, meanwhile, has found her own community of friends among the siblings of AJ's teammates. Eleanor, Nathan, Reagan, Caden: she looks forward to seeing them almost as much as she dreams of treats from the snack shack. If she decides to play hockey next year, I think she'll miss the free play time.

Despite the looming end of outdoor ice, AJ's season isn't completely over. There's a tournament this weekend and a chance for another one in early March, plus we've signed him up to play in a three-on-three league that runs in April and May.

That ought to give us enough time to ease into some semblance of life outside hockey. Until it starts again next fall. I wonder if there's counseling for this?

From the mind that never rests...

2012-02-12T22:00:00.000-06:00

I turned off the computer this weekend, thus my four day absence from blogging. It wasn't intentional. I just got busy doing other things. I'd like to say I got a lot accomplished by not staring at the computer screen. But there's always so much more to do.

With plenty to write about, I'll let AJ take over with a few of his recent gems.

After his sister had a playdate that brought two extra girls into the house, AJ added a sign to his bedroom door. The junior police sticker adds such an official touch, don't you think?

And do you suppose Girls aquiet are okay?

***

AJ was taking forever to fall asleep last night, so I laid down next to him in bed, which usually helps settle him down. In the dark, AJ whispered, "Mom, I think I figured out why it takes me so long to fall asleep."

"Why is that?" I asked.

"It's because I don't like sleeping."

***

Jeff and I have fairly different musical tastes, something the kids have become aware of. During a recent car ride, as I was singing along to a song on the radio, AJ asked, "When you were in high school, did you like rock music?"

Me: Yup.

AJ: Did you like '80s music?

Me: When I was in high school, it was the '80s.

Speaking of '80s music, AJ wandered into the room while I was watching news coverage of the death of Whitney Houston. He'd never heard of her, so I pulled up a song on YouTube, telling him she was very popular when I was in high school. (No musical audition would be complete without someone - not me, I knew my limitations - failing miserably to sing one of her songs.) AJ listened for almost a minute before losing interest. To make my point, I said, "See? Didn't she have an incredible voice?

AJ agreed, briefly. "Yeah," he answered, "but she's not as good as Frank Sinatra."

The new word

2012-02-08T21:44:00.000-06:00

Score one for moms everywhere!

I have turned the tables on my kids. Forget "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em." I have beat them at their own game. And now, they are stuck with it.

I changed "the word".

What?

Oh, yes. I. Did.

Remember that really annoying game I wrote about a week or so ago? The one where my kids would try to trick each other (or me) into saying "what," and then they'd laugh and point and shout, "You're stuck with it!"

Not any more. At the most recent meeting of Moms Everywhere (a.k.a. ME) a vote was taken to change the word. (At least that's the story I've given my children.) The new word is... brace yourself because it's brilliant... "Mom."

Every time the kids come to me to settle a squabble or ask me for help with something they are perfectly capable of doing on their own, the chorus goes something like this:

"Mom, mom, mom, mom..."

And now, I can just laugh and point and say, "You're stuck with it."

It drives them up the wall! They don't know what to say. They don't know what to do. And so they respond helplessly with, "But, mom..."

And I get to say it again, "You're stuck with it!"

"THAT'S NOT THE WORD!" AJ yelled in frustration.

"Oh, yes it is! The moms voted."

It leaves them speechless.

Game over. Mom wins.

Fleeced!

2012-02-07T23:50:00.001-06:00

I've heard all about the highly addictive power ofPinterest. Recognizing my limited free time and my tendency to get sucked in to"seemed like a good idea at the time" projects, I've resisted thewebsite's lure. As soon as I saw an invitation was required to join, I took itas a sign and moved on... most likely to Facebook or some other timewastingsocial media site.

I know my limitations. And yet somehow this past weekend, Istill got fleeced.

It started with a simple idea: make AJ a blanket out ofpolar fleece for his birthday. I could do it in his school colors. No sewing isrequired. What could be more perfect for someone with my particular skill set?

I'll tell you what could be more perfect: just about anyother gift idea imaginable.

By the time I was done, I was seriously sleep deprived, mythumb was bruised and I'd taken a firm vow to never again spend a cent atHancock Fabrics. But, hey! At least my daughter's Barbie Camper is accessorizedwith lovely scraps of polar fleece material.

And I ended up with not one, but two blankets.

Mistake #1: taking my daughter with me when I went to the fabric store. Howdid I not realize that of course she would want to pick out material to make a "super snugly and warm"blanket of her own?

Mistake #2: forgetting how much I hate the multi-part process of firstwaiting in a slow-moving line to have my fabric cut, and then waiting in aneven slower line to pay for the fabric. Let me just say, if there is anyjustice in this world, the clueless young couple shopping for 10 yardsof tulle who felt no guilt cutting in line... will someday go shopping withtired and hungry children of their own. And when that day arrives, I hope someidiot does to them what they did to Sydney and me. And to the even more cluelessemployee who took their fabric and started measuring and cutting it, despitethe line of customers who'd been waiting at least 10 minutes... don't worry, mydaughter will never create another scene in your store, because we won't beback.

Exhale, Dana... let it go.

Mistake #3: forgetting how dull my "good" scissors is. If I everget the crazy idea to work with polar fleece again, someone please remind methat I need a new scissors.

Mistakes aside, I stayed up late Friday night cutting and tying Sydney'sblanket. I did hers first because I could work on it openly (as opposed toAJ's, which needed to be a secret.) When it was done, Sydney thought theblanket was nice,

though it wasn't nearly as exciting as what she was able to do with all the tiny scraps of material Ihanded her. All of her Barbies, along with a few Playmobil and Disney Princessfigurines now have polar fleece blankets of their own. Even her Barbie dog'sbed now includes polar fleece scraps as padding. (Too bad Gus chewed up theBarbie dog tonight. Oops!)

Saturday night, I finally started working on AJ's blanket. It was aftermidnight and my thumb was throbbing by the time I tied the final knot, but atlast it was done.

AJ was as excited as you could expect a seven year old boy to get over a newblanket. But he's used it each night since, as has Sydney (and her Barbies).

Now that my thumb has stopped throbbing, I want to make one for myself. Ijust have to find a new fabric store. And a new scissors.

Nano science - big fun

2012-02-06T22:23:00.001-06:00

For the most part, my kids have no concept of what I do for a living. They love coming to my office and visiting with my co-workers. They know I sit in front of a computer and write stories and send e-mails. Sometimes I go to meetings and talk on the phone. But it's not easy summarizing and simplifying the duties of an "account executive/copywriter" in terms I child cares about. It's not as if I do something important like catch bad guys.

However, sometimes my job has some really cool perks for them. Every so often one of them ends up with their picture in a brochure or magazine. And sometimes they get to do fun things like watercolor painting using salt water.

And trying on princess costumes.

Friday night was the official debut of the new "Nano" exhibit at the Duluth Children's Museum. It also included a "Cool Chemistry" program featuring all sorts of experiments and fun. I recently began working with the museum on a general awareness campaign, and needed to see the new exhibit. And so, with the help of my two favorite research assistants, I stopped in to check out the various activities offered.

AJ thought it was very cool to see how lemon juice made a formerly dirty penny look brand new. (His enthusiasm faded somewhat when he learned he didn't get to keep the penny.)

The butterfly/bug projector wall was another source of fascination. Stand still and watch the giant bugs land on your head, or balloon.

The highlight of the night, however, was the making of Nano Ice Cream. Mix together heavy cream, sugar and vanilla, then add liquid nitrogen with a temperature of -325 degrees.

Wow! AJ and Sydney were fascinated.

And then they got to taste it. AJ gave it a thumbs up. Having the option to top his Nano ice cream with caramel sauce made it simply perfect. (Sydney topped her ice cream with strawberry sauce. And then proceeded to top her shirt with the same.)

So how fun was it? The kids didn't want to leave. I reminded AJ that he was going to miss the beginning of the Bulldog's hockey game, and he shrugged and went back to what he was doing. Sydney, meanwhile, woke up the next morning and asked if we could go back to the Children's Museum.

Yeah... sometimes Mom's job - whatever it is - can be pretty neat.

Where are they now?

2012-02-05T22:33:00.002-06:00

I know I'm not the only parent who asks this on their child's birthday, but what happened to my baby? It seems like not that long ago we were snuggling with an 8 lb 12 oz bundle of joy as we watched the Super Bowl together from my hospital room. I have no clue which team won - or even played - that year. (I do, however, clearly recall which commercials made me laugh - and then wince - the hardest. The pain medication given after a C-section is no match for the humor of Super Bowl commercials.)

All of a sudden, seven years have passed. My baby weighs 60 pounds, and all that brown hair has long since turned blonde.

AJ may have rushed to get here (born 12 days early) in time for the big football game, but this sports fan now is all about hockey. Below is a picture of him last night, killing time during the Wild game's intermission. Doing what? Playing a modified form of hockey, of course. In this version, AJ is the offense, goalie and commentator:

His favorite gift this year: a #22 jersey. I loved his expression when he saw the name Clutterbuck printed on the back.

One last update worth noting. If you go back up to the top photo, check out the blanket AJ is swaddled in - it's a fairly standard blanket used by probably just about every birthing center in the country. We smuggled a couple home from the hospital (as I suspect probably just about every new parent does.) Sydney had been using the blanket for her dolls. But now it's been claimed for a new use: puppy chew toy.

Happy birthday, AJ. Seven years ago, I had no idea what to expect. And even today, I love you more than I could ever imagine.

And life has never been the same

2012-02-03T22:55:00.001-06:00

Do you ever think back about certain days in your life - the ones that start out pretty normal, but then something happens that changes the direction of the rest of your life?

Fifteen years ago today was one of those dates for me. I was working as a reporter at the time. I liked my job but, frustrated by the low pay, had started sending out resume tapes a couple months earlier in hopes of moving to a bigger market. Despite my lack of success with that, I was excited to go to work on this particular day because I was about to start working on a special series showing the training new cops go through when they join the Duluth Police Department.

I walked into the training room in the basement of city hall. Chances are I was lugging a tripod on my shoulder, to help ease the photographer's load, while carrying a notebook or clipboard in my other hand. It seems to me the new officers were sitting at tables that had been set up to form a square, or maybe it was a U-shape, I can't remember exactly. And that is where and when I first laid eyes on one particular man.

A screen shot of the video we shot that day.

I could pretend it was love at first site, but quite honestly, I don't remember anyone in the group standing out to me that first day, or even the first week. By the end of the second week, I'd definitely noticed Jeff, primarily because he was one of the few in the group who agreed to let me interview him. By the end of the month, I had a hunch he was interested in me, but I was dating someone else at the time and so did nothing to encourage him. It wasn't until three months after this fateful day that we went out for the first time. And the rest is history.

Fifteen years later, I'm able to play wonderful mind games with this man. As he got ready for work earlier today, I kissed him and wished him a happy anniversary. He responded with a wide-eyed expression that loosely translates as "Oh crap!" as his mind raced to try and figure out what key date he'd forgotten. Finally he asked, "is today a half anniversary of something?"

I've never really thought about how my life would have turned out if any of those resume tapes had resulted in me leaving the market before I met Jeff. I really don't want to imagine it. Wherever a TV career might have taken me, I doubt it would have been as fulfilling as what I have now.

The kids and I went to a special program at the Children's Museum tonight. On the way home, we stopped and visited Jeff at work. We passed the hallway that leads to the training room. Who would have predicted all those years ago that we'd be standing together so close to where it all began. While trying to keep an eye on two hyped up kids.

Definitely better than anything I could ever have planned.

Collared!

2012-02-02T07:00:00.002-06:00

If I were a nicer person, I'd feel really bad for Gus, who, after being neutered, is now stuck wearing a big plastic collar for the next week.

But I have to admit, I find it a little bit amusing. He was kind of a klutzy dog to begin with. He's a full speed ahead kind of fellow with the grace of a battering ram. And now, take away his peripheral vision and add a two-foot-diameter plastic cone around his head, and it's... I should feel bad saying this... kind of funny watching him as he attempts to walk through doorways and eat his food.

But on a brighter note, Hey! Built-in chew toy!

Resourceful pup that he is, there have been a couple instances where he's used the collar like a scoop, flipping up a child's toy off the floor and into his mouth. But for the most part, the cone is slowing down his destructive ways. But that's about the only thing it's slowing down. He has no problem jumping up on the couch or our bed, or running around the house, slamming into the backs of our knees with the collar as he goes.

As I recall, Maggie's post-spaying cone/collar made it almost a week before she managed to flip it off and destroy it. I remember hearing a wild clatter in her kennel one morning. By the time I reached her to see what was going on, she was chewing that thing with a vengence.

Gus isn't waiting to flip the collar off. He's chewing on it whenever he gets the chance. If I were the betting sort, I'd say this collar won't survive the weekend.

Stuck with it

2012-02-01T06:00:00.000-06:00

There's this really funny joke circulating amongst the first grade crowd at my son's school. It's so funny they all know it and try to trick each other with it whenever they can. Especially right after someone else just did it to them. Because no one would ever suspect the joke coming two times in a row. Or three times. Or 12.

The only problem is, it's really not that funny. Not even the first time.

Say what?

(you) What?

(child, laughing and pointing) Hah! You're stuck with it!

(you... now slightly confused. Unless you've already heard this joke two or three or 12 times) Huh?

(child... gleeful with delight) You said the word. Now you're stuck with it.

Give me a moment while I catch my breath from laughing so hard.

Phew! Such a funny, clever joke!

Whomever is stuck with the word now must get someone else to say ____ (You didn't think I was going to say the word, did you? I don't want to be stuck with it.) Because if you're stuck with a word, you're stuck with it until you get someone else to say _____

AJ has tried to pull this joke on me more times than I can count in the last week. And I've heard his friends, hockey teammates and hockey teammates' siblings all trying to play the same trick on him or others.

I tried to relate, suggesting, "So it's kind of like when two people say the same thing at the same time and you yell 'jinx!' And then you can't talk until someone says your name?"

Blank stare from AJ.

I guess not.

Last night, while snuggling at bedtime, I asked him if "what" is the only word you can use to catch people.

Turns out "what" is the easy one. If you really want to get someone good, and be super funny, you have to trick them into saying "bird".

"Why that word?" I asked.

By now he was bouncing on the bed with excitement. (I probably should have, too, since I was being let in on such a cool secret.) "Because bird is the word!"

Of course! Why didn't I think of that?

When you're surrounded by six and seven year olds, it's tough having a 40+ year old sense of humor.

I guess I'm stuck with it.

The big fix

2012-01-31T06:00:00.000-06:00

Can you sense how calm it was at my house last night? Not once did AJ yell, "NO, GUS!" Nor did I hear Sydney whine, "Mo-om, Gus has some something in his mouth that he's not supposed to." (The kids found plenty of other things to yell and whine about, but nothing to do with the dog.)

A remarkable behavior breakthrough for our almost nine-month-old pup? Hardly.

Gus caused us no problems because he wasn't home. He was at our veterinarian's office, kept overnight for observation following surgery earlier in the afternoon. Gus is now an it.

Getting him neutered was something we had to do as part of the contract we signed when we bought him. But besides that, I am thrilled by the possibility that the procedure may help calm him down some.

And then AJ ruined my euphoria with a simple question.

"What does 'neuter' mean?"

Uhhhmmm... how do you explain that to a first grader? Why did I think it would be a good idea to give the kids advance warning that Gus would be gone for a night? Why did I start this conversation when Jeff wasn't home to help me?

"Well..." I chose my words carefully. "We want to make sure Gus doesn't make a girl dog have puppies. You know how a baby needs a mom and dad? Puppies do too."

I spoke in as vague of terms as I could think of, and then quickly shifted the topic just enough to distract him. "It's important that we do that because there are already so many dogs in the world that some don't have owners. And do you know what happens to dogs that don't have owners? Sometimes they have to be killed because they don't have anyone to take care of them."

AJ was incensed. He had all sorts of suggestions of who should be responsible for feeding dogs that have no owner, and then proclaimed, "When I'm president, I'll pass a law that says the pound can't kill any dogs or cats."

Does this kid have a future in politics, or what?

So the big day arrived, and with it the instruction that Gus wasn't supposed to eat after midnight the night before. It was easy enough to keep his food dish out of reach. It's all the other things he tends to put in his mouth that we hoped wouldn't reach his stomach.

Gus's surgery was at 1 p.m. I was allowed to stop in and see him after work. The vet assured me that all went well. Poor Gus was still really drugged up. Or maybe he found it extremely irritating that four hours after having his private parts snipped, I was trying to take his picture.

I'm blaming it on the morphine. Poor ~~guy~~ it.

The kids whined a little about missing Gus. AJ thought it was unfair I got to see Gus when he couldn't. Sydney, meanwhile, quickly recognized the opportunity to play with the toys we've warned her to keep packed away from Gus.

Now for the eerie part. Jeff will be going to the vet to pick up Gus this afternoon... exactly one year to the day after bringing Maggie in for the check-up where we learned the horrible news she had cancer. I'm trying to figure out if there's some symbolism in that. Thankfully, today should be a far happier occasion for us all, and any pain medications for Gus should be a short term fix, rather than a life-extending savior.

This next week ought to be interesting. Gus is supposed to continue wearing the cone to prevent him from licking his stitches. I wonder if it will make it harder for him to chew on Barbie dolls.

Celebrating on skates

2012-01-30T06:00:00.000-06:00

Sunday was day two of the Mite 1 jamboree. And it was cold. Single digit temperatures. At least the sun was out and AJ and his team were scoring like crazy. So all was good. Just really, really cold.

Now in my third year as a hockey mom, I realize I've become a reverse snob. I used to see the really fashionable moms in their form fitting coats and stylish boots, and feel bad that I would never look as pulled together as they do. Now, as I stand in my bulky snow pants and mukluks with my neck warmer pulled up to cover my mouth, I simply shake my head at their ignorance, knowing they won't last long in the cold.

As I mentioned yesterday, I was hoping to get a picture of AJ celebrating after a goal. He gave me plenty of chances.

I could have gotten a lot more shots, but I was standing next to Jeff, who is in the habit of clapping and cheering when AJ scores. So when the camera finally snapped the photo, instead of capturing AJ's moment of glory, I got this...

Jeff and I switched spots, and AJ continued to score. Here's the "stick in the air" celebration:

And the "stick in the air plus fist pump":

Game two was more of the same.

Here's the video version. It was so nice of AJ to score within a couple of seconds of me turning on the camera. Watch closely – he's #12.

At the end of each shift, as he waits to step into his team's bench/box, I can hear AJ's voice ring out, making sure the coach is aware of how many goals he scored. And at game's end, he can always be heard shouting, "Yeah! We won!" Officially, no one is keeping score, but Mr. Intensity and the rest of his team are constantly watching and tallying.

I wonder if AJ realizes what a special season he is having. He is part of a team... and part of a line... that has dominated every game they have played. Carter, Daniel, Wyatt and AJ. I credit the coaches for keeping these boys together. When they're on the ice at the same time, they pay attention to each other and pass really well. Which means they're scoring and having fun. It also means the newer skaters get a chance to really play on the alternate line, rather than simply be out on the ice while older kids skate past them.

I can't help but wonder if (and hope) I'll be watching them play together for the next 10 years. It almost makes it worthwhile to spend an hour standing outside in the cold.

The hazards of being a rink rat

2012-01-29T09:16:00.000-06:00

We all know hockey can be a dangerous sport. But who knew being a spectator could carry such risk?

Though, technically, Sydney wasn't a spectator, because she wasn't even watching her brother's game. She was playing around... in boots... on the adjoining small rink - the one she usually uses for her skating lessons.

I'd been watching AJ's game and figured I should go check on her. As I started walking toward the rink, I was met by Sydney and the older brother of one of AJ's teammates (they often play together to kill time during practice.) Caden pointed out, "There's your mom."

And that's when I noticed the tears. And the major goose egg on her forehead, and the road rash (or ice rash?) on her cheek.

"I... fell... down..." was all she could say through the tears.

I picked her up and did my best to maneuver through the crowd of players, parents and hockey bags inside the shack and made my way to the concession stand... which had no ice. So we did the next best thing and grabbed a plastic food service glove and squeezed our way back outside to fill it with snow.

She, of course, milked it for all it's worth. "Can we snuggle, Mommy? 'Cause I have an owie on my forehead."

This morning she's doing just fine. And boy does she look tough! I'm also hopeful that she will never again argue when I suggest she wear a helmet.

Enough about Sydney's learning experience. This weekend is all about hockey. It's the Esko Mite 1 Jamboree.

Amazingly, the weather - while windy - wasn't horrible. Keep in mind, I have very low expectations based on previous years. The first one was played in the midst of a blizzard. The kids had to play the final game with a tennis ball because there was so much snow on the rink. And last year, the temperature was below zero for some of the games.

So yeah, compared to that, a bit of wind and light snow with temperatures in the teens isn't so bad.

The light snow did make for a funny scene during period brakes. To clear the rink, the dads lined up with shovels and brooms. Wasn't there a 70s cartoon that ended with a guy with a push broom and a twitchy moustache, sweeping the scene off the screen? That's what Jeff reminded me of.

The kids played great. The picture below is actually a shot of AJ scoring. I finally got one!

Today's photo goal will be to capture his celebratory pose immediately after scoring. It's not enough to hoist his stick in the air. No, after watching the Wild and Bulldogs players score, he now has to lift one of his legs up, too.

Another goal... an injury-free day. Two more games to go... let's do it!

Life as I know it

2012-01-27T22:13:00.001-06:00

By the time they're old enough to appreciate it, they likely won't remember it. That's the simultaneous joy and curse of motherhood. We run ourselves ragged for our kids, and they don't even realize it. Take Thursday for example...

The text message came a little after 1:30. "I added a learn to skate class tonight from 530-630! Hope Sydney can make it"

Four hours notice. Everyone else in the class had been notified on Tuesday, but since we'd skipped class that night to go out for Jeff's birthday, we'd missed the announcement.

Jeff had to work, and so I left work an hour early, stopping at a McDonald's drive-thru on my way home. I'd carefully calculated in my head how much time it would take to get the kids, get home, get them dressed, and drive to the rink. What I forgot to factor in is how very, very bad I am at calculating how long it will take to do something in.

I picked up the kids from the after school program and handed them their Happy Meals to start eating. It was 5:10 p.m. Right on time! As I drove, I barked instructions: "When we get home, Sydney, you're going to take off your coat and go to the bathroom. AJ, get some long johns on. You can skate while Sydney's at her lesson."

We made it home, pulling into the garage at 5:15 p.m. Still on time. I reminded Sydney to go to the bathroom as I juggled to get their backpacks, my purse and travel mug out of the car. "AJ, don't leave your gloves in the car. Sydney, take your Happy Meal. Don't forget to go to the bathroom."

Sydney loves to race to the door to the house so she can get there first. Once there, she plants herself in front of the door, which she is unable to open while wearing mittens. Of course it's nearly impossible to reach around her while carrying two backpacks, a purse and a travel mug.

"Sydney, get out of the way," AJ complained, not realizing that he was an obstacle, too.

I juggled what I was carrying enough to get in the house. "AJ, finish eating while I get your sister dressed."

Sydney piped up, "I'm full."

"There's no way you could have eaten enough yet," I said. "But let's get you dressed."

Gus, by now, was whining in his kennel. There was no way I was adding to the chaos by letting him out.

"Sydney, bathroom!" I reminded for the third or fourth time. "AJ, why aren't you eating?"

"Oh yeah," he answered. "I forgot."

Somewhere in the midst of dropping backpacks and bags on the counter, I realized Sydney had gotten really quiet.

"What's wrong Syd?" I asked, crouching down to her eye level. It occured to me I was rushing her pretty hard.

The floodgates opened. Yes, she was upset. Big tears and bigger sobs, "I... miss... my... Daddy!"

"You miss Dad?" I asked, dumbstruck.

Sniffle. Sniffle. Oh yeah, she was in full Oscar-worthy drama mode.

"I... miss... Daddy!"

"You just saw him this morning, and he'll call you at bedtime. Take a deep breath. We need to get ready."

5:25 p.m. Sydney was not yet dressed. AJ was not yet dressed. I had not yet changed from my work clothes.

More whines from Gus in the kennel.

More whining from the girl on my knee.

"Okay, enough. Let's get going," I tried to sound more cheerful. We're gonna be late."

"Mom," AJ pointed at me with a grin on his face. He'd caught me saying what I've been telling him not to say. "You said 'gonna'!"

"Not the time, AJ!"

And so it continued. By the time we reached the rink and got the kids in skates, we were 15 minutes late. Oh well.

But I've come to appreciate the calm of standing outside on the side of the rink as the wind hits you in the face and chills you to the core. Strangely enough, it's somehow soothing.

Oh, who am I kidding? It's just really, really cold.

But it does clear your mind of all the day's stresses. Or maybe it just numbs you.

The plus side of harder homework

2012-01-25T20:04:00.002-06:00

This might be a trick – a variation of the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" technique. AJ's been jealous for months that his sister's "homework" is easier and more fun than his spelling assignments. And so he seems to have switched tactics, enticing his sister with the philosophy "if you can't beat 'em, get 'em to join you."

"Can I play, too, Alex?" Sydney asked when she saw the Scrabble game come out.

AJ played hard to get for a little bit, but when it became clear I wasn't going to come over and do his homework for him, he welcomed his little sister's involvement. They were by no means playing Scrabble. AJ's assignment was to spell out each of the words on his list. If he could build off an existing word, great, but certainly not necessary.

Sydney came in handy in this version of the game. Either AJ or I would call out what letter was needed next, and Sydney would help search through the tiles on the table to find what was needed.

Sydney's awe of her brother's spelling ability seems to have fed his ego just enough to put him in a cooperative mood. At bedtime that night, I told AJ to pick a book to read. He still reads out loud to himself, so Sydney quickly sensed an opportunity to be read to.

AJ's book of choice featured plenty of pictures. Combine that with the fact that neither child was in a rush to go to bed, and suddenly you've got an extremely patient audience of one, snuggling up to her big brother as he read about Lego policemen.

I could try to point out to AJ that it's because of all his hard homework that he now is able to read so well, but I doubt he would care for that logic. And so instead I smile brightly when he complains about homework and warn, "Just you wait."

Daddy's birthday dance party

2012-01-24T21:07:00.002-06:00

Maybe once you have as many birthdays as Jeff has had, you don't mind turning the event into a celebration for everyone around you. For instance, during dinner at Texas Roadhouse, when the server brought out the special occasion saddle (you get to sit on it while everyone else in the restaurant yells "Yee-haw!") Jeff was more than willing to let the kids take his place and climb onto the seat of honor.

I suspect Jeff wouldn't have minded if his birthday had gone completely un-noticed at the restaurant. But Sydney had other ideas. The waitress approached our table and barely had enough time to introduce herself before Sydney blurted out, "It's my Daddy's birthday!"

Sydney now wants to be a Texas Roadhouse waitress when she grows up. They get to dance! Our server had to have known she was guaranteeing herself a nice tip when she invited Sydney to join her for a line dance.

I'm sure if they'd been doing tap or ballet, Sydney would have done much better.

Sydney's "dance party" continued at home when she at last got to give Daddy the musical birthday card she'd picked out all by herself. Turn up the volume for this one. It's one of Jeff's favorite songs. Sydney has no doubt heard it so many times on his iPod that she instantly recognized it when she opened the card.

Sydney opened the card so many times that Jeff is now sick of the song. Hooray! He finally told Sydney to move the dance party to her room. Sydney gave him the most horrified look. "But I can't do a dance party alone."

AJ, meanwhile, had been anxiously awaiting the gift opening. He knew Dad was getting an Xbox hockey game, and AJ couldn't wait to play it with him. Sadly, Mom didn't realize we needed an extra controller to play the game, and so the debut of NHL hockey in our living room will have to wait a day.

Even Gus got something out of the deal... the leftover T-bone from Jeff's steak.

Of course, in AJ's mind, the best part of Dad's birthday is that once it's done, we're one day closer to his own birthday. Not that he's counting, but, oh wait... he's totally counting. Only twelve more days to go.

Maybe I'm just bad at picking pets

2012-01-23T20:06:00.000-06:00

Somehow Spike must have caught wind that I was criticizing the dog in Saturday's blog post. (An impressive feat considering I'm pretty sure the cat is close to deaf and, well, as mentioned, she's a cat... which means I'm really sure she can't read. At some point in her nine lives, she's learned to overcome these limitations. She has a remarkable awareness of whether the dog's locked in his kennel, a time she savors by roaming freely without fear of a sudden, unappreciated puppy ambush.)

So... Spike was in a brave and curious mood Saturday, showing up underfoot as I packed away the Christmas decorations.

My 17-year-old feline, who has been referred to by other members of the house as "the %#$@ cat that will never die," conveniently seems to have forgotten the variety of reasons she should be grateful that we even keep her. For instance, in the photo below, note the foam padding on the basement floor. We don't dare carpet down there because any time Spike wants to get a message to us that she's irritated about something, she has a tendency to miss the litter box. By as much as 30 feet.

Spike also doesn't seem to understand that as a cat, her lone job around here is to catch mice. And so we've been forced to set up mouse traps in the basement.

But of course we have to be careful where we set the mouse traps. We don't want to accidentally hurt the cat who can't be bothered to catch mice. Luckily, we've sectioned off parts of the basement, such as a storage area under the stairs, to keep the cat out so she can't use it as her litter box. It's the perfect place to set up mouse traps. We've caught several there. So it all works out kind of nicely, doesn't it?

Until it's time to put away holiday decorations. I was hunched over (just around the corner to the right in the above photo) trying to stack bins filled with Christmas stuff. As I backed around the corner, I caught sight of Spike casually making her way toward the mouse trap.

"Spike, do not..." I started to warn.

But she's deaf, and so she didn't hear me, and continued moving toward the trap...

I had to drop (literally) what I was doing and rushed to stop her before she stuck her nose in the peanut butter bait.

Crack!

Not the mouse trap.

My head.

On the low beam that hangs from the landing on our staircase.

That got the cat's attention. Spike turned and ran and hid.

Could someone please remind me why I have pets? I used to think they were a good idea. But now I've forgotten the reasons. Must have been caused by hitting my head.

The joy of undecorating

2012-01-22T22:01:00.000-06:00

I'm still allergic to dust mites.

I'm reminded of this every year at about this time. Not at the doctor's office. No, I get confirmation of this in my kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And any other room where I've hung Christmas decorations that now have to come down. It's a vicious cycle. I know that I'm going to be horribly congested by the time I'm done, and so I delay the inevitable. Which allows an extra week or so of dust to accumulate.

Isn't there a song that wishes every day could be like Christmas? I wonder if it was written in the midst of taking down decorations. I'm grasping here. (And gasping a little, too.) I'll take any excuse to stall on this miserable task.

I did get some help this year. Sydney, who showed little interest (i.e. no interest) in helping me take ornaments off the Christmas tree a few weeks ago, was more than happy to pack up the decorations. As long as they were decorations she was willing to part with for the next 10 months.

"Rudolph isn't a decoration," she insisted. "He's my pet toy."

Candy canes also had to be carefully sorted. Some went on the kitchen table "for later." Others, she determined, needed to be eaten immediately.

We experienced another difference of opinion regarding her beloved glittery butterfly decorations. Sydney wanted to keep all 12 of them up 12 months of the year. Mommy, meanwhile, is pretty sick of having to shift them off the dresser handles every time I open or shut a drawer.

And so we packed away 10 of them, and let the other two flutter over to the closet door handles.

Compromise is a wonderful thing.

Now, if I could just breathe, life would be good... at least until November when it's time to stir up the dust again and decorate for next Christmas.

When do I get the undying loyalty and devotion?

2012-01-21T08:40:00.000-06:00

Cats get such a bad rap. They're portrayed as sneaky and sly, the opposite of the loyal and upfront dog. When really, it's the dogs who are the tricky ones. They start out all adorable and sweet. Sure there are a few accidents, but who can stay made at a face like this?

But then they get bigger. And bigger. And bigger.

And they continue to chew. And chew. And chew.

And then one day you look at your daughter's Barbie collection and realize it's a family of amputees. There's amputee Skipper:

And what can be said for poor baby sister Chelsea? Barbie's dream wedding is going to be a flower girl short. Chelsea won't be tossing rose petals down the aisle anytime soon.

Gus's reign of terror extends to more than just Barbies. (As if to make the point, he just walked into the office and pulled a wrapper out of the garbage and started shredding. Nice show of diversity, Gus, but today we're talking about what you do to toys.) The Playmobil mom... at least she was salvageable... though she's a bit of a bobblehead, now. But poor, poor, Tiana.

Ironically, Tiana just joined our house last week. A consolation gift after Gus destroyed a different Disney figurine.

I know what you're thinking. He's just a puppy. He's trying to get attention. He just wants someone to play with him. Well, let me tell you. Last night the kids did a phenomenal job of wearing him out. Running around and climbing on the couch, throwing balls and tackling him. Gus actually sat down at one point to catch his breath.

And then he walked over to the fireplace ledge and destroyed one of his namesakes. (The idea for "Gus" came from Cinderella's mice friends, Gus and Jacque.)

Don't let the sweetly innocent, "Who, me?" look fool you. That's an Imaginext alien ray gun he's trying to conceal in his mouth.

The final straw?

He hurt (deep breath) Sally.

Sally is mine. And now she's missing a hand and a huge hunk of her trademark 'do.

Nobody hurts my Sally doll.

I'd ask if anyone out there wants to adopt a dog, but I know Jeff would never allow it.

Anybody want to adopt me? I get along well with cats, children and older dogs. Just no puppies.

-8 degrees can be so cool!

2012-01-20T08:51:00.002-06:00

I think the cold weather has started to affect my brain. The frigid cold temperatures of the last two days are starting to seem fun. (Of course, I say that knowing that it's supposed to warm up later today and should be 30 degrees warmer by Sunday.)

Knowing we had a limited window of opportunity to demonstrate for the kids something I once got to demonstrate as a reporter, (I'm pretty sure just about every other TV reporter/weather caster in Duluth has done the same.) I boiled some water last night and grabbed the camera as Jeff threw it into the cold night air.

Poof! Instant steam!

AJ's mind instantly started to race. What else could he do with water in the cold? Remembering that Sydney's preschool class had a "homework" assignment this week of putting water in the freezer to see what happened to it, AJ decided to put a bowl of water outside on the front step. (I probably could have told him this would work any night for the next two months, but hey, who am I to spoil the fun?)

Sydney of course had to copy him. Unfortunately, she seemed to mix up the two experiments, and so after filling her bowl with water,

she walked to the front door and flung it in the air.

It did not turn into steam.

Oops!

Meanwhile, I'd posted the steam photo on Facebook, and a high school friend who lives in a slightly warmer climate showed it to her daughter, Reagan, who thought it looked really cool and asked if there was video of it. What a great idea!

I shared this with AJ, who thought Reagan's name was pretty cool because he remembers Ronald Reagan's birthday is the day before his own. (It's how his mind works. I'm sure he would have helped even if she didn't share a name with a president.) And so this morning, AJ and I repeated the boiling water trick.

Here's your video, Reagan. Sorry that it's sideways. I have no idea why it's doing that. It looks normal on my computer until I upload it.

I love how casual he was at the end. He was probably overcome with relief that he hadn't gotten hurt. (I might have gone a little over the top in my warnings to him before we did this, to make sure he didn't somehow spill or toss the boiling water on himself.)

And then he remembered his other experiment. Off the kids ran to check their bowls of water

...which, of course, had frozen hours ago.

So then the question became what do you do with really big ice cubes?

Turn it into a puppy treat. Gus liked this experiment the best.

And now I'm ready for warmer weather.

Sleeper conversations

2012-01-19T06:26:00.000-06:00

Bedtime remains one of my favorite moments of the day. Oh, I know what you're thinking. It's because after a long, exhausting day, the promise of a few peaceful moments to myself are at last just minutes away. The light at the end of the tunnel grows brighter as the kids' bedroom lights go off.

And yes, that's part of it. But even more than that, I love the end of day conversations with AJ.

"Mom, what was your favorite part of the day?" He's gotten good at beating me to the punch, asking the question I usually ask him. He then guesses, "is it right now when you're snuggling with your children?"

My future politician's next move usually involves turning up the charm, giving me a hug and declaring that I'm one of his favorite girls.

This is actually a fairly new development, and a bit of a downgrade for me. I used to be the best mom in the whole world. Now I'm categorized as one of his favorite girls. The first time he announced this, I had to question who else was on this list.

"Sydney."

"No girlfriends on this list?" I couldn't resist teasing.

"No!"

Sometimes, our conversations while lying in the dark, reveal issues that have clearly been weighing on his mind. Such was the case one night last week, after a less than stellar hockey game.

"On the way home tonight, Dad and I had a talk," he told me, his voice was very serious. "Dad said I wasn't trying as hard as I could have. (Pause) Well, I thought about it. (Another pause) And I really was trying as hard as I could."

Another night: "Mom, I've decided I'm still gonna say 'gonna'." (I'd been correcting him on that earlier in the evening.) "But I won't say 'ain't' because I think that sounds stupid, too."

Other bedtime conversations involve whatever thought pops into his head that he figures has stall tactic potential.

"I can smell the soap you use," he told me one recent night. "It's like flowers. Mixed with starfish."

What?

I don't know what starfish smell like, let alone what a starfish/flower combo scent might be. And then a few days later I happened to glance at the soap container's label.

And I don't think I want to know what inspired his thought process a couple nights ago. A commercial? A TV show? The comments made by the fake Bob Harper character when I'm working out to the Biggest Loser on XBox?

"Mom, can girls get abs?"

"Yes."

"Did you ever get any?"

"Go to sleep."

"I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too."

And that's why I will continue to snuggle with him at bedtime, for as long as he lets me. For as long as I remain one of his favorite girls.

And then I turned around and they were big

2012-01-18T08:22:00.002-06:00

It happened again. I'm not quite sure when, but it did.

My kids grew up even more.

How is it that I don't realize this fact until I have photographic proof slapping me in the face like this morning's frigidly cold wind chill?

AJ's hockey team posed for pictures last week, and all I can say is "Wow". It's not just that he looks big. I'm used to seeing him on ice and know that the skates and padding add inches and bulk. This is all about his face and attitude. This is no rookie skater. This is a three-year veteran who's confident on the ice and lives and breaths the sport.

And that was only the first bit of shock. Then came pictures of my "baby".

She's still supposed to look like a preschooler! And yet with her helmet-tousled hair and casual smile, she looks like she's been doing this for years.

There is no team photo for the kids in Learn to Skate. No buttons for the moms to proudly wear on their coats. But one of the perks of being friends with the photographer is getting to squeeze in one extra photo subject after the hockey players have all been photographed. Thank you, Crystal!

She also took this fun shot:

AJ had grown impatient by this point. He just wanted to get back to playing with his team. At least Sydney's expression is more typical of the smile I know and love.

On the subject of hockey. Sydney now thinks she's ready to play. At practice last night, her "coach" (That sounds so much more official and cool than "teacher," doesn't it?) tried to show her the "snowplow" technique of pointing her toes slightly inward to slow down and stop. Sydney wasn't interested. So instead she taught herself how to skate backwards. So now she thinks she's ready. Hopefully by next week she'll have convinced herself she needs to learn to slow and down and stop. Maybe then she'll focus on the lesson being taught.

Skating after two lessons

2012-01-16T23:03:00.003-06:00

Learn to Skate class #3 ended up getting cancelled tonight due to the instructor having a sick child. My initial reaction was "why couldn't that have happened tomorrow night when the temperature is supposed to barely break 0 degrees?" And then I remembered the world doesn't revolve around me and my desire for a toasty body temperature.

I called Jeff so he knew he didn't have to rush supper, and suggested he pack Sydney's gear anyway, so she could still do some skating during AJ's hockey practice. Here she is, demonstrating how - in less than a week - she's learned to propel herself forward like a fearless maniac.

Despite her progress, Sydney informed me she's not ready to play hockey yet.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I don't know how to skate backwards yet."

"That doesn't matter," I told her. "Your brother played hockey for at least a year before he learned to skate backwards."

That was pretty exciting news for her. Almost as exciting as the big helmet swap. (Look for AJ wearing a new, black helmet in blog posts to come. His old helmet was so small it was squishing his glasses into the side of his skull and giving him headaches. Not a good situation. I tried to convince Jeff we should stick with a white helmet because it made AJ so much easier to pick out in the crowd and identify him in pictures. But Jeff seems to think a little thing like teams having a uniform look is important, and so I was over-ruled.) Anyway... Sydney's helmet had also grown too small, and so she was very excited to replace it with AJ's old white one. I suspect once AJ is big enough to sweat, Sydney may not be quite so willing to embrace his hand-me-downs.

And so with new helmet on and her determination set at full speed ahead, Sydney skated up and down the little rink. And she's set her sights on playing hockey next year. Not for the Esko team, she informed me. She's going to play for the Mite 1's.

Some gravitational force must have shifted the world to again revolve around me, because all I can wonder is if this means I have to work twice as many shifts in the concession stand.

P.S. Cousin Zane, if you decide to play hockey or are ready to attempt skating, Sydney has a barely-used black helmet for you to try.

Online "communication"

2012-01-15T23:03:00.000-06:00

In first grade, I remember learning to read, tie my shoes and tell time. My son is learning to send emails and post assignments online.

How the world has changed!

AJ's teacher warned us last week that we should should expect an email - it would come from her e-mail address, but would be written by our child. Sure enough, the below message arrived Friday.

His first email: short and sweet, and a bit confusing. What's with the ending about "going to watch TV"? Was he signing off to go watch TV? No, he explained when he got home from school, on Pajama Day, they get to watch TV. Aaahhh.

I asked AJ if he typed the email himself. Yes, he did. How long did it take? Two days.

It got me thinking. I can't remember when exactly I got email capabilities. I know I was an adult, and suspect it was through work at WDIO, because I don't think I had a home computer until after I got married. But who was the first person I emailed and what did I write about? I have no clue.

This isn't AJ's first time typing on the computer. Aside from the various online games he's played, he also posted this little gem on his class' microsite. The assignment was to first write a little bit about themself, and then type it.

Isn't that special. If you can't decipher it, here are the three most important things my son thinks you should know about him:

My name is Alex

I am 6 years old.

I have an Iraq $1,000 dollar bill.

It's always nice to see what matters from his perspective.

Supposedly, by spring, he'll learn how to make a PowerPoint presentation. When he's done, maybe he can teach me.

Glove drama

2012-01-13T08:50:00.000-06:00

One would think, by this point in the season, I'd be better at this. It's been at least two months since the annual letter came home from school, reminding parents to dress their children in snowpants, hats and gloves every day. And yet, once again this morning, I was running around the house, frantically searching for a matching set of gloves

Note from the school aside, it's four degrees this morning in our chilly part of the tundra. Not wearing gloves is simply not an option.I don't need a reminder to dress my child in appropriate warm weather gear. What would help is tips on how not to lose those winter accessories. Or maybe a reminder to give oneself at least ten minutes to find them before the bus rounds the corner heading for our driveway.

AJ is wearing two very different gloves to school today. And part of me hopes he gets laughed at. Maybe it will teach him a lesson.

Bad photo... but there was no time to pose... trust me, the glove on his left is green camouflage. The one on the right is black and royal blue.

Finding matching gloves this morning was not easy. I located a few single gloves in the closet, and found a lot of single gloves buried in the mess better known as my dining room table.

"AJ, where are your gloves?" I asked in desperation as he put on his hat and struggled to zip his coat.

"I don't know, I wore them at hockey last night."

"Which ones?"

"The skeleton gloves."

I checked his hockey bag. No gloves.

Then I realized, as cold as it had been last night, he probably also wore them home. I checked his room where he'd piled his hockey gear. No gloves.

I checked the car. No gloves.

I tried the "think about what you did when you got home last night. What did you do? Where might you have set them?" routine. It didn't work.

I briefly debated sending him in my gloves, but didn't want to risk losing them. A glance at the clock revealed the bus should be rolling down our street any second. I grabbed the blue/black glove. It was for a right hand. I ran to the closet and found the camouflage glove. Could I possibly be this lucky? Yes! It was for the left hand. Victory!

"Here you are. This is what you're wearing today."

As AJ was heading out the door, Jeff - who gets to do this fun job the other four days of the week when I'm working - came wandering from the bedroom to see what the commotion had been about. Or maybe he justn't want to enjoy watching me stumble through what he seems to do much more smoothly. "AJ wore the white gloves to hockey last night," he said.

The white gloves? Of course. That's the pair I usually put on Sydney when we can't find her regular gloves. I'd found those earlier this morning and noted they seemed particularly dirty and had thrown them in the laundry.

We'll likely need to wear gloves for at least the next three months. I shall count my blessings that I only have to get my first grader ready for the bus one day a week. And now I think it's time to tackle the mess better known as my dining room.

Quick change artists

2012-01-12T07:03:00.000-06:00

My bag is packed. I'm ready to go. For the fourth night in a row, when my day job ends, I'll be making the change from working professional to supportive hockey mom.

Let Superman have his phone booth. I don't need one. (Good thing, since they don't seem to make those anymore.) Give me a bench in a warming house, or the floor of a crowded dance studio office, and off come the high heels and on go the snow pants, mukluks, hat and gloves.

I'm trying to decide which is more difficult. I face this hectic craziness at the end of 10 hours of work. Jeff, meanwhile, gets the kids geared up for hockey or skating lessons (last night we threw in Sydney's dance class for an added challenge) and then waits for me at the side of the rink. We spend a couple seconds together for the unofficial passing of the baton (i.e. a quick kiss), and then he heads off to start a 10+ hour work shift.

There's just never a dull moment.

Sydney is already learning to master this quick-change skill. Here she is at 7:30 yesterday morning, ready to head to preschool. It was "jersey day" for AJ's hockey team, so of course my newly skilled skater needed to wear her jersey too.

And here she is at 7:30 last night, after finishing dance class and then racing to make it to the second half of her brother's hockey game.

The picture I didn't take was of her bundled in snow pants and boots, sliding and rolling down the hill next to the rink to pass the time while AJ was on the ice. Don't slap a label on this child. She'll prove you wrong every time (Unless you call her stubborn. That's a pretty consistent trait.) She's happy to be the girlie girl, and equally proud to keep up with the boys. I love that about her! When I'm not totally frustrated by her quick shifts in attitude.

I also didn't take any new photos of AJ playing hockey, though he made a really pretty goal. Winter finally roared in around the lunch hour yesterday and by last night it was way too windy and cold to take off my gloves to use the camera.

Last night was a particular logistics challenge. Sydney's dance class ended at 6 p.m., the same time AJ's hockey game started at a rink 20 minutes away. Jeff managed to drop Sydney off for her lessons, then head with AJ for his game. I, meanwhile, left work and made it to pick up Sydney with 10 minutes to spare. We then bundled up and headed to watch AJ. Phew!

AJ has one more scrimmage tonight, and then our six-day hockey marathon comes to an end. I'm fairly certain we get the next three days off. Until AJ asks to go to the rink to skate. And next week's schedule appears to be calmer. Until a last-minute scrimmage is announced.

On a brighter note, the kids have barely watched TV this week. Who has time for something like that?

Making concessions

2012-01-11T08:29:00.000-06:00

Working the concession stand at the ice rink is pretty close to my least favorite part of being a hockey mom. (Beat out only by watching my child play hockey in sub zero temperatures with a nearby fire ring set up to offer a slight hint of warmth, along with enough smoke to stink up my coat for the next week. That, I believe, is my least favorite part.)

All the moms in our AJ's hockey league are expected to work at least three shifts throughout the season. And while it's better than the dads' responsibility of flooding the rink each week, it's still a miserably tedious experience. For me, it brings flashbacks to my illustrious career start at McDonalds, combined with way too much time to think about all the things I could be doing and cleaning in my own home that would be a better use of my time. To sum it up in two words, concession stand duty is long and it is boring.

But not for Sydney.

Saturday, Sydney eagerly volunteered to join me in the small little room where we're surrounded by candy, cookies, chips, pop and other treats. I can't imagine why she wanted to spend her time there. She happily pulled up a stool, announcing, "This is my first day on the job!"

Jeff and AJ joined us part way through the shift, bringing me some needed healthy food from home. AJ immediately went out skating, because the two games he was playing in a tournament that day weren't enough for him. Sydney happily showed Daddy the "plus game" she'd been playing (i.e. pushing buttons on the calculator.)

Alas, Saturday was quite possibly the most boring day we could have picked to spend four hours in the concession stand. Pretty much every local hockey player was involved in a tournament elsewhere that day, which meant none of them were coming to skate here. We saw less than 10 people and made a whopping $11.50 in sales. In four hours.

To help pass the time, Sydney turned to song and dance. She will probably hate me someday for sharing this, but how can I resist?

S is for Sydney the Skater

2012-01-10T07:06:00.000-06:00

Mother Nature tried to give us a break last night. With afternoon temperatures hitting the 40s, AJ's hockey coaches, who had already announced the evening's practice would be optional, cancelled it all together. But it wasn't quite enough to give us an evening off because Sydney's first Learn to Skate class went on as scheduled.

She didn't get to use the white PVC bar she'd been hoping for, but suddenly it didn't matter. Put Sydney in a group setting with a "coach" giving instructions and she takes it seriously. Round and round the rink she skated, never questioning or complaining. Well, she did say the helmet was hurting her chin a little and the elbow pads were squeezing her arms, but that didn't stop her. And at least she didn't cry to go back inside, which several of the kids did.)

I'm proud and impressed with her progress. Within the first 15 minutes, she'd learned how to get up (one knee at a time) without help, and to "skate like a penguin" - pushing out with her skates as she went.

Her coach, who had her hands full with lots of first time skaters, quickly noticed which kids were using the bar as a crutch and challenged them to try skating without it.

What do you know? Look at her go! If she keeps this up, we may have a tough choice next year - hockey or dance class?

Miss Independent alternated between basking in our praise, and requesting I stop taking her picture. Jeff, meanwhile, alternated between watching her practice, and keeping an eye on AJ, who was skating with some big kids on the adjoining rink.

At one point, I asked Sydney if I should go get Daddy to watch her. She told me no. I reminded her that he'd be really proud of how good she was skating. Her face broke out in a grin as she changed her mind.

There's nothing like the promise of a hug to encourage her to skate the length of the rink to see Daddy.

As luck would have it, the letter of the week in Sydney's preschool class is "S". I printed out a photo of Sydney skating for her to show to her class. Good luck to the teacher today. I have a feeling Sydney will have lots of "S" stories to share.

Fun on the sidelines

2012-01-09T07:20:00.000-06:00

As a kid, I remember sitting in the bleachers through plenty of my sister's gymnastics meets. And obviously I lived through it. Ditto for my brother's baseball and hockey games. I just don't remember them being as time intensive as what Sydney is now enduring as the younger sister of a hockey player.

Sydney has been a real trooper about coming to her brother's game and practices. Not that she has much choice. The hope of a concession stand visit is usually enough incentive to get her to grab her coat and hat and head out the door with as much as enthusiasm as her brother. (Let her change from her pink hat into her new black "ninja" hood, which you'll see in later photos, and it's even more exciting.)

At this past weekend's tournament, there was the added bonus of a playground on site.

Of course, chunks of snow/ice are also a great way to pass the time, as is any packed pile of snow that can be slid down. Sydney's made friends with many of the other players' siblings and enjoys running around with and recruiting them to join her snowball battles.

And then it's back to throwing more snow/ice. Note by mid-game, she was wearing my turquoise gloves because my white pair of gloves she'd started out in were completely soaked and frozen.

I guess I shouldn't be so worried about the unfairness of dragging her along. She's got snowballs, friends and a ninja hood on a sunny winter day, not to mention a candy-stocked concession stand. When you're four, those are all the ingredients you need for a pretty fun afternoon.

On a side note: Sydney may have set a record for the most lost/found incidents involving the same glove. She lost her new purple gloves last Thursday. I found them Saturday afternoon at the Esko warming house. She then apparently proceeded to lose them an hour later at the Duluth Heights warming house, something I discovered Sunday afternoon when I spotted it a pile on their lost and found table.

Hockey is life. Because how do you have time for anything else?

2012-01-08T10:19:00.000-06:00

Consider this your advance warning. Blog posts the next few days will likely focus primarily (if not entirely) on hockey. Why? Because Saturday marked the first of six straight days of games and practices for AJ. Plus, Sydney's Learn to Skate program begins tomorrow. Throw in a concession stand shift for me, a flood night for Jeff and a game for Jeff, and I'm thinking I want a t-shirt that says "Hockey is life. Because how do you have time for anything else?"

AJ is certainly happy to demonstrate that level of commitment. Saturday morning, I woke him up by asking, "Is there a hockey player in the house?"

He instantly sat up alert, "I know! I'm so excited!"

And that's why we do it.

This weekend's games have been in Duluth Heights. As warm as it's been, I wondered if they'd have enough ice for the tournament. Turns out, the ice was fine. It was small nets that they didn't have enough of. The solution? Tip over some regular nets and tell the kids any puck that hits metal counts as a goal. (They found more nets by mid-game.)

By the way, for anyone who's used to looking for #4, AJ got a new, bigger uniform last week. He's now #12.

I lost count of how many goals/assists AJ scored. I was more impressed with the amount of passing going on between he and his teammates, not to mention his ever increasing speed and willingness to chase the puck.

Oh yeah! There's some celebration!

Maybe it's because this is taking place during a week that marks several key anniversaries in my life. (18 years since I moved to Duluth, nine years since I started my current job.) Or maybe it's because I spent four long hours "working" in the snack shack, on a day when every hockey player in town was playing elsewhere, which gave me too much time to think... but I can't help but find a deeper... something... I can't think of the right word... in these Mite 1 tournaments.

During yesterday's games, I ran into so many people I've known from previous parts of my life (i.e. before kids.) And here we all were together again, shivering around the boards, cheering for our children. There was Mike, a former WDIO photographer who I'm pretty sure shot election night live shots for me from the very same community center that was now doubling as a warming house. I also saw Jessica, a former competitor from another TV station and volleyball teammate (who's now married to one of Jeff's colleagues.) And Tony, who interned at the police department when I covered the crime beat. Ken, a current co-worker of Jeff's. Natasha, who works for one of my clients. And Jon and Jamie Jaski, who are part of our "bonus" family. Jeff's and my third date was to Jon's high school graduation party. Fast-forward almost 15 years and our oldest kids are playing hockey against each other while our second born children are teaming up to pelt Jeff with snowballs/ice chunks.

Whatever that "something" is, that's the other reason I like hockey. There's a sense of community among all those chilly, exhausted parents. I hope it doesn't disappear as our kids get older and the games get more competitive. But for now, all I have to say is, "I've got to take off, it's my turn in concessions," and I get lots of sympathetic nods. Or talk about juggling schedules to get all the kids to all the places they need to be - and get "been there, done that" knowing looks.

On a side note, when we got home from AJ's second game, the first thing he asked Jeff was, "Want to go downstairs and play hockey?" Later, they watched hockey on TV: first the Bulldogs and then the Wild.

For two more months, our lives will revolve around hockey. And as long as everyone's having healthy fun, it's all okay with me.

An offer too good to miss

2012-01-06T08:25:00.001-06:00

In keeping with my New Year's resolution of counting my blessings and focusing on the positive, let me just say how happy I am, as an ad agency copywriter, that I don't have to write fluff/crap like this direct mail piece that came to us yesterday courtesy of the Danbury Mint. Okay, technically it was addressed to Jeff, but he was working and how could I not open an envelope marked "Attention Golden Retriever Lover"?

And boy am I glad I did. For, you see, we (Jeff) are among a limited group of customer in our area who have been selected to receive a FREE Golden Retriever Snow Globe Ornament, and it's so valuable, that it's offered for just a limited time.

Just look at that sweet puppy in the ornament. I bet he would never pull over his Christmas tree. He's too busy leaving pawprints on our hearts.

And then I looked over at our sweet puppy. He was alternating between humping a couch cushion and chewing on a handmade pillow my mom no doubt worked on for hours.

Oh, but wait, I'm apparently looking at this all wrong. Gus isn't a monstrous brat with a chewing/attitude problem. No. He's simply a "spirited Golden Retriever."

What's more, it turns out, "Golden Retrievers are people too!"

How did I not realize that all these years? I'll be sure to apologize to Gus for misunderstanding him. Right after I smack him for amputating the legs and one arm of Sydney's new Barbie/Chelsea flower girl doll she got for Christmas.

Wait! There's still more to tell you about these valuable keepsake ornaments. Each one "comes with a luxurious golden hanging cord for an eye-catching presentation on your tree." And... we'll also get a free box to put them in. But not just any box, an "elegant custom-made Keepsake Box". (Does capitalizing Keepsake Box make it sound more important? I guess their copywriter thinks so.)

And I love how the ornaments are shown hanging nicely in a row at the bottom of the tree. Clearly, the art director has never owned a golden retriever. Those amazingly detailed, finely crafted collector's items would be knocked down by the dog's tail in an instant!

But this is just such a great deal, I'm struggling to find the will-power to say no! Except... too bad we just took down the Christmas tree last week. This mailing was timed so well.

Perhaps if they'd waited a couple (or 10) months... Maybe by then Gus will be "brimming with Golden Retriever charm". Maybe then I'd consider it.

But probably not. I try really hard to not reward bad marketing.

And now, I think I'll leave this lovely piece of literature on the coffee table. Let's see how long it survives before my spirited golden retriever grabs it and rips it to shreds.

Skating daredevil

2012-01-05T06:00:00.000-06:00

Someday, my daughter will want to learn to drive. I should probably start stocking up on anti-anxiety medication right now. (For me, not her.) The thought of Sydney behind the wheel of a large vehicle that has an accelerator terrifies me. There's just something about her personality and her willingness to push herself and take risks.

I was reminded of this one recent evening when I took her skating. This was her fourth attempt on ice in the last week. The first two times were met with less than an enthusiastic response. But then on the third visit, she discovered a piece of equipment that changed everything. Forget the boring, grey metal bar. She found a new support made of white PVC pipes. Let her push that around and suddenly she's an unstoppable force. Skating suddenly ceased to be about form, technique and grace. It's all about speed.

As if to re-emphasize her point, Sydney watched the video on my phone last night and proudly bragged, "I was going super fast!"

The official Learn to Skate classes start next week. Part of me hopes the PVC bar disappears by then. If she gets to use it, I doubt she'll pay attention to the instructor. If some other child grabs it first, there will be attitude issues.

On a brighter note, it's given me an idea to perhaps dampen her enthusiasm to drive, which she could start learning to do in... gulp... eleven years. I'll just have to make sure her first car is made of boring, grey metal.

Winter doldrums

2012-01-04T06:00:00.000-06:00

Vacation time is so much more fun than the reality of routine. I don't recall exactly at what young age I learned that cold, hard truth about life, but I doubt it was as early as age six. However, for my first grader, it's a lesson he definitely picked up over Christmas break.

After 11 days of sleeping in, playing hockey and enjoying new presents; Tuesday morning marked the return to way-too-early wake-up nudges and homework centered around those dreaded lists of spelling words.

Tuesday morning dawned all too soon for AJ*, especially considering he'd laid in bed until 10:30 the night before, unable to fall asleep. He'd called me in his room at one point, almost in tears, explaining that he was trying to sleep, but his mind kept thinking of things.

Recalling difficult nights of my own in junior and senior high, when I struggled to fall asleep due to irrational fears about impossibly hard homework assignments and tests, I sympathised with my son. I laid down next to him and asked him what kinds of things he was thinking about.

"Well," he began in a rather halting voice, "sometimes I think about colors."

Okay. Not the same kind of fears.

"And sometimes I think about that story we heard on the radio," he continued.

"What story?" I asked.

"That story. It was kind of scary."

"I don't know what story you're talking about," I said. "Tell me about it."

"Well," he began and then stopped. "I guess I don't really remember what it was about."

Definitely not the same kind of fears.

Surprisingly, both kids woke up with little effort and were in fairly good moods - Sydney in particular. "I get to go to Miss Tina's class," she announced, over-enunciating each word. "And we get to do projects! But we don't get to take naps."

Hooray! School is still fun when you're four.

Alas, the early morning wake-up, combined with the lack of nap time, caught up with her early evening. She fell asleep in the car on the way to AJ's hockey practice, and - once inside the warming house - crawled up on the bench to rest while I helped AJ with this helmet and skates.

Bedtime arrived much earlier last night. Not that they climbed under the sheets any more willingly than on other nights, but they fell asleep much faster. And so it goes for another month and a half until their mid-winter break.

*Special note... AJ has reversed his earlier directive and now wants me to call him by his nickname. It's not a complete about-face. He still likes it when his friends call him Alex, he explained to me. So, for anyone reading this who doesn't fall into the category of being me or a friend, you'll have to ask him yourself what he wants you to call him.

Outdoor hockey

2012-01-03T06:30:00.000-06:00

It's that time of year again. Even though this is turning out to be the winter that wasn't, it's still cold enough for water to freeze, which means hockey has moved outside. And I ask you, have you ever seen a cuter hockey player?

While Alex visited a friend one day last week, Sydney and I tested the ice at our local rink. We've got her signed up for the Learn to Skate program, so I figured it'd be good to get in a few practices ourselves ahead of time. Sydney was very excited to get to wear her brother's hand-me-down hockey gear. It took about 20 minutes to her dressed, and to lace up skates on her and me. At last we made it to the rink.

And in less than 10 minutes she was ready to come back inside.

Doesn't it figure?

Last Friday, we returned to the rink, and this time we brought the boys with us.

It's just not even fair how much better of a skater Alex has become, compared to me. At least I didn't fall down. And the couple of times I knocked him down? Well, I'm sure he deserved it. And he was wearing pads, so it really didn't hurt him.

Sydney's interest in skating again lasted a remarkably short length of time. "I'm too cold... My legs hurt... My eyes are hot... (Huh?) My ears are cold..." She had a million reasons she needed to come inside and warm up next to the snack shack.

I let her sit in the warming house and play with my phone while Jeff, Alex and I, along with a friend of his who happened to be at the rink, all battled it out. Later, Jeff finally got Sydney to join us.

Note the activity in the background of the above photo. There were probably a dozen kids, ranging in age from six to 16 who all had meandered down to the rink at some point in the afternoon. I don't know if there were any actual teams or if anyone was really keeping score. Kids came and went, and the pick-up game continued. And so with Jeff and I focusing on helping Sydney skate, Alex happily skated off to play with the big kids.

How I love our community! Alex is the little guy wearing white, skating in the center of the photo:

When we at last announced it was time to go home, Alex didn't want to leave. (Big surprise!) He was having too much fun. He couldn't remember the names of the kids he'd played with, but was very excited that "some of the high schoolers and collegers" knew his name was AJ. (Yes, that's the term he used for the kids who must have been old enough to be in college.)

Part of me believes it's certainy possible that my son was memorable enough for them to learn his name. But then I noticed his helmet is still labeled "AJ" from hockey practice.

Still, it was a great time, and a great way to make the most of a winter afternoon.

Why do people talk about empty nest syndrome as if it's a bad thing?

2012-01-02T12:28:00.000-06:00

I had almost two hours to myself this morning. Nearly 120 minutes of blissful calm and quiet, interrupted only occasionally by the dog running through the living room with a banned item (child's toy, dirty sock, etc.) in his mouth.

And I didn't have to wake up at an insanely early hour to get this alone time. I slept until almost 9 a.m.

Let me repeat that.

I slept. Until almost 9 a.m.

And when I woke up, everyone else (except the dog, of course) continued to sleep. For almost two hours. I LOVE Christmas vacation!

I used the time to de-ornament the Christmas tree, which has begun dropping needles at an alarmingly fast rate. I would have felt guilty not letting the kids see the tree in all its glory one last time, but I'd given Sydney the option to help the night before and her response was something like, "Um, I think you should ask Alex to do it."

Clearly, her interests are in decorating. Not undecorating.

I finished the tree, and still everyone slept. And that's when inspiration struck.

I changed into a swimsuit, grabbed a mug of coffee and headed for the hot tub.

Note to self: next time put the coffee in an insulated mug. Temperatures in the teens means coffee cools pretty quickly.

Gus hasn't quite figured out (or maybe just doesn't like) playing fetch from the hot tub the way Maggie used to do. And so for the most part, he left me alone to soak and relax.

Right about the time I started to try and remember the last time I had this much time to myself in my own house, AJ's face appeared at the sliding door. Still in his pajamas, he waved to me. I waved back. And then he disappeared.

And then I had company.

A short time later, another still-groggy child appeared at the door and waved. By then, I'd been soaking long enough and was ready to get out. Luckily, Jeff had awakened and was willing to join them.

Which meant I got to sneak back into the house for 15 minutes more of blissful quiet.

I'll no doubt pay for it tonight when it's time to get my two little night owls back on a normal bedtime schedule. Reality of work and school returns tomorrow. But for this one last day, I savored the time alone. And now that I'm feeling refreshed and recharged, I will savor the time with the rest of my family.

Ringing in 2012

2012-01-01T18:22:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year! My favorite little party animals made it until midnight and happily joined us in toasting the arrival of 2012. (Though I think AJ is still a little confused why a toast involves sparkling cider and not a piece of toast.)

We spent a low-key, fun evening with several other families, all of whom we've met and become friends with because of our kids. It's interesting how our social circles have changed and evolved based on our kids and their friends. Or is it our kids have become closer friends with the children whose parents we've befriended?

Regardless, it was a fun night of talking, snacking, drinking, Nerf gun battles and hide-and-seek. Alas, the evening came to an end far too soon for someone's liking.

In tears, Sydney insisted she wasn't tired and wasn't ready to go home. I should note: she slept until 10:30 this morning.

AJ, meanwhile, is already asking which holiday will give him the next chance to stay up until midnight. He thinks July 4th would be a good occasion.

As for New Year's resolutions, I've already blown my annual attempt at quitting my nail biting habit. Stopping pen chewing still has a chance, primarily because I've been home all day with no reason to touch a pen. But my biggest goal for 2012 is a change in attitude. I resolve to spend more time recognizing the many blessings in my life and less time complaining and worrying about what I don't have or what I might want. I have a wonderful family and we are together and in good health. Period. Everything else is secondary. And as long as I remember that, it will indeed be a happy New Year.

Ninja time!

2011-12-31T15:32:00.000-06:00

Imagine yourself in this scenario: You've spent the afternoon outside playing hockey. When you return, you take off the pads but continue wearing your long johns, all of which are black. And then you happen to see two long cardboard tubes leftover from some wrapping paper.

I ask you - who wouldn't recognize the ninja opportunities?

Happy New Year to all and best wishes that your 2012 is full of imagination and fun!

Christmas Day marathon

2011-12-30T20:09:00.004-06:00

Day two of multiple gift openings dawned a little earlier than I would have liked (thanks a lot, Gus) but it was probably a good thing. We had lots of places to be, people to see and presents to unwrap.

Breakfast brought more cousin time as we headed to my brother and sister-in-law's for crepes. Here they are: all six of them in front of Zane's "really big tree".

Two highlights for Alex: an art set and a Minnesota Wild hat (How obsessed is he with the Minnesota Wild right now? The first words out of his mouth this morning were: "Guess what! The Wild finally won last night!" Later, while riding in the car, he spotted the temperature gauge which read 22 degrees. To which he noted, "22! That's Cal Clutterbuck's number!")

Turns out the art set was a hit with more than just Alex.

Finn sat happily in awe of all the commotion.

And, as all good babies should do, he was as thrilled with the wrapping paper as he was with the gifts.

And then it was time to take off and head back north. With barely enough time to run in the house, drop off our gifts and load up another basket of gifts to give; we headed for our next destination - the Jaski's.

My poor camera battery simply couldn't keep up with so many gift openings. Sadly, after just one shot, it was done. So no pictures this year of the chaos in the living room as way too many people crowd into way too small of a space for a flying wrapping paper free-for-all. Despite that, I think I can again use thequality over quantity argument. This adorable shot features the newest family member: five-month-old Zoe.

The two-day marathon caught up with us way too soon, and so we headed home where yet even more gifts awaited. Santa had shown up overnight and at last the kids had a chance to dig through their stockings.

Every year I vow we're going to simplify the holidays and spend a little more time at home. But I've yet to figure out what I'm willing to eliminate to make that happen. And so I will wrap up my Christmas reflections by focusing on my many blessings. I am thankful for the miracle of Christ's birth. And I am thankful for good health, weather, roads and the love of family and friends.

Christmas Eve marathon

2011-12-29T06:55:00.001-06:00

I don't even know where to begin. Multiple gift openings in multiple towns and homes over two days. The kids, of course, love it. Jeff and I, meanwhile, are exhausted.

It might have had something to do with having to stay up until 2:30 in the morning trying to wrap presents and assemble "My delightful dollhouse" for Sydney. (Clearly, "delightful" refers to the child's reaction to the three-story Barbie house, not the assemblers'.)

So it seemed that Christmas Eve dawned all too early for those of us who'd stayed up way too late. But the kids' excitement could not be contained, and we had places to go and people to see, and so we let them rip into their gifts.

Quite possibly the most exciting gift ever! The Lego police station Alex has been begging for since last summer.

Most of Sydney's gifts were Barbie-related, but she loved the Cinderella doll that can be friends with her Belle and Rapunzel.

And then it was time to get going. As Jeff and I packed, the ids took care of one important order of business... the spreading of magic reindeer food (oatmeal mixed with glitter) to make sure Santa and his entourage would have no problem finding our house. This seems to be a preschool tradition because I recall Alex bringing home a similar bag of supposed reindeer treats. Alex seemed to have a strategy for placement of said oatmeal/glitter this year. Rather than sprinkling it along the sidewalk, they dumped half the bag in the snow outside Sydney's window and the other half outside of Alex's.

And then it was off to the Cities, first for the candlelight service at my parents' church.

Followed by a birthday dinner for my brother-in-law. And then at last, the moment the kids had been waiting for: more presents.

Discovering the joy of giving, Sydney seemed as excited to help Bella (the chihuahua) open her carefully selected presents, as she was to open her own.

The highlight for Alex: a real army surplus helmet. With a little help from Dad, he figured out how to strap it on, and how to hold his hand for a salute.

After the gift opening, we broke with tradition a bit. Instead of staying up late watching a movie, we stayed up late playing Wii bowling.

At last we headed back to my parents' house where my overly energized kids managed to stay awake past midnight. It may have been even later, but that's when I fell asleep on the living room floor. And

that's just the first half of our mad holiday scramble. More tomorrow...

Baking cookies

2011-12-28T09:50:00.001-06:00

It's not misleading to say we baked cookies if we used store-bought dough, right? Because, technically, we did still bake the cookies.

And in this instance, we even added a little flour to the cookie dough, so there was some mixing involved.

Granted, we did it all by hand - no mixer needed - but it was enough to give Sydney's 4.5-year-old attention span a taste of what a cookie-baking experience is like.

And she loved it! And she did it herself. (Except when she needed Mommy's help.)

The motivation for all of this was an angel-shaped, metal cookie cutter that we'd picked up a week earlier while Christmas shopping. Sydney had been putting in daily requests to finally get a chance to use it. So I picked up some sugar cookie dough and put her to work.

We used half the dough for angel cookies. The other half, we rolled into balls, which we then rolled in sugar. (After they baked, we topped them with Hershey Kisses.)

Oddly enough, now that they're done, Sydney's only eaten one or two of them. Mommy, Alex and Grandma Lynne certainly are appreciating them. (Daddy has stronger will-power.)

Maybe next year we'll set aside an afternoon for some real, start-to-finish, baking. If only we could find something to make that's not so fattening.

Turn off the lights. Christmas is over.

2011-12-26T23:37:00.002-06:00

And just like that, the party's over. Christmas 2011 has come and gone. The insanity of gift buying and wrapping, Christmas cards and other preparations has given way to the insanity of cleaning up wrapping paper and boxes, trying to find space for all the kids' new toys, and sorting what to throw in the garbage versus recycling.

Thankfully, in the midst of the hectic craziness, we found time to enjoy each other. For instance, Friday night we toured Bentleyville.

I think we picked the best night possible to walk through this incredible display of lights. It had snowed Friday... not a lot, but the most we've seen all season, so the ground was covered at last. And the temperatures stayed mild, so we didn't feel a need to rush to stay warm.

The giant tree was beautiful, and I love the new star on top.

AJ was excited to roast marshmallows. Sydney, meanwhile, was... well... not so excited.

Sydney didn't want to waste time by the fire. She had something to prove.

She had someone to find.

Rudolph.

Last year, we'd taken a picture of AJ with Bentleyville's iconic mascot. At the time, Sydney had been too scared. I'd forgotten about that but, clearly, she hadn't. This was one more item on her checklist to prove how brave she is now that she's four and a half.

Mission accomplished!

Merry Christmas to all

2011-12-24T12:06:00.002-06:00

I'm going to spend at least the next 36 hours focusing on my family (and no doubt gathering ideas for many blog posts to come.)

Here's a look at our Christmas card picture and letter.

I've been stalling for a week, trying to summarize the 2011 chapterof our lives in a way that's conciseand interesting to anyone other than us. Coming up dry, I turned to my twogreatest sources of inspirationand asked them what we should write in our Christmas letter.

"Merry Christmas. I'm sure you're on the goodlist." That was the suggestion from Alex, our first grader formerly knownas AJ who's now decided he wants more letters in his name.

Sydney's idea: "Let's put in something that gives them goodluck. Not bad luck." Our well-intentioned almost four and a half year old thenheaded into the kitchen in search of something lucky to put in the letter.

"How about if we just write 'We wish you good luck inthe New Year'?" I suggested to her.

"No," Sydney wrinkled her nose. "Maybe weshould just give them something to eat."

"That'd probably be too messy," I started toexplain.

"No, Gus, NOOOOO!" Sydney shrieked, suddenlydistracted. "Mom, Gus has something in his mouth!"

And there's your glimpse of life in the Kazel house in 2011.

It's been a busy year. The kids keep us running four nightsa week. Alex is in hockey and Sydney has started dance class. When we are home,we're chasing the newest addition to the family, a stubborn but loveablesix-month-old golden retriever named Gus who chews on anything and everythingand recently managed to pull over our 10-foot Christmas tree.

Whose idea was it to get a puppy?

In his defense, Gus has the very difficult job of followingin the paw prints of Maggie, our much-loved golden who died last spring. Ourever-cranky 17-year-old cat, Spike, isn't too pleased to have a puppy in herhouse. But Gus is adapting well, and the kids adore him. When he's notdestroying their toys.

So what else is there to tell? The children, of course,remain brilliant, adorable and perfectly behaved. Sometimes.

In school, Alex likes recess best, followed by math, readingand anything related to history. World War II and the Titanic are favoritetopics for library books. "Because that's important," he tells us. Hewishes his social studies class could focus more on history. "All welearned is where St. Paul is and the Mississippi River," was a recentcomplaint.

Sydney, meanwhile, is in the school readiness preschoolprogram and is quite excited when she can do "homework" and craftprojects at the dining room table. She loves anything connected to Barbie andDisney princesses, and will very proudly tell you she's not afraid of mascotsanymore. She even posed for a picture with Champ the Bulldog at a UMD hockeygame.

As for Jeff and me, we just keep doing our best to keep upwith the kids and enjoy this wonderful, crazy life with which we've beenblessed. And so, as 2011 draws to a close, we wish a Merry Christmas, and NewYear filled with good luck... to all ofyou who've earned a spot on the nice list.

Mite 1 * Year 3

2011-12-23T10:23:00.000-06:00

When Alex started hockey, I brought my camera to just about every practice and certainly to every game. I took dozens of pictures each time showing Alex's progress learning to skate and the fundamentals of the game.

Last year, I still did a pretty good job in the role of proud hockey mom. Not quite as many pictures, but still plenty.

Now it's year three. We're about halfway through the season. And I finally remembered to bring the camera.

Here he is at practice. He's the one in the white helmet. It seems like just yesterday he was one of the boys in the middle of the rink, pushing a chair for balance. And now he's the tallest kid on his team, skating faster and more comfortably than I can. (Can I use that as my excuse for the lack of photos? It's tough to get a clear shot of him now that he's so fast. Almost as tough as it is to take a picture when you forget the camera at home for two months.)

The biggest thing Alex needs to work on is his aggresiveness. More specifically - his lack there of. He skates fast and shoots well, but if there's a group of kids swarming for a puck, Alex is much happier waiting back in hopes his team gets the puck and passes it to him. Among the shouts I hear from his coaches: "Get in there! Fight for it, AJ! We don't have goalies in this game." (The coaches still call him AJ, most of the time. They've figured out, as I have, that while he prefers to be called Alex, he responds more quickly to AJ.)

Next year, when he advances to Mite 2s, which uses goalies, guess what position Alex hopes to play. I wonder if he realizes he'll have to confront all kinds of skaters in that position?

Last Saturday, he played in his first tournament. We missed three of the four games due to family Christmas events. (Who thought it'd be a good idea to schedule a tournament on the weekend before Christmas? That's such a calm weekend. Nobody has anything better to do that weekend like shopping, wrapping presents, baking, Christmas programs, Christmas parties, etc. Brilliant!)

Anyway... here's a look at how he's doing. Sorry for the blurry video. My camera's not used to having to focus in cold ice arenas.

In theory, practice moves to the outdoor rink right after the New Year. As warm as the weather has been, we'll have to see how that goes. But I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures. Maybe not of Alex, but of Sydney, who will be starting in the Learn to Skate program.

Such a blessing!

2011-12-21T23:15:00.002-06:00

I wonder if I could get away with a look like this: wide-eyed, unblinking daze with small bubbles of saliva on the verge of running down the cheeks.

The next time I have to sit through a meeting that's running way too long, or listen to a client who clearly doesn't understand what's in their best interest, I think I'll give it a try. Wish me luck. I'll let you know if it works for me.

It's a look that definitely works for my sweet and adorable nephew Finn. Though I suspect he was trying to communicate something as well. Perhaps he was suggesting that he'd had his picture taken one too many times. Or maybe he was just tired of well-intentioned family members showering him with a little too much affection on his baptism day.

I have to say, Finn was wonderfully behaved and made the event go much more easily than perhaps we deserved. You see, there's a little history here. And if Karma were to play a role, then Jeff and I should have been stuck in front of hundreds of people holding a screaming baby.

Because that's what Sydney did to Eric and Sarah, her godparents, when she was baptised.

But as it turned out, Finn's baptism took place in a side room after church, with his parents - not his godparents - holding him as holy water trickled over his head. And he remained happy throughout.

My kids thought the whole thing was great. They got a front row spot to watch it all. Alex thought it was quite funny to hear the story of his sister's baptism melt-down. (To call it a "crying fit" seems too gentle of a description. "Exorcism screams" might be more accurate.) I wonder if enough time has passed that Eric and Sarah might find humor in it too? When we got home Sunday night, Alex asked to hear more about his own baptism, and was excited to look through an old photo album at pictures of himself as a baby.

God bless you, Finn. Jeff and I are honored to be your godparents.

The hockey practice/lost tooth incident

2011-12-20T23:17:00.000-06:00

Alex came home from hockey practice with a special souvenir Monday. And I'm not talking about the trophy he belatedly received from playing in a tournament in Two Harbors last weekend.

Baby tooth #5 has departed from his jaw.

Before I could congratulate him on becoming a real hockey player - Wow! That must have been some practice if he got a tooth knocked out!?! - Alex explained the tooth had been really loose and he'd been wiggling it with his tongue while waiting for practice to start. One bump as he put in his mouth guard was all it took for the tooth to come out.

I credit one of his coaches with quick and resourceful thinking. Do you see the tooth?

Look closely at the tag. "Coach Bob" apparently grabbed a piece of hockey tape and stuck the tooth to Alex's bag. Hooray! The tooth made it home safely to be presented to the tooth fairy.

Alex didn't seem to fully appreciate or comprehend all that Coach Bob did for him. He was too focused on one small detail.

"I had to play hockey with blood in my mouth," Alex told me.

Oh. My. Goodness! I bet he's the only hockey player ever to have that experience. (If I'm remembering correctly, I believe Jeff's comment was, "Join the club.")

This morning, Alex actually seemed disappointed to find a dollar under his pillow.

"Some of my friends get $2, and Hannah once got a $20!" He told me.

I pointed out that I used to get a dime for each tooth.

So here are my newest tooth fairy rules:

Unless a parent is totally out of smaller bills and is desperate, there's absolutely no excuse for giving your child a $20. You're simply setting unreasonable expectations for the rest of us.
If you're organized enough to have a stash of $2 bills on hand for such occasions, I like you even less.
And most important rule of all... the tooth fairy should not be expected to put in an appearance during the same week as Santa Claus.

Picture perfect family gatherings

2011-12-19T23:11:00.002-06:00

It's a good thing I'm not the family historian. Sunday afternoon we spent several very enjoyable hours with the uncles, aunts and cousins on my dad's branch of the family tree. And when all was said and done (and uploaded), I'd taken exactly... count 'em... (or should I say count it)... one photo.

At least I can make an argument about quality is more important than quantity, because I captured an awesome, unstaged moment.

My cousin Joy's daughter, who is just a few weeks younger than Alex, had been given an early Christmas present - a Squinkies toy. It just so happens that Squinkies are one of about 23,000 toys on my daughter's wish list this year. And Lily was gracious enough to allow Sydney to play with her and the new toy.

Note the look of concentration on the girls' faces as they tried to figure out how to get the little toy-filled balls to come rolling out of the house/dispenser. Even better, note how Lily has sweetly wrapped her hand over Sydney's. Too precious! (Assuming that's a friendly, gentle hand-holding moment and not Lily's subtle attempt to keep Sydney's hands off her new toys. Yes, I like the sweet/precious interpretation much better!)

So never mind that I have absolutely no pictures of the rest of the family. No shots of Jeff in the basement where we'd smuggled Gus for the afternoon. No pictures of my brother's two adorable boys. No photos of my cousin's 19-month-old son Sawyer who'd just had yet another surgery and was as happy as could be. No recorded images of Alex yelling "you're the headless horseman!" at his cousin Jonathon who patiently continued playing with him anyway.

The Squinkies shot is it. At least it was a moment of peace and harmony. Perfect for Christmas.

The Christmas magic begins

2011-12-18T22:30:00.004-06:00

We don't quite get 12 days of Christmas, but if you add up all the holiday gatherings we attend each year, it seems we get pretty close.

Saturday night was the first of those events - the annual LeVahn family Christmas. The adults may look at the evening as a time to visit with family and savor their Swedish heritage. But for the kids, this gathering has always been about one thing - Santa.

This year was no different. We'd barely set foot inside the church when my kids started asking when Santa was going to get there. "After dinner," I told them.

They snarfed down their food in record time. "Now is Santa coming?"

"Not yet. I'm sure it will be soon," I said, staring around the room at the adults still busy talking.

At last, dishes were cleared and the singing began. That's always a good sign that Santa must be on his way. My little entertainers, happy to have an audience, were more than willing to sing along.

Pardon the blurry video at the beginning, and the laughter-inducing shakiness midway through. Sydney's reaction is simply too awesome...

My kids came prepared to charm old St. Nick. Each had created a craft project just for him, and eagerly presented him with their art work.

At last came the moment they'd been waiting for. Santa opened his sack and started calling names. Oh, the excitement! I question if Sydney even remembered what she had asked for. But she was thrilled to rip off the wrapping paper and find Barbie from Princess Charm School.

AJ, meanwhile, was almost shaking with excitement. A Lego police boat. And it was his!

Amazingly, 24 hours after opening their gifts, all the pieces are still present and accounted for. It's a Christmas miracle!

The best homework ever

2011-12-15T07:09:00.002-06:00

In the history of homework assignments, not to mention all that are to come, none will ever be more perfect than what Sydney was supposed to do last night. It started with cutting out pictures from catalogs and magazines of things she'd like and then gluing them to a piece of paper.

After that, we headed downstairs to "play holiday music and dance."

It just so happened that Sydney had been at dance class earlier in the evening and so was already wearing the perfect outfit, and was more than happy to teach Mommy some of her moves. Though sometimes she prefered, instead of dancing, to pretend she was a beautiful skater.

On a side note, Jeff deserves credit for getting her ready for dance class, and not doing anything ridiculously silly or wrong. Leotard, tights, leg warmers and even a hair band (the necklace was a treat from preschool that she has yet to take off) - Jeff did good.

Alex of course had to again complain about the absolute unfairness of the homework assignments. He had to write all of his spelling words. Five times. And that was way too hard. A little hockey in the basement was the perfect incentive for him to stop whining and get his work done.

Basement hockey is the winter equivalent of front yard football in the fall, I've decided. It's one of those things that I tell myself I don't have the energy to do. And then when I finally start playing, I discover myself having fun and becoming more energized than I was at the beginning.

Alex time

2011-12-14T06:25:00.001-06:00

In some ways, my children are so different, and in other ways they share universal priorities. After spending a few hours Christmas shopping with Sydney last Friday, I repeated the one-on-one shopping adventures with Alex the next day.

My son was fine with skipping the stores featuring Christmas decorations. It was much more fun to visit stores with Legos.

Of course the high point of the day, as had been the case with his sister, was stopping for lunch at a restaurant. I talked him out of McDonald's since that's where I'd dined with Sydney the day before. He picked Taco John's at the mall food court, but at the last minute, as we turned into the mall parking lot, he spotted Culver's, and so we quickly changed course. Potato Olés are wonderful, but they just can't compete with frozen custard.

We at last reached the mall, where we first focused on finding a gift for Alex to give to his sister. After that, we picked up a few more items on my list. "Am I the hero?" he asked after successfully spotting a shirt we'd been seeking in the right size hanging on a display.

The last of our stops was at JCPenney. I found the gift I needed and then, because I still had a coupon left, suggested we look at clothes for Alex. I figured he could use one more sweater to get him through the many family gatherings we'll be attending in the next few weeks.

Alex wasn't interested in a sweater, however. My six-year-old instead chose...

Your eyes are not deceiving you. Alex was beyond excited to have his very own dress shirt, tie and pin-striped pants. The only disappointment for him was that we didn't pick up a suit coat at the same time.

Of course, once you're dressed for success, you must accessorize. "I need that thing you carry to work. A briefcase."

(Never mind that neither Jeff nor I carry a briefcase to work.) I dug out Jeff's old one from his insurance-selling days and told Alex to be careful not to get dust on his new pants.

He's not ready to give up on his dreams of being a soldier and a cop. But if this is his preferred style of dress, I might have to suggest he become a detective.

Sydney time

2011-12-13T06:49:00.000-06:00

One of the things I love about kids is their simplistic outlook on life. Sometimes it's exactly what I need to remind me to stop worrying about things I can't control. Problems at work due to an unexpectedly cut budget? What good can come from stressing about it at home? Especially when a Barbie tea party is about to begin in the enchanted forest.

Jeff's Aunt Dee once again has showed her amazing generosity (and very impressive gift wrap abilities) by showering the kids with some early Christmas presents. The Barbie in the turquoise dress reigned supreme, inviting other Barbies to join her. The only requirement was a strict dress code. The party started with an insistance that everyone wear a gown and a crown. A shortage of crowns ended that rule, but the long dress rule remained in effect.

I think it's safe to say that the Christmas season is Sydney's favorite time of the year. The gifts, of course, are nice, but she also loves the decorations. I took her shopping Friday and she was in awe. Pier One Imports and Hallmark are both now known as the Christmas Store. So many ornaments. So little time.

Barnes and Noble is another favorite shopping destination for her. Though in her innocence, she calls it the library at the mall.

As we made our way through the mall Friday, I asked her if she had any ideas for a gift for Daddy. Hmmm.... she thought hard, then held her finger in the air as inspiration struck. "I know. We could get him a Thundar the Barbarian movie. He likes Thundar."

If I thought it was possible to find a DVD of the hideous 70s cartoon, I'd help her buy it. What a perfect way to reward Jeff for upgrading our satellite service to include the Boomerang network. As it is, I guess we'll keep looking.

And I'll keep enjoying all the magic and wonder of Christmas that I get to see through the eyes of my kids.

Christmas carols

2011-12-12T07:00:00.000-06:00

"Being a writer is like always having homework."

I've seen this quote attributed to several people, and I absolutely love it. It totally explains why I feel a never-ending need to write. Especially about my kids. They do things, and I want to write about it, to record it so it's never forgotten it. Most of the time, the writing is an absolute pleasure. Only rarely does it actually feel like homework. Such as when I should be writing about yet another elementary school choir concert.

Now you know why I haven't written the last two days. I had nothing particularly inspiring to write about it, and with Christmas preparations reaching the frantic stage, I was able to find plenty of distractions.

Here's a very, very short clip of one of the songs.

Now, imagine listening to that while sitting on hard wooden bleachers, packed into a gym for an hour with hundreds of other family members, which meant the temperature quickly rose to uncomfortably warm levels. Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas!

A few random thoughts worth mentioning:

I've lived in our small town long enough to realize that any time you see a dramatic increase in traffic on our main road, it means one of three things: It's the community wide garage sale, it's election day or there's a music concert at the school.
Kudos again to the music teachers and school administrators. They started off the program with kindergartners singing Away in a Manger. How's that for a statement about keeping Christ in Christmas and in the schools? Loved it! (Incidentally, each grade sang three songs, one of which had a religious theme.)
The opposite of kudos to the third grade teachers who thought it'd be a good idea to send the gingerbread house class projects home with students after the concert. Trying to retrieve your child from his/her classroom after the concert isn't hard enough, trying to squeeze up the twisting staircase along with hundreds of other parents/grandparents who aren't completely sure where they're going. So let's hand out fragile art projects for parents to balance on large trays as they squeeze into the mob. That doesn't further slow down the flow of traffic at all. Good thinking!
Next year should actually be easier. Sydney will be in kindergarten, which means it'll be her teacher's job to keep her busy while the rest of the kids are performing.

Oh Christmas Tree - part II

2011-12-09T08:12:00.001-06:00

I am happy to report after Sunday's Christmas tree disaster, that our oversized evergreen is not only once again upright, it has stayed upright ever since.

We spread the re-decorating efforts over two nights. Jeff and I maneuvered the tree out of its broken stand and into the newer, industrial strength version Monday night. I let him do the stretching to put the star at the top of the tree, and then followed with lights and garland.

We waited until Tuesday to make sure those initial decorations survived, and then unleashed the kids with the box of ornaments.

Sadly, we discovered the ornament casualty rate was slightly higher than first realized. The number destroyed has risen to two, plus one is seriously wounded. But luck remains on our side. The second broken ball was identical to the first - part of a set of four I'd picked up at a post-Christmas clearance sale years ago that has no particular sentimental value. Meanwhile, the injured ornament - Mom, take note - is the ball my Mom made for Jeff. Somehow the hook and couple beads at the very top have come off. The ornament is intact, but I just have no way to hang it on the tree. I can't find the original pieces. They may still be in the tree somewhere. But I'm assuming this is a fairly easy thing to repair.

Alex (I need to get in the habit of calling him by his real name, not his nickname.) helped hang ornaments for a few minutes - just long enough to annoy his sister by commandeering the step ladder. But then, to Sydney's delight, he got distracted by something on TV, which meant she got the ladder and decorations all to herself.

Sound the trumpets. Ring the jingle bells. Sing a Halleluia. The tree again looks glorious.

For his part, Gus has mostly avoided the tree. He's hit it with his tail a few times, and of course had to sniff the new tree base. But we've consistently scolded enough that he - amazingly - seems to have lost interest in it.

One morning earlier this week, I'd let him outside in the backyard as is our routine. When he reappeared at the door, ready to come inside, he carried a small pine sprig in his mouth. (Most likely it was one of the small pieces Jeff had trimmed off.) The way Gus was carrying it seemed almost symbolic - a naughty puppy's way of extending an olive branch.

Of course then he ran past me, circled the couch a few times like a maniac and plopped down and began chewing it.

(Sigh.) As beautiful, big and expensive as the tree is, this just may be the one year I'm ready to take it down December 26.

Christmas card pictures

2011-12-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

'Tis the season when I force my family to dress up in festive finery, gather close, stand still and smile brightly. Yes, it's time for the annual Christmas card photo.

This year, for added fun, we decided to use our fireplace as a backdrop. You know, the fireplace that was buried under so many children's toys it took us 45 minutes to sort and clean it all up. Yes, that fireplace. And then, as an added bonus, due to some technical difficulties with a camera lens, we got to do it not just once, but twice! (A huge thank you to my very busy friend Crystal for volunteering on two different days to try and make this crazy crew look good.)

As I looked at the proofs, comparing the good ones and laughing at the outtakes, I couldn't help but think about yesterday's blog post. I'd complained about my kids' lack of smiling in photos with Santa.

It just might be in their genes.

Our cat has become amazingly good at avoiding this annual bit of torture. Both times, as soon as Crystal showed up, Spike ran and successfully hid. Meanwhile, Gus did fairly well. Jeff's iron grip on his collar may have had something to do with that. I warned Gus he better just learn to accept it. This is just one of those things that'll be expected of him for as long as he's in the family.

Santa pictures

2011-12-07T06:34:00.001-06:00

Dear Santa,

What I want for Christmas is two kids who can smile nicely on command for the camera. They both used to be really good at doing it. And goodness knows, as often as I take their pictures for this blog, it's not that they lack practice. AJ generally still smiles nicely, but every so often just seems to forget how to do it. Meanwhile, Sydney has started this silly, prissy squint that she thinks makes her look like a Disney princess.

You know what I'm talking about, Santa. You saw it first hand when you showed up at the kids' school for the annual Pancake Breakfast with Santa.

I will admit, perhaps it has something to do with the photographer (yours truly), because I managed to catch even you with some odd expressions.

Photo opps aside, Santa, thanks for listening to my kids' requests. AJ has been wanting a Lego police boat for a very long time. Sydney, if you couldn't understand her mumbling, was trying to tell you she wants the Barbie Princess Charm School version of a Barbie doll.

I hope you had a chance to get some pancakes, Santa. They were pretty good. Though watching Sydney turn her breakfast into finger food made me glad we'd had pictures taken before we ate.

And even though he wouldn't smile for me, AJ made me proud. As we went through the line, he told the Boy Scout leader servers, "Two pancakes, please." They told him he was the first child to say "please" all morning.

So anyway, Santa, I've got my stocking in its usual place, and while I'm no mother-of-the-year, I've done my best this year. If you can help me out with this smile request, I'd appreciate it. See you at Christmas!

And that's how a ridiculously expensive 12-foot Christmas tree ended up draped across my couch

2011-12-06T07:00:00.000-06:00

It all started so innocently. One of those wonderful family traditions that marks the coming of Christmas. Jeff and I took the kids to our favorite tree lot in search of the perfect tree. I probably should feel guilty that we've never given the kids the experience of trudging through the woods to cut down our own tree, but the guy we go to has a real sword from Thailand hanging on his garage wall, and for AJ, seeing that sword each year is the most exciting part of the Christmas tree selection process.

We looked at the trees in his garage, and they were all lovely. But me, always wanting to know my options, headed outside to check the trees propped along the fence. And that's where I saw my top pick. I called Jeff over to get his opinion. (Jeff's usually pretty agreeable if it means we can get out of there faster.)

Jeff pulled the tree away from the fence so we could see it upright. It still looked beautiful, though was bigger than I'd realized.

Note: Jeff's version of the next portion of the story is probably a little different than mine, but since he doesn't blog (and generally doesn't read what I write), guess whose version counts as the official one?

Me: "Oh... do you think it's too tall?"

Jeff: "It's fine. Have we ever had a tree too tall for our ceiling?"

(For anyone not familiar with my living room, it has a really high vaulted ceiling, though the tree sits in a corner where the ceiling's not all that high.)

Me: "This tree doesn't have a tag. We should ask how much it costs."

Jeff: (calling to the tree guy) "We're going to take this one."

The guy came over and helped Jeff carry the tree over to our minivan. He grabbed some twine and tied it to the roof. And that's when Jeff got around to asking, "So, how much is this one?"

I"m not going to list the price the man quoted. Suffice it to say it was $15-$20 more than we've ever paid before. Jeff tried bargaining down the price by $10. The guy said no. It was, after all, a really big tree. And it was already tied to our roof.

Jeff paid full price. We loaded the kids in the minivan, and headed home, with AJ happily chatting about how cool it was to see the sword again.

So just how big/heavy is the tree? Note Jeff's facial expression as he unloaded it.

AJ eagerly volunteered to help carry the tree through the yard to the back door. Ahhh... such a Rockwell moment.

Jeff wrestled the tree through the sliding door and together we got it into the tree stand, only to discover...

the tree

was too

tall.

We carefully slid the tree away from the wall until we reached a spot where the top of the tree cleared the ceiling. There was now enough space for Gus and the kids to squeeze between the wall and the tree.

Does anyone else sense disaster looming?

Rather than take the tree back outside and saw a foot off the bottom, Jeff thought it'd be easier to trim the top. He grabbed a step ladder and pruning clippers from the garage, and went to work. To his credit, it looked fine when he finished (as opposed to the lopped off trees you often see beneath power lines) and we were able to slide the tree closer to the corner.

I filled the base with water and covered it with a tree skirt. And then we let it sit for a few hours. Gus, of course, was curious, and so we did our best to yell and instill the fear of God in him any time he got close.

After hockey practice and dinner - by then, Jeff had left for work - I at last let my little decorators go to work.

The kids loved looking through the box of tree ornaments. Some they remember from years past, especially the ones they've made. Of course those were the first to hang on the tree.

It took a step ladder and some stretching, but we did it! I e-mailed Jeff a picture so he could admire our handiwork, noting that he was going to have to straighten the star on top when he got home. I just couldn't reach high enough.

And then I happened to get a photo that reminded me of my earlier fears.

In fact, after the kids went to bed, I started thinking about my next blog post. I figured I'd use a caption with the above photo saying something like "anyone want to guess the odds of the tree surviving the season?"

But before I took time to write, I ran to the bathroom to take out my contact lenses. And it was then that I heard a noise. The distinctive clang of a large jingle bell ornament. I ran from my room, praying that Gus had simply knocked the ornament from the tree. But when I rounded the corner into the living room I saw...

Disaster realized!

Gus had pulled the entire tree over onto the couch.

Fearing everything from an electrical fire to water damage (The gallon of water I'd poured into the tree stand had all spilled out. Water tends to do that.) I unplugged the lights and did my best to lift the tree. Not an easy task. And once I got it upright, there was no way to leave it standing because the legs of the tree base were now seriously mangled.

Leaving it leaning against the couch, I grabbed towels and started sopping up water. Then I resumed my tugging, trying to pull the tree over to some wooden flooring near the door. I succeeded, but again was trapped because I couldn't let go of the tree. I finally dragged it back into the corner and propped it.

Bad, bad dog. Look ashamed!

I called Jeff and said I needed help. While I waited for him, I did my best to clean sap out of the inch-long gash I'd gotten in my finger at some point. Once Jeff got home, we moved the tree. He held it upright while I used towels to soak up more water, and then re-propped the tree. Jeff went back to work. I went to bed. Gus stayed in his kennel. Amazingly, only one ornament didn't survive the fall and, thankfully, it was a simple glass ball with no sentimental value.

Yesterday morning, I put a positive spin on the situation for the kids. "Hey, remember how much fun it was to decorate the tree? We get to do it all again!"

Jeff bought a new, stronger tree stand, so the tree is again upright. We'll re-decorate it tonight. Gus is still alive. He's acting relatively meek. Sometimes.

Ahhh.. the joy of the holidays. Let's hope this particular event doesn't become a tradition.

Let's see if his enthusiasm lasts through February

2011-12-04T11:34:00.000-06:00

The first time it snowed, a week or so ago, AJ excitedly asked if he could go outside and shovel. We had other things to do at the time, and then it was too dark, and then there was some other reason that kept him from going outside. Bottom line... by the time he had a chance to shovel, the light dusting had melted.

Luckily for him, as is all too often the case, Mother Nature gave him a second chance last week. It snowed Wednesday night. Hockey practice Thursday kept him from getting outside before dark, but by Friday, he was not going to be denied.

AJ got off the bus, saw Sydney and I playing outside, and dropped his backpack on the porch and ran for his shovel.

It was little more than a dusting of snow, but we'd driven over it enough to pack it down. I told AJ he didn't have to shovel the snow with tire marks, but Mr. O-C-D insisted he wanted to clear the entire driveway.

He got about halfway done Friday, but then needed to come inside to warm up. Saturday afternoon he headed back outside to finish the job. He was so proud he insisted Jeff and I come outside to look. (We compromised by looking out the window and praising him profusely.) The entire driveway was clear.

Just in time for it to snow again Saturday night.

After Sunday School today, AJ couldn't wait to put on his snowpants and head back out again.

Part of me wants to tell AJ to save his enthusiasm for a real snowfall. It's going to be a long winter. Thankfully, We're already a month into it, with barely any measurable snow.

The responsibilities of a first grader

2011-12-02T07:46:00.001-06:00

Friday mornings are a mixed bag for AJ. On one hand, he knows the weekend is oh so close. But before he can stay up late and sleep in the next morning, he has to get through one more spelling test. And, apparently, one more day of other classroom responsibilities.

"Today I get a new job!" He announced, looking for a bright spot in the day.
"Oh? You mean in class? That's nice. What's the job you've been doing?"

"Um... uh..." (many seconds pass as he tried to remember his current position)..."I'm the Supply Manager."

What do you do as the supply manager?" I asked. "Do you make sure the teacher has enough markers and things?"

"I bring supplies to the tables," AJ told me. "But only four to each table."

(Clearly an important point to remember.)

"How often do you get a new job?" I asked.
"Pretty much, um, I think mostly every week."
"I see. So of all the jobs you've had, what's your favorite so far?"
"Being president."
I should have known. "What do you get to do when you're president?"

"You move the names back."

"You move the names back? What does that mean?"
Gesturing with his arms, as if he's holding a pointer, AJ explained, "In the morning, we move our names up on the board when we get there."

"Ah, on the smart board you mean? That's how you show you're there for attendance?"

"Yeah. And at the end of the day I get to move all the names back down."

"Oh. I can see why that's fun. So how do you decide who gets what job?"
"Mrs. Baird puts our names..." (hand gestures again as if he's pulling a name from a bowl) "... and then she picks them."

"So you have a drawing each week," I clarified.

"But it's names. A name drawing."

"Got it! Well good luck with the new job."

Friday afternoon, AJ came home from school with a sticker on his shirt. An indication that he did a good job this week as Supply Manager.

And what's his new job? Bathroom Monitor.

He's excited.

Whatever makes him happy, I guess.

Visions of sugar plums...

2011-12-02T07:16:00.001-06:00

Sydney had every intention of staying up late and gloating about it to her brother, but then...

Thursday nights are always a little tricky. AJ has to go to bed at the normal time because he has school the next day. However Sydney stays home with me Fridays, and I like when she sleeps in, which means I like to let her stay up late - later than her brother - on Thursday nights.

AJ's pretty much gotten past the "it's not fair" stage, and has moved toward acceptance. That doesn't stop Sydney however from asking each week, "Is this the day I get to stay up later than AJ?"

And so last night I sent her to my room to watch TV while I snuggled with AJ at bedtime. (Jeff was working.) Two hours later I woke up and discovered I'd fallen asleep alongside AJ. I went in search of Sydney and found the above scene. She'd turned off the TV, found my "Christmas bear" decoration (note the 1997 embroidered on its foot - a gift from Jeff the first year we were dating) and climbed under the covers of my bed.

I have no idea how late she stayed up, and I'm guessing by the time she wakes this morning, she won't remember either.

Sweet dreams...

Cup is up

2011-11-30T22:00:00.000-06:00

Can someone please explain to me what I'm missing here? What is the appeal of stacking cups? And how does this qualify as an activity for gym class?

But that's what AJ has been doing lately. In the same phy.ed. class, I might add, that earlier in the fall did a unit on yo-yos. If this is what passes for physical activity these days, is it any wonder why we're dealing with a childhood obesity epidemic? But I digress...

Fearing that I was sounding like a cranky old mom who didn't understand cool stuff, I asked AJ, "So, what's so fun about cup stacking?"

"You can stack cups."

Seriously. That was his response.

The Speed Stacks website proclaims cup stacking encourages kids to use both sides of their brain so they'll show academic improvement. Uh, yeah. I can see a vast improvement in AJ already.

And so I tried again. Pulling out some leftover party cups, I told AJ to show me the fun. You start out with six cups, he demonstrated.

Then, separating the cups and stacking them as quickly as possible, he explained, "I like to go 'three - two - up you go'.

Okay, so it looked a little cool. And I can appreciate that it's helping improve hand/eye coordination. But that's going to help his academic performance and be a "fantastic motivator for physical fitness?" (to quote the brochure that was sent home in his backpack, in case we want to order stacking cups of our own.)

Of course, watching her brother have fun was a fantastic motivator for Sydney to give it a try.

But then I noticed something that really didn't come as any sort of surprise. AJ didn't just want to stack and unstack the cups as quickly as possible. He just wanted to stack them, and keep stacking them. As evidenced by the continued stacking he did when given a chance to use all the plastic cups.

When they started to fall, I jokingly called, "Timber!"

"No, Mom," AJ patiently explained. "That's called a fumble."

I will never be cool enough for this pretend sport.

But I will remain a cool mom, because AJ proceeded to spend the next hour stacking his cups in various configurations.

An official set includes just 14 cups. I think my leftover plastic cups are way cooler.

Grate. Just grate!

2011-11-29T19:22:00.001-06:00

I should know better than to allow a just-showered boy anywhere near chocolate. But he wanted so badly to help. And it involved using a hand-held grater, the single most cool kitchen utensil ever invented, in his mind, so how could I possibly say no?

Oh, chocolate, chocolate, everywhere! On his sleeve, on his chin, cheek and ear, and all over the counter and stove.

I was making pies last Saturday night for my family's belated Thanksgiving get-together. One of them was a layered chocolate pie - a recipe described as "Super quick, easy".

Mistake #1 was allowing AJ to lick out the mixing bowl. That's where most of the mess came from. Though how he got it on his sleeve near his elbow has me baffled.

Then he saw me working on the pie's final step - dusting it with grated semi-sweet chocolate. Just last week I'd allowed him to help grate some lemon zest. And he'd managed to do that without skinning his knuckles, so I figured this would be harmless enough. Certainly less messy than licking the bowl. Mistake #2. (Though his intense concentration provided such an adorable photo opp.)

Granted, he grated and sprinkled a tad more chocolate than was necessary, but who's ever going to complain about a pie having too much chocolate?

At last I convinced him he'd grated enough. AJ handed me the grater and remaining chocolate chocolate chunk and stepped away. And that's when I discovered for all the chocolate he'd grated over the pie, he'd missed with almost an equal amount.

In all fairness, AJ's mess was nowhere near as bad as the one I created the year I dumped an unbaked pecan pie down the front of our oven and cupboards.

Also worth noting, of the three pies I brought to Thanksgiving: pecan, pumpkin and chocolate, the chocolate pie was by far the most popular.

It must have been AJ's magic touch.

C is for Can do it myself

2011-11-28T19:55:00.001-06:00

I'm proud of Sydney's desire to do her homework without help. Really, I am. It just would have been nice if her independent streak had struck a couple weeks ago. In time for "I" week, for instance. That would have been appropriate. And a whole lot easier.

Sydney's preschool class focuses on a different letter each week. The kids are supposed to bring in a picture of something that starts with that letter. During "I" week, Sydney wanted to bring a picture of an ice cream cone. Of course that was the week our printer was out of ink, so I was stuck looking through old magazines for a picture of ice cream.

This week is "C" week. And of course C has to be for Cookie. Easy enough, I figured. Every magazine I receive is filled this month with pictures of Christmas cookies.

Oh, but wait. Why would Sydney want a picture of a tray full of beautiful cookies, just because I tore a page from a magazine? Who needs that when she can color a picture of a cookie? All by herself.

And not just color it, she can cut it out. With scissors. All by herself.

As she ever so slowly cut around the circle she had drawn, she repeated the phrase "I can do it myself," (or some close variation) on average about once every 23 seconds. Including while she was asking for help.

And when she was done, she proudly bragged, "I told you I could do it myself."

I sometimes doubt her attention span, but when she makes up her mind to do something, I never doubt she'll get it done, if for no other reason than to prove she can. C, afterall, is also for contrary.

Final Thanksgiving reflections

2011-11-27T20:42:00.001-06:00

Tomorrow it's back to reality. It's back to school for AJ and back to work for me. AJ tried to make the argument that a four day weekend isn't long enough this time of year since the days are so short. I love his logic, but it probably wouldn't fly with his teacher or my boss.

As I checked his backpack and folder to make sure we weren't forgetting anything, I discovered a school project I somehow had missed earlier. Reading AJ's list, and the order in which he wrote it, regardless of how he spelled it, made me smile. And it made me proud.

In case you can't read it, the assignment was to list the things he's thankful for. He wrote, in this order:

God
Army
Family
Electricity
Dog
Food
Freedom
Help

Maybe, just maybe, I'm doing something right as a mom after all. And for that, I'm very thankful.

More décor

2011-11-26T18:51:00.001-06:00

If some is good, more is better in Sydney's world. Especially when decorating her room for Christmas. During a quick trip to the store to pick up some replacement Christmas lights for the string that burned out, I let her pick some ornaments of her own.

While I was outside replacing the lights around her window, she went to work in her room. And she's very proud of the results.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, except for the total lack of snow and 45-degree temp

2011-11-25T19:20:00.001-06:00

The clock is ticking away. We've just about made it through "Black Friday" without setting foot in a single retail establishment. It's bad enough that the true reason for Christmas gets buried under piles of presents. I refuse to lose Thanksgiving in the mad dash for doorbuster deals. Not at 5 a.m., and certainly not at midnight.

Soap box aside, we had a great day after Thanksgiving. We spent it decorating, inside and out, and are now just a Christmas tree away from having fully decked halls.

Sydney was ecstatic to help. Remembering how we did it last year, she repeatedly asked, "Can I decorate my table?" Out came the Playmobil nativity scene, plus Santa and his sleigh. Noting Gus in his kennel in the background, it scares me to think what these pieces will look like one month from now.

"I'm a great decorator!" She repeatedly told me. The nativity scene is about the only thing she wanted in the same place as last year. Everything else she just wanted in her room. For instance, the snowflakes that I hang from the lights above my bathroom mirror each year... Sydney found a much better spot for them.

And then there's the blessed dog that barks the tune to Jingle Bells. Sydney couldn't wait to set him rocking and barking. How I hate that dog. I wonder if I could encourage a certain other dog to show him some love. Hmmmm...

AJ couldn't resist either. The goofy pose, by the way, is AJ's impression of the Grinch riding in the sleigh pulled by the small dog.

When he wasn't being the Grinch, AJ was one Wild elf!

It's always so fun to pull out and dig through the decorations each year. I love that the kids' excitement mirrors my own. It seems to even have inspired Jeff this year, who helped me hang lights on the house this year. For the first time ever I have lights hanging from the roof! (And if you know the steep pitch of our roof, you know this was no simple task.) And I guessed the right number of strings to buy. On the first try.

Once the roof was done, I moved on to the easier-to-reach spots to light. It was then I discovered the consequences of last spring's careless storing of lights. The two strings of icicle lights that typically hang on the front porch railing - both are dead. And the snowflake lights I got last year to line Sydney's window - they don't work anymore either. I was tempted to run to the store and replace them, but then remembered my Black Friday boycott.

I can fix it tomorrow. So if you see someone outside rehanging lights in the middle of a snowstorm, you'll know who, and you'll know why.

Giving thanks - my turn

2011-11-23T21:36:00.001-06:00

It's probably a good thing I waited until this morning to reflect on my many blessings. As exhausted as I was last night - by work, by kids, by a puppy that never stops chewing on things, by a way-too-hectic schedule - I'm afraid the top thing on my list of what I'm grateful for would have been a big glass of wine.

But now I've had almost eight hours of sleep. I awoke to find my husband sleeping next to me (and not snoring!) after his night of work. The puppy wasn't barking to get out of his kennel. AJ and Sydney were both still sleeping. And a big cup of coffee was just a push of the "brew" button away.

Yes, I am blessed.

We are healthy. We have jobs. We have a nice warm home. We are safe and we are all together.

Oh yeah, and it's an unseasonably warm day.

What more could we need?

Sure, there are plenty of things I still want. A quick scan through the Black Friday ads reminds me of that. But God has more than provided us with everything we need. He's definitely blessed me with more than I deserve.

Coincidentally, right as I was typing "blessed me with more than I deserve," Gus - who is in the back yard - went racing past the window, leaped up the step and crashed into the door. Thud! (Sigh) Yeah, that's probably more in line with what I deserve.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Giving thanks - by Sydney

2011-11-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I focused on her big brother's list. Today, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I've asked Sydney to count her blessings.

It worked out rather nicely, because one of her "homework" assignments for preschool this week is to tell someone five things she's thankful for. Here's what she had to say:

"I'm thankful for hugs (pause)... turkeys. And I'm thankful to eat them and to go to houses."

I interrupted her, "what do you mean 'go to houses'?"

"Everybody's houses. Grandmas and grandpas, and cousins, and Uncle Steve's."

She then picked up where she left off. "I'm thankful for flowers. Those are all the five things I like."

How fun it is to get my kids' perspectives on the things that matter most. Tomorrow I'll try to compile a list of my own. It's probably going to be longer than just five things.

Giving thanks - by AJ

2011-11-22T06:26:00.001-06:00

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, I asked AJ what he's thankful for this year.

What has top of mind awareness with my six-year-old? Here's his list:

Freedom
Be free to play
Food
Family

I interrupted him, "Are you thankful for anything that doesn't start with the letter F?"

He added to his list, "Good will."

"Do you know what good will means?" I asked.

"It's when someone does good stuff to you. Right?"

He wrapped up his gratitude list with two more things, "I'm thankful for soldiers. And for money."

Sydney jumped in, "AJ wants to be rich."

"No Sydney," he argued. "Because if we didn't have money we'd never get to buy anything."

Tomorrow I'll give Sydney her chance to make a list.

Game night

2011-11-21T06:30:00.000-06:00

What started with the girl with a million toys pouting because she couldn't possibly think of anything to do other than play Barbie games on the computer, turned into an oldies but goodies night at the Kazel house.

Behold the queen of Candy Land.

Six games in a row I played with her while Jeff was with AJ at hockey practice. And how many of those six games did I win? One. It's a game of pure luck, which always scares me because how do you make it easier for the child to win when the outcome is pure luck? But luck was on Sydney's side: When she played me, when she played AJ later in the evening, and when she played Daddy after supper.

While playing with me, the game was a friendly experience. Sydney was as excited to greet the girl characters along the route as she was to cross the finish line. Princess Frostine and Grandma Nutt were the favorites.

Of course, the game against Daddy turned into a trash-talking competition. "You're going down, clown!" and "Girls rule!" were among the taunts leading up to and during the board game battle.

When Daddy shouted with mock excitement, "I got the Princess Ice Cream card!" Sydney was outraged.

"That's Princess Frostine, Daddy!"

AJ, meanwhile, embraced game night with a request of his own. Battleship is his new favorite game, even though he doesn't fully seem to handle where to put the pegs. But it's war related, so it must be important, he figures.

And the ship with four holes in it, "Don't you think it looks kind of like the Titanic?" AJ asked. That makes it even cooler.

How I love the classics! There's a reason they've stood the test of time. I had a Candy Land game as a child, and the Battle Ship game actually is mine from childhood.

Still, I can't help but realize that this was just the first day of single digit temperatures. It's going to be a long winter.

When AJ is in charge

2011-11-20T09:00:00.000-06:00

Change, my friends, is a comin'. When AJ grows up, no matter which profession he chooses, you can expect him to make some changes.

For instance, there will be no decorating for Christmas until after Thanksgiving. Walking into the fully decked mall yesterday, AJ announced, "When I'm president, if a store puts up Christmas stuff before Thanksgiving, I'll tell it it has to close for a week!"

Speaking of change, note the new eyeglasses, which was the reason for our trip to the mall.

These frames can bend and stretch in ways I didn't think possible. In other words, they're hopefully flexible enough to survive puppies and hockey helmets.

As we waited for the new glasses to be ready, we stopped for lunch in the food court. AJ, die-hard fan of Potato Olés that he is, chose Taco John's. Watching me fill our glasses with pop, AJ said, "Wouldn't it be nice if we had our own cups and we could get pop any time we wanted? If I owned a Taco John's, I would say that pop is free." He paused to analyze this business decision, then announced, with the wisdom of a six-year-old, "I'd still charge for children's drinks, but pop is free."

Coincidentally, the movie Big was on TV last night. AJ loved it. During a commercial break, as I attempted to take a nice photo of him in his new glasses, he made clear something else that would change if he was the one making decisions. You can look however you want in pictures:

The "pretending to sleep" pose

The "pretending to be shocked/scared by something on TV" pose

The "I crack myself up" smile

Yes, if AJ was in charge, there'd never be a dull moment. But come to think of it, that's not much of a change from how it is now.

Snow + puppy + glove = "Mommy, help!"

2011-11-19T10:37:00.001-06:00

The snow that's been predicted all week - first for Sunday, then for Saturday night into Sunday, then for Saturday afternoon - showed up Friday afternoon. It wasn't a lot, just enough to remind us about the fun of winter driving, and to get Sydney excited to play outside in her new (hand-me-down) snowpants and brand new gloves.

Of course Gus wanted to join her. He's gotten over his initial "What just happened?!?" shock of seeing snow on the ground, and now seems to enjoy playing outside more than ever. And so out the back door they went in search of accumulated snow.

That lasted about a minute and a half, and then Sydney was back at the door, "Moooommmmmm! Gus has my glove!"

We did our best to corner him, which didn't work at all.

Gus loved this game of chase, dodging us with ease and running around the yard.

I finally threw one of his toys at him, which shocked him enough that he dropped the glove. I grabbed it, put it back on Sydney and headed back inside. Just as I was taking off my coat, Sydney was back at the door, yelling for me and yelling at Gus. Back on went the coat as I headed back out to repeat the "chase, dodge, throw things at the dog" process. It took a little longer this time because Gus apparently wasn't as surprised anymore by the sight of toys hurtling his way.

At last I was able to retrieve the glove. I again put it on Sydney's hand and went back inside. Before I took my coat off, I turned around to see what she was playing with Gus. She was feeding him snow.

No wonder it was so easy for him to grab her glove! Here Gus, why don't you just take it.

Report card time

2011-11-18T06:42:00.001-06:00

RIT score. NWEA RIT Scale Norms. Lexile Range.

Huh?

These are all words on AJ's standardized student progress report, which I received last night at a conference with his teacher. It's not just the terminology, but the grades that have me baffled. According to this standardized test, AJ is slightly above average in reading, and below average in math.

Below average? In math? This is the child who is constantly calculating numbers in his head. Maybe he's strategizing to set the bar low, so he'll show marked improvement by year's end. Even the teacher said his low score had surprised her.

And then I looked at the breakdown. When it comes to number sense, computation and measurement/geometry, he's in the top 80th percentile. In statistics/probability and algebra he's average. It's the problem solving - where he scored in the bottom 20 percent - that brought his overall grade way down. It's the longer questions, which he probably didn't understand to begin with because his mind started wandering, that he couldn't solve.

Self portrait of a first grader

That whole paying attention factor reared its ugly head a few times. Mrs. Baird says Alex is getting better at waiting his turn to talk, rather than blurt out whatever thought comes into his head, it's still affecting his ability to pay attention. She speculates that he's focusing so hard on his thoughts (so he doesn't forget them before he has a chance to share) that he's then missing whatever it is she's teaching.

I'd say she's got him pretty well figured out.

Moving on to the regular report card, the news was much more as I expected: top scores in math (which totally contradicts the results of the standardized test) science, music, art and phy. ed. He's good in language arts, with two exceptions. His handwriting is bad and there's a category called... of course... "Speaking & Listening." Alex has no problem speaking and expressing himself in front of the class or in small group settings, Mrs. Baird assured me. It's that darn listening part.

And time management. He wasn't graded on it, but here's an example of how well AJ works in "Centers" (small groups with minimal supervision). The assignment was to write all the letters of the alphabet, first in lowercase, then uppercase. He was given 10 minutes to finish. And he got this far:

I don't mean to sound overly negative. I know my son's strengths and weaknesses. I just find humor in the overly polite way educators try to explain the areas in which he struggles. For instance, in the area "listens attentively" the comment was:

Alex is often quiet during instruction, but when called upon randomly to answer a question or come to the board, he doesn't know what he's been asked to do.

For "displays self control", the teacher wrote:

Alex has improved, but should continue working on controlling his urge to talk or blurt out during instructions.

Despite all this, Mrs. Baird says AJ is doing great and she very much enjoys having him in class. She is as entertained as I am by the way his mind works.

Here are some other examples of what he's been doing during his first quarter in school:

Our neighborhood

My dad will appreciate this all-school art project focused on shading.

Here's a close up of AJ's contribution.

And this is just the first quarter of first grade. If we can get him to pay attention, the rest of the year should be just fine.

The unfairness of Christmas

2011-11-17T07:00:00.000-06:00

For 2,000 years, the true story of Christmas has been shared, passed down from generation to generation. Biblical scholars, language experts and scientists alike have closely studied and compared even the finest details and variations between the gospel accounts.

And yet, leave it to my six year old to raise a question I've never heard asked.

Sydney's choice for a bedtime story one recent night was a new paperback I'd picked up entitled "The Christmas Story". AJ and I took turns – I'd read one page and he'd read the next.

As I read the page showing Mary riding on a donkey with Joseph walking along side on their way to Bethlehem, I commented, "Can you imagine walking all that way?"

A few pages later, Joseph and Mary had made it to the stable, and the picture and words described Joseph making a soft bed for Mary from the hay.

And that's when AJ interrupted, "Why does the girl always get the lucky stuff?"

He's such a gentleman! I'll be sure to share this story with his wife someday – ideally when she's nine months pregnant.

With age comes wisdom

2011-11-15T21:21:00.001-06:00

For as long as he can remember, AJ has always wanted to be bigger. To be older. Some of his best friends are six months older, and he wants to catch up to them. He knows he has to finish high school before he can be a brave Army soldier, and so he wants to grow old enough to do that.

But all of a sudden he's discovered that older isn't always better. "It's not fair," he told me as we arrived home last night. "I have to go to school five days a week, and Sydney only has to go three days."

And not only that, the homework he has to do in first grade isn't nearly fun as what his sister is bringing home from preschool. While he has to work on a spelling assignment...

Sydney gets to jump over boxes. Seriously. One of Sydney's take-home projects, obviously geared toward improving coordination and physical activity, was to find various sized boxes and jump over them.

As AJ struggled to understand the concept of creating a code - assigning numbers to letters and writing his spelling words in code, Sydney was leaping and laughing. And driving her brother crazy with jeaolousy.

Which made for a wonderful incentive. We saved the boxes for when AJ finished his assignment.

So AJ was happy in the end. But it got me thinking. When is it really better to be older? With age comes ever-increasing responsibility.Throughout school he will always have harder homework. And then he'll move on to college and into the real world, and - while he'll certainly enjoy more freedom - he'll again have greater responsibility than his little sister. The best he can look forward to is that someday she'll catch up. God forbid she somehow manages to retire before him. Then there'd be no justice in this world.

Hmmm... perhaps it's because I've often commented that being grown up isn't as fun as I'd thought it would be. That makes it kind of hard to offer comfort. I better just stick to offering boxes as a distraction.

Operation Mom Screwed Up Again

2011-11-15T06:36:00.001-06:00

This is what happens when I try to do something good for myself like join an adult Sunday School class. I miss out on the kids' classes, and forget important things like coming prepared with a packed shoebox of toiletries and gifts for Operation Christmas Child.

And so on Sunday, which was a family Sunday School event, we spent the hour filling out the greeting sheets that will accompany our boxes.

Whichever children receive our boxes - if they know how to read, and if they speak English - will learn how old my kids are and that AJ likes Legos and Sydney likes to play on the computer. They'll also know what our house looks like because the kids drew pictures, which look exactly like our house looks. If our house was green (Sydney's version) or orange (AJ's version).

And then after Sunday School, Mommy and AJ raced to Walmart to pick out toothbrushes and toothpaste, washrags and soap (which we ended up replacing because AJ thought they were too stinky - thank goodness I still have plenty of hotel-size soaps that were leftover from last summer's vacation.) We also added crayons, markers, a small notebook, candy, a few small gender-specific toys and some other things.

Next it was time to pack our shoeboxes.

And then Mommy went in search of bigger shoeboxes so we could squeeze everything in.

At last we were done and so headed back to church (the boxes aren't being picked up until tomorrow morning, I checked.) AJ hopped out of the mini-van, eager to help play Santa.

And then we discovered the doors were locked, and so headed back to the mini-van. Jeff's going to try again to drop off the boxes this morning.

For all the hassles, it was a good lesson in charity for the kids. When AJ first heard about the program, he excitedly exclaimed, "I want to get a box!"

I explained to him that the box was the only gift many children would receive, his expression changed to one of horror. Who could imagine anything so horrible? Reality checks aren't always fun, but they sure are helpful when trying to teach kids to be grateful for the good life they take for granted.

That was a FUN party!

2011-11-13T12:08:00.001-06:00

It is a wonderful day (or in this case, evening) when children reach a certain age or stage of maturity. It's the stage when they happily play with friends, with little parental supervision or guidance needed.

Saturday night we invited our friends the Kilichowskis and the Kuklinskis (can you tell we live in Finn country?) over for a lasagna dinner. Is it any wonder why AJ enjoys playing with these boys? They came dressed and armed for battle.

On the girl end of the spectrum, Sydney and Reese apparently found Sydney's tube of lip gloss and excitedly presented their glamorous new look.

I somehow managed to miss getting a picture of Avery. For the most part, she stuck with the boys, borrowing one of AJ's helmets and Nerf guns. But the tutu she was wearing didn't quite fit with the rest of the army theme.

And while the kids ran around the house battling foreign invaders, or hung out in Sydney's room playing princess or preparing snacks and treats, the grown ups got to sit and talk, watch a little TV, and just enjoy time with good friends.

The next morning, I surveyed the living room and was pleasantly surprised by how clean it had remained. And then I walked into Sydney's room.

Surveying the wreckage, Sydney smiled up at me and said, "That was a FUN party!"