Funny Kids

Kate after opening a new shirt from Mom and Dad on Christmas morning:

Me:  Do you like it?

Kate (clearly uncomfortable):  Uh, I could wear it on Saturdays.  It would be a good Saturday shirt.

Me: You don't like it, huh?

Kate:  Uh, no. Sorry, Mom.

Kate, Ella and I planned all day to have a pedicure night.  Jackson was fairly excited to participate and I couldn't figure out why, until he arrived in the bathroom and exclaimed, "Where are the pets!?"

Long noses...

This morning at breakfast, Kate had a confession for me.  She told me she really did not write the poem.  Apparently, it is a song.  Kate loves to write songs down on paper for some reason. Anyway, we had a long talk about claiming something as your own when it's not.  There were tears, and apologies and so all is forgiven.  Kate, my sweet girl, does write beautiful things but that cute little poem cannot be claimed as her own.  Hopefully, she will learn this life lesson well. I will leave the poem on the blog but erase her name.   Why do I love her even more for her confession?  

'Tis the Season

...to not expect much blogging from me.  I'm back from my little trip-eroo to the tropics, jet-lagged and frantically avoiding the fact the Relief Society will be here tonight to sing carols around my out-of-tune piano.  While I'm cleaning food and finger prints off my windows, please enjoy this lovely poem by my new favorite poet:

I Built A Little Snowman

I built a little snowman.

He had a carrot nose.

Along came a bunny,

and what do you suppose?

That hungry little bunny

Looking for his lunch

Ate that snowman's nose

Nibble, nibble, crunch!

Confessions

Number 1:

Jackson:(quietly) Mom, you know what? I do really like girl toys sometimes.
Me: Oh, really? Like what?
Jackson: (Thoughtful) Like girl trucks and girl puppies.
Me: (trying not to laugh) I'm sure that's okay.

Number 2:

Maxwell is a racist. He does not like Asian people. Twice, some very nice Asians have tried to say "hi" and he has freaked out. Crying, hollering, generally making a scene, sending these poor nice people running for cover. I quickly try to mumble some excuse about how he is tired, etc. And then I run, too.

Number 3:

I spend too much time on the computer.


What do you have to confess?

FHE

Favorite quote from FHE tonight:

"Even Heavenly Father doesn't drink alcohol."--Ella

Caca

I know I haven't blogged for a while and now I can finally explain why. I didn't want to let it be known in bloggy land that I have been alone for the last three weeks, well as alone as you can be with 4 kids. (All you stalkers, murders, robbers you missed your chance. My husband is back and he has some big guns. Interpret that as you like.) Anyway, this has been a pretty crappy couple of weeks. (Insert a lot of complaining HERE.) This is what happened:
1) Nail in foot of a child. Mix-up in Dr. office resulting in screaming, unhappy child thinking she will have to have shot. Happily, no shot just nail in the foot and 30 dollar co-pay in Doctor's wallet.
2) 4 kids plus one mom with strep throat. Lots of antibiotics. Lots.
3) One child with hives. Blame placed on antibiotics.
4) Same child, diagnosed with Acute Rheumatic fever. Which includes 2 visits to the cardiologist, 6 vials of blood being drawn and 15 years on an antibiotic.
5) One child poked in the eye with scissors. Thankfully, child scissors and after a nice, long visit to the eye doctor child completely satisfied with the experience due to bendy, roll-up eye shades. Child fine, so Mom satisfied too.
6) 2 more eye doctor visits resulting in one more child with glasses.
7) I forgot to mention one child with Scarlet Fever. How could I forget that you ask? Well, re-read the list. That ought to explain it.

And just today, because we haven't had enough fun already, child diagnosed with walking-pneumonia and on breathing treatments every 4-6 hours. Sister feeling jealous so woke up this morning with fever. Brother not to be outdone, also running fever and baby, who doesn't like to be left out, was found sucking on sick sister's sippy cup.

Good times.

Tax Shelters and such...

I'm not sure what to think about this election hoopla. On one hand, I am happy that so many people felt empowered and voted in this election. On the other, I am sad that a good man, a gracious man and a man full of character lost. I'm not sure what this says about our country. I am hopeful that Obama can be a good President. I'll give him a chance.

However, I worry. There has been so much bias in the media coverage of the election (ie:treatment of Romney vs. Obama). Have we gotten to the point where the liberal media shapes our views and values? Or worse, is our moral compass? Does being politically correct trump moral values? I can't lie, I've been on the edge of my seat, biting my nails waiting for the outcome in the Prop 8 campaign in California. CNN says it is still too close to call, although it seems like it will be a victory for the "Yes" campaign. I couldn't be more happy about it, too. I believe down to the tip-tops of my scaly feet that that marriage is between a man and a woman. And I feel like warm cinnamon buns inside that the majority of California voters agree. I can't help but feel bad for the Gay people out there who misunderstand the intent behind my beliefs. I am not a hater. I don't hate people who are Gay. I don't. I don't want to infringe upon their rights, but I will not let them infringe upon mine either. Same-sex marriage changes what is a fundamental building block of our society. It has vast reaching consequences. It goes against the core of what has been Christian beliefs for eons. It is confusing for our children. It takes stability away from our society. I understand the desire (and I believe it is a righteous one) for people, gay and straight to want to have lasting bonds with another individual and create a family. That is part of our moral DNA. However, you can't take something that is morally wrong and make it right. And you can't confuse equality with morality.

And that is the end of my soap box for today. I am climbing down and trying to avoid the tomato's being hurled at my politically incorrect head. Anyway, I have some serious work to do today--I need to find some tax shelters before January 20th. Or an offshore Swiss bank account? Ha...ha...ha! (The "ha's" are for the IRS, on the off-chance, they are addicted to "The Bun.")

Max walks!

Crow's feet

I came home from a concert last night after seeing my husband talk to a sexily clad woman he knows from work-- I inspected myself in the mirror and discovered crow's feet.  Nice, huh. 

In case you were wondering...

If you are married to a Reynolds boy you know two things:

1) They can't (or won't) peel oranges.  You are the official orange-peeler of the relationship.  They will forego the orange before they will peel it themselves. Trust me.   

2) They always ask kids funny questions.  Case in point:

Robert (to E & J):  What's the true meaning of Halloween?

Ella (with a "DUH" look on her face): Heavenly Father!

Jackson (standing up on his chair and excitedly waving his arms):  And that BABY!

We are either doing a great job teaching our kids or a really crappy one.  

Stealing

I am blatantly stealing this post from my friend Amy (at least, I hope we are still friends). Thanks for the idea. I love to read and so I must copy, steal and support this idea! Plus, I haven't posted for a while and this is a lot easier than downloading all the photos off my camera, organizing them in iphoto and thinking of something interesting to say about them. Give me a break, I've been sick this week. Just be glad I'm not blogging all the gory details.

Anyway, The Big Read is a National Endowment for the Arts program to encourage community reading initiatives.  This is a list of their top 100 books.  They estimate the average adult has read only six.

Bold those that you have read.  Italicize those you intend to read and *star the books you LOVE.

1. Pride and Prejudice-Jane Austen***(seriously deserves that many stars, along with all the other Austen books.)
2. The Lord of the Rings-JRR Tolkien
3. Jane Eyre-Charlotte Bronte**
4. Harry Potter Series-JK Rowling
5. To Kill a Mockingbird-Harper Lee*
6. The Bible 
7. Wuthering Heights-Emily Bronte***
8. 1984-George Orwell
9. His Dark Materials-Philip Pullman
10. Great Expectations-Charles Dickens
11. Little Women-Louisa M. Alcott**
12. Tess of the D'Urbervilles-Thomas Hardy
13. Catch 22-Joseph Heller
14. Complete Works of Shakespeare(Sure enough to bold but I may have missed something!)
15. Rebecca-Daphne Du Maurier*
16. The Hobbit-JRR Tolkien
17. Bird Song- Sebastian Faulks
18. Catcher in the Rye--JD Salinger*
19. The Time Traveler's Wife-Audrey Niffenegger*
20. Middlemarch-George Eliot
21. Gone With The Wind-Margaret Mitchell*
22. The Great Gatsby--F Scott Fitzgerald*
23. Bleak House-Charles Dickens
24. War and Peace-Leo Tolstoy
25. The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy--Douglas Adams
26. Brideshead Revisted-Evelyn Waugh
27. Crime and Punishment-Fydor Dostoyevsky
28. Grapes of Wrath-John Steinbeck
29. Alice in Wonderland-Lewis Carroll
30. The wind in the Willows-Kenneth Grahame
31. Anna Karenina-Leo Tolstoy*(One of my all time FAVORITES!)
32. David Copperfield-Charles Dickens
33. Chronicles of Narnia-CS Lewis
34. Emma-Jane Austen*
35. Persuasion-Jane Austen*
36. The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe-CS Lewis*
37. The Kite Runner-Khaled Hosseini*
38. Captain Corelli's Mandolin-Louis De Bernieres
39. Memoirs of a Geisha-Arthur Golden*
40. Winnie the Pooh-AA Milne*
41. Animal Farm -George Orwell
42. The Da Vinci Code-Dan Brown*
43. One Hundred Years of Solitude-Gabriel Garcia Marquez ( I feel like I should get some stars after reading this book.  Read it and you'll see what I mean!)
44. A Prayer for Owen Meaney-John Irving
45. The Woman in White--Wilkie Collins
46. Anne of Green Gables-LM Montgomery***********
47. Far From the Madding Crowd-Thomas Hardy
48. The Handmaid's Tale-Margaret Atwood 
49. Lord of the Flies-William Golding
50. Atonement-Ian McEwan
51. Life of Pi-Yann Martel* (Super good!)
52. Dune-Frank Herbert
53. Cold Comfort Farm-Stella Gibbons
54. Sense and Sensibility-Jane Austen*
55. A Suitable Boy-Vikram Seth
56. The Shadow of the Wind-Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57. A Tale of Two Cities-Charles Dickens
58. Brave New World-Aldous Huxley (Yawner!)
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time-Mark Haddon
60. Love in the Time of Cholera-Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61. Of Mice and Men-John Steinbeck
62. Lolita-Vladimir Nabokov
63. The Secret History-Donna Tartt
64. The Lovely Bones-Alice Sebold* 
65. Count of Monte Cristo-Alexandre Dumas
66. On the Road-Jack Kerouac
67. Jude the Obscure-Thomas Hardy
68. Bridget Jones's Diary-Helen Fielding(Are you freaking serious?)
69. Midnight's Children-Salman Rushdie
70. Moby Dick-Herman Melville
71. Oliver Twist-Charles Dickens
72. Dracula-Bram Stoker
73. The Secret Garden-Frances Hodgson Burnett*
74. Notes From A Small Island-Bill Bryson
75. Ulysses-James Joyce
76. The Bell Jar-Sylvia Plath
77. Swallows and Amazons-Arthur Ransome
78. Germinal-Emile Zola
79. Vanity Fair-William Makepeace Thackeray*
80. Possession-AS Byatt
81. A Christmas Carol-Charles Dickens(Would star but so SICK of the story that I just can't do it!  Even Barbie has a version now.  Can we say all together "OVER DONE!"  Just leave the story alone, people.  Please.)
82. Cloud Atlas-David Mitchell
83. The Color Purple-Alice Walker (I'm curious if Oprah will come after me with her secret network of spies.  Still, no star.  Why? Well, because I'm feeling a little mad about her blatant financial support of a certain presidential candidate that has representatives call my house nightly and fill my mail box with junk and interrupt my favorite TV programs! So there!  Take that!)
84. The Remains of the Day-Kazuo Ishiguro*
85. Madame Bovary-Gustave Flaubert
86. A Fine Balance- Rohinton Mistry
87. Charlotte's Web-EB White*
88. The Five People You Meet in Heaven-Mitch Albom*
89. Adventures of Sherlock Holmes-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90. The Faraway Tree Collection-Enid Blyton
91. Heart of Darkness-Joseph Conrad (This is a caca book. Only read if you are feeling like being depressed or you have to write an English paper.)
92. The Little Prince-Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93. The Wasp Factory-Iain Banks
94. Watership Down-Richard Adams
95. A Confederacy of Dunces-John Kennedy Toole(I only bolded half because I read half of the book and then got bored and seduced by another more interesting book.  I never came back.  Sorry, I'm just like that.)
96. A Town like Alice-Nevil Shute
97. The Three musketeers-Alexandre Dumas
98. Hamlet-William Shakespeare
99. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory-Roald Dahl
100. Les Miserables-Victor Hugo* (Really good book.  Especially if you skip the 100 pages on the description of the town...or was it something else?)

135 MacDougal St. #3A

When I first walked in, I sat down on one of the double beds provided for married students attending NYU and cried.  I couldn't decide what to cry about more: the shit-brown walls(pardon my language, but that really was the color!), the 480 square feet, the tiny closet, the big cockroach in the bathtub, the elf size stove and refrigerator, the three floors I had just walked up, the glaring lack of any appliance that washes, or maybe the fact that I had overpacked just a wee bit.

(Entertaining friends)

 

And yes, that is the whole apartment! Robert grew to love the place, but I never did.

When we went back to NYC a few weeks ago, we walked by our old apartment on MacDougal.  I was elated to see that I was proven correct--the building was about ready to fall down--it was boarded up and everything. I felt vindicated!  And I got to tell Robert that I was right about our old hell-hole of an apartment.  I felt giddy!  That is, until I read the sign.  Well, I'm off to google asbestos poisoning...

Apology

Dearest Max,

I know you are not happy with me today.  I can tell by your pouty lip, complaints and watery eyes.  I can see that if you could speak, you would form the words, "Mean Mom!"  I know that I am a Mean Mom and I am sorry.  I have tried to support you in your obsession with toilet water but I find that I am wholly unable to get behind this activity.  I know you are mad about the gate and toilet lid locks.  I am sorry.  I hope to be able to be more supportive of your future activities.  I realize that we have had a few disagreements about your culinary tastes.  I must stand firm in my belief that fuzz off our rug and dust bunnies from the corner are not food groups.  I hope that we can come to some sort of an understanding on this point.  Perhaps, if I added a new food to your diet?  

We do have some common ground.  We both enjoy your naps.  May I respectfully suggest that you add a few more minutes to your afternoon snooze? I really think that this may help us get a long a little better.  

As always,

Mom

P.S.  I apologize in advance for the new locks I am about to install on the doors.  I know this will keep you from exploring our front yard, street and garage--some of your favorite places.  I hope that you can overlook these infractions on your freedom and remember how many times I have changed your not so fragrant diapers.

Happy Birthday, Max!

Jackson's 1st day of preschool

(I feel the same way.  Imagine, 3 whole hours with only 1 child!)

Oprah

So I don't usually watch Oprah; It's not like I have anything against her, I just don't watch TV during the day.  Although, if I think about it I could have something against her.  I mean, I guess if I had a gazillion dollars, I would publish a magazine, name it after my fabulous self and of course, be on the cover of every issue.  Oh, and  I have her to thank for a very depressing 6 months with her book club books.  Great reads, great literature but SO sad.  I  was forced to read some fairly silly chic lit for therapy afterwards.  It took about a month to recover but I feel better now, thanks for asking.  Of course, that was a few years ago... like 7 or so, but who's counting? 

Don't worry I do have a point.  I happen to watch her show this morning (I was at the gym running on the treadmill.  Snap.)  and it was on child predators.  I guess there is a bill in the Senate to fund law enforcement to go after these creeps.  I try not to get too political but I really feel like this bill is something we could all get behind.   Rally the troops and check out Oprah's website:  www.oprah.com and send an email to your Senators.  I did.  

Why I love my pool fence...(A photo essay)

9/11

It's been 7 years.   I remember sirens.  I remember the air tasting like panic, filling my lungs.  I remember breathing, in and out, in and out, in.  I remember being surprised by how quiet it was and longing for a truck to honk, a cabbie to yell some fowl word out his window with his fist raised to the sky.  I remember that fighter jets sound like airliners.  I remember seeing the Towers fall as I stood on solid ground-- 32nd street and 5th Ave.  I remember everything slowing down, blurring around the edges, the haze seeping into my brain.  What did I see?  What does it mean?

I remember Kate's warmth as she snuggled close to my chest and my arms around her--squeezing, filling any gap between us.  I  can still see her red strawberry hat with that comical little green stem, in stark contrast to the gray, smoke-filled sky.  I hear increasing concern in my voice as I leave messages on my husband's answering machine at work. I remember the minutes I spent contemplating widowhood and seeing Kate grow as an only child.  I remember how it felt to see my husband walk through the door of our apartment.  I remember how tangible he was, how real he felt when I hugged him.  I remember God on that day.  And on many days after.  

Kids these days!

After asking Ella to identify a triangle : "Stop, Mom.  I know this stuff."

Jackson after discovering a box of my tampons: "Mom, what kind of weird toothbrush is this?"

Okay. Fine! (Picture me stamping my foot here.)

I'll confess.  I did it.  I read those books by Stephanie Meyer.  I read them all.  EVERY LAST ONE. Why, you ask?  Why would an educated, well-read, hot (just seeing if you were paying attention) person like yourself start reading teen literature?  Well, seriously people, it's like a tidal wave engulfing every last girlfriend I have.  I decided to jump off the proverbial cliff and see what everyone was talking about.  Plus, I had this aching need to know whether or not I was really most like Bella, Alice or Edward.  

Before I go into my critique, I have to give the girl credit for writing a book at all.  That can't be easy.  I'm sure it's not easy with kids.  And I can't imagine how she thinks of  anything at all after a mind-numbing day with children.  It takes all the effort I have to pull myself off the couch and grab another cookie while watching, "America's Next Top Model."

That said, the characters were flat and the writing repetitive.  If I go into any more detail than that, I'm sure I'll alienate at least 50%  of my friends.   And since that will leave me with one friend, I'll stop there.  Let's just say, that if I ever read the word "marble" again to describe anything, in any book, that I will have to be checked into a clinic for a nervous breakdown and only the largest box of Vosges chocolates will cure me.  It might take two boxes, who knows?   Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure Ms. Meyer is out to get me.  I can see her squinting her eyes, rubbing her hands together and pondering new ways to use the word "marble." (As if she hasn't already used them all in her Twilight books!)  Then I hear her evil, maniacal laugh all the way to the bank.

The Bun

Most of you know that I wear a bun in my hair all the time.  No occasion is the exception.  I wear a bun at church, at the gym, at home, on dates with my husband, at the movies, at night to bed.  You get the idea.  I've even overheard myself described as "the girl who always wears a bun in her hair."  That one made me cringe.  You see, it's not as if I love this particular hairstyle.  It's just so easy and practical.  My husband loves my hair long.  And when I say love, I probably mean an emotion even stronger than that--maybe obsessed would be the word.  

When we were first married, he left me for three days to go see his brother return from his mission to Japan.  I decided to cut my hair, as all newly married women do.  I tried to explain to him that it really wasn't my fault, I didn't disregard his wishes, it's a phenomenon with newly married women.  It was pretty much inevitable that I would do it, once I said, " I do."   That line of reasoning did little to convince him.  Let's just say that I have yet to repeat the experience in our eleven years of marriage.  He's much more easy going about my hair now, but still prefers it long and I prefer to keep him happy.  So in the bun it goes, because I am, if anything a lover of the easy and practical. 

Today I woke up feeling uneasy.  I wanted to do something different with my hair.  I wanted to blow it out, leave it long and frustrate everyone's opinion of "that girl with a bun."  I didn't want to be her today.   Sadly, Ella wanted to be in time-out for fighting with her sister and brother numerous times.  Jackson wanted answers to important questions like, "How does the garage opener work?" and "What does invisible mean? Why is the air invisible? How come we bleed? Where does our food go? Are peas good for you?"  Kate wanted to talk about complex emotions and figure out why everything isn't fair and find her missing underwear.  Max wanted to be rescued from the toilet bowl, the stairs, the balloon piece in his mouth and a whopper of a poopy diaper.  Yet, I still had hope--until ten minutes before we had to leave for church. 

 I was downstairs with drippy, wet hair feeding Max his lunch.  I finished up and on my way up the stairs to my blow dryer, I discovered J sitting in our coat closet with a pair of scissors.  He had already cut up his brand new gymboree, plaid church socks and was working on his pants.  After a mini meltdown(mine) and a time-out(his), I was back on track to my blow dryer and then I discovered Ella in the bathroom with an entire tube of gel in her hair,  mixed in with hair spray and leave-in conditioner.  She was repentant and the damage was done--so I said little and we washed her hair.  By this time, I  was at least 30 minutes late.

 We ran out the door: Jackson in his cut-up, hole-filled socks, Kate in her dress sans sash, Ella in her wet bun and ripped-up jelly shoes, Max and his poopy diaper and me, in a wrinkled dress with my hair in, of course, a bun. 

And that folks, is the reason why I ALWAYS wear my hair in a bun.

Of course, sometimes I'm just lazy.  

The Park

The Park

The first day of school

Before school started.   Before we left the house both nervous and excited.

Kate was actually embarrassed this year that I wanted to take her picture in class.  Can you tell?  
Cute Ella at her desk.  So excited to finally be in Kindergarten.  She whispered to me, "Mom, I used to pretend that when I went to Preschool I was going to a bigger school--now I don't have to pretend.  I am so big now!"
I'm surprised how emotional I felt saying goodbye to my girls this year. Time keeps marching on regardless of how we feel about it.  And so another year begins...  

Question?

 Q. What kind of woman does her make-up  in the public gym locker room with a mini skirt on and strappy yellow heels and NO SHIRT--not even a bra?

A.  The kind that likes to admire her double D boob job in the mirror? And wants you to admire it too?

Cabin Fun or Rain, rain, go away.

And it rained, and rained, and rained.  And rained.   The Boys put together a Treasure Hunt for the kids.  It included all sorts of hard tasks like: eating ants, licking bricks, sommersaults on muddy ground and digging up a treasure.  The only modification made was by the  girls--we decided no shovels for digging, hands only.

J offering Axel an ant to eat.  Yum.

Hey, Dan is that your car? 

More Children's museum pics

Addison's favorite chair.
Kate's tough too.
Like mother, like daughter.

The Children's museum

The kids finally get to ride the horse.  I just had to chew out a mom whose kid was taking his turn and then some first.  Good times.  
Little Addison Cow would not look at the camera for anything.  I even promised a carrot.  Oh, wait I think that treat is for horses.  What do you offer cows?  Cow pies?  Hee. Hee.

Yeah, Ella's tough.

More Dinosaur Park