Trust

Dear Teachers,
Just a quick note to remind you of the power you wield -- unknowingly or otherwise. My son is only 4. He's only been in school a total of 3 months. Already I see that you have great sway over him. Don't forget that.

He's my precious, darling student. He's so excited to enter your classroom, your world, and learn what you know. Understand that often what he experiences in your classroom, stays in your classroom. No matter how much I entice and lure, he just doesn't want to break the bond you have together. He rarely tells me what he does during the hours he is in your care. When he does, it's only whiffs and vapors that I can't interpret.

I do know this: he has confided, "I trust everything they say." I entreat you to conceive the instant panic this gives a parent. He trusts you, and so I cannot. I must always be on his guard.

With the credence he gives you, take the opportunity to guide him. Enjoy his unabashedly bright brown eyes that beg you to fill him up with facts and figures. Show him the maps of the planet and inspire him to go to the ends of the universe in the pursuit of wisdom. Open his mind. Open his heart. Never, never give him cause to close them through the abuse of this guardianship.

I'll be watching you.

Psssssst

As a parent I find myself teetering between laughing at my children and wanting to yell at them. I know, you're not supposed to yell. But if you claim you have never yelled at your kids then you have never found them up to their arm pits in feces. I'm just saying. I most often falter at bedtime. This is in part to the manipulative little sneaks who live here.

With Cooper the tactic is pretty straightforward. He goes to his room. After a few minutes he comes out, wanders to the room I'm in and then says things like: I forgot to give you a hug and kiss; I found this quarter in my room, I thought you might like it; Is daddy keeping you up?

Well, how am I supposed to yell at him for this?

Mason is a bit more surreptitious. Just the other night he came out of his room an hour after I had put him down and asked me if I would come inspect his room. (Yes, he actually used the word inspect.) When I asked why he said, "Because I cleaned it for you."

When I got upstairs to inspect I discovered he had used about 127 baby wipes to literally wipe down his entire room. Frankly, it smelled fantastic. But the tightly wadded up, and wasted baby wipes got me a little irate.

More often he quietly spies on me. I've mentioned his perch. But he also has a secret shelter. In the office where I sit when I write posts on my blog (how's that for burying a lead?) I am just across the hall from my children's rooms. I usually don't make it to the computer, and thus the blog, until well past their bedtimes -- when they are supposed to be fast asleep.

Most of the time I'm practically asleep as I peck out the events of the day. Every once in a while -- as a rule, when my strong, handsome hubby is out of town -- I get spooked by noises. I imagine I'm hearing people open my garage door, walk on my porch, or rummage in my yard. Yes, I'm that crazy. But every once in a while, it's not my imagination. It's just Mason. Hiding. Under my desk.

And here is how he lets me know he is there. I take pictures before I bellow and usher him directly back to bed.

Stay 6 Days

When our family contemplates taking a road trip we weigh a few things as we decide what the perfect balance for our family is.

How long does it take to get there?
How much do you need to get done while you're there?
What will you miss at home?
How quickly will we wear out our welcome?

We have found that staying no longer than six days (with family) is perfect. As we pull away we're wishing we had one more day. But in truth we're starting to see our children throw a few more temper tantrums, our gracious hosts take a few more minutes to themselves, and our bodies start to feel the pull toward home.

The unfortunate part is that pull. It's really only strong enough to get your back in the driver's seat. Doesn't do much to soothe your aching arse when you are 6 hours in and still have a long way to go.

10 a.m.
We find ourselves waiting in line for what we hope will be our last drive-through for the next month (seriously we're cleansing). Somewhere between placing our order and pulling up to the first window we start debating the best route. It occurs to me that we should have looked up a few things online before embarking on our return. Does anyone know if snow is in the forecast?!?!?

From 11:49 until 11:51
Mason starts singing, "I'm a parachuting!" This is a song of his own invention. It's not particularly fun to listen to and it goes non-stop for at least 3 minutes. This doesn't sound like a long time. But just imagine watching the weather segment of your favorite local news. Now instead of hearing, "Partly cloudy with a chance of rain and snow showers..." you hear, "I'm a parachutingI'm a parachutingI'm a parachutingI'm a parachutingI'm a parachutingI'm a parachutingI'm a parachuting." It grates. I assure you.

1:31 p.m.
We cross into Colorado and at this point no one in the car is happy, amiable, nice, or pleasant. Myself included. In fact, I would say I was the most irritable. It might have had something to do with how bad I needed to pee. But as we all know, I don't do that in the out of doors.

1:47
Cooper moans, "I just want to sleep in my own bed." Amen to that.

1:51
A remarkably disturbing billboard comes into view. I won't go into all the details -- because it was much more interesting to see than to read about. But it ended with Genesis 1:1 and basically negated any reasonable educational measures that would advance any discussion of evolution. Where are we anyway?

3:01
We take a lunch break and then try to get back on the road. I get royaly lost. Oh I'm so mad that by the time I see a sign that says F Road, I almost blurt out the swears it's making me think of. And did you know Grand Junction has an F Road and an F 1/2 Road? You know, in case you didn't get pissed enough the first time around.

5:41
Cooper requires a pee break. We pull off in Frisco -- a delightfully quaint town -- and we find ourselves at the Loaf n Jug. Mason is asleep.

7
We're still barreling down the road when Mason wakes up and shouts, "And it's whacky!" from the backseat.

8
We're home. Now we'll begin weighing the deciding factors of when to go back.

PHOTO NOTE: Mason flexing his muscles. Now that's whacky.

I Still Sew

I don't mention many of my sewing adventures in this blog anymore. And don't you worry, I'm not going to start. But in case you were wondering, I update the sewing blog on Thursdays. And sometimes a few other days in between. There. Go see how absolutely cat-ladyish I can be. Go ahead. Make fun.

PHOTO NOTE: Every kids loves a cape.

Plowing Ahead

Let's see. I'm tired. So, I'll just begin at the beginning.

9:42 a.m.
We find ourselves kicking off our family vacation with a health conscious stop at McDonald's. This would just lead to a trip filled with comments like, "So this is what fat people feel like. " and "I'm going on a diet the minute we get back."

10:15
So I'm noticing a significant mood in the car. We're already short tempered and irritated. Something tells me that traveling with four sick people is a bad, bad, bad idea. By all means, we should keep going.

10:21
Steve notices an annoying clicking in the back of the car -- far out of everyone's reach. Which of course means I have to obsess on it. It's his golf clubs rattling against my golf clubs and that is remarkably unromantic despite all literal appearances. This will continue for at least 8 hours. Thrilled.

10:29
Ahhhhhhh, the mountains west of Denver are a flocked wonderland. I'm thinking about breaking into song. Instead, there's some farting from the back. A real mood swindler.

11
We drive into Eisenhower tunnel. At which time Cooper announces, "I'm not even sweaty!"

12:40 p.m.
Cooper starts to dance like his car seat is a friggin' hot plate. I wonder when he's going to tell us he needs to go to the bathroom.

1:41
We stop for gas and liberal bickering. We get lost. Well actually, Steve tells me to take an exit that is the wrong exit and I get illogically infuriated. People, I came undone.

2:21
Just as my less than peaceful mood subsides we pass a white flatbed parked in the middle of nowhere. No. Where. Atop the flatbed is a large, homemade (and poorly at that) particle board sign that yells, "JESUS SAVES!" Really? Where does he shop?

2:58
We pass a minivan with the bumper sticker, "If you don't love Jesus; Go to Hell!" I'd really like to get out of this part of the country, quickly.

4:13
We pass a few makeshift churches. You know the type... something that's a cross between a horse barn and a cable warehouse. Metal siding with a tin roof. Not inspiring and I realize I'm the type of person that cannot find spirituality in an ugly place. Cooper interupts my ponderings:

"Mommy can we sit on the clouds?

"Nope."

"Wouldn't that be so cool? We could look at the Earth."

Oh that's sweet, and rejuvenating, and innocently spiritual. I love him.

5:15
Cooper requires a side of the road pit stop. If you're wondering about Mason's bladder. Don't you worry. He has declared that potty training is not for him.

5:33
The grown ups make a pit stop. In an actual rest stop. Which I add as an afterthought, in the event that you think I am one of those types of people who can pee on the side of the road. Or on the side of anything. I am not. Clearly.

6:11
I back into the driveway of our vacation home. That was just fun to say. Call it a lie, if you must.

Just for the record, no one slept.

PHOTO NOTE: Cooper drew this picture in the car. It's a self portrait. He was very proud -- especially to point out the "private parts" he rendered for himself. Those would be the gigantic spheres drawn directly below his bellybutton on top of stick-thin legs. I think I'll hang onto that. He'll enjoy it so much when he's 23.

A Good Forgery

Please excuse Hooli for not finishing her homework over the past week. She has been loving on her kids, driving 558.44 miles (twice), visiting with her family and friends, missing her sewing machine, fretting her frozen plants, and seeing one of her four brothers for the first time in more than two years.

She will return with a full report and with all T's crossed and I's dotted -- or whatever. Come again, but not until tomorrow or you will be disappointed.

PS -- I've had a lot of practice in writing the fake sick note or two. Just ask my high school principal.

Wood: A Vote

As many of you know, we're remodeling. Yummy.

I love shopping for the raw materials. It's the work that scares me. And the part where I fear the project will go on and on and on and on...

We're doing some things in two of our bathrooms. I'm worried about the cabinets. We have oak cabinets with a decided farm-style in the kitchen. The powder room has no cabinets but the wood in there is a teak stained espresso. And now we come to the other bathrooms and I'm wondering what to put in there.

Does anyone out there have an opinion about mixing woods in a house? Does it bug you to see oak in one room, then alder in another? What about paint-grade white cabinets?

Thanks!
Wonderfully Worried