Freestone's Excellent Adventure

With a couple of days of nice weather, the world is waking up and we're coming out of hibernation. Hooray! Freestone kicked off the Spring Season of end-of-year activities with a field trip to the Treehouse Museum. He usually has afternoon kindergarten and the field trip was in the morning. He brought home a note that emphasized that everyone had to be at the school in the morning to catch the bus to the museum. He made sure I read the note several times, out loud, to make sure I understood the time frame. The morning of the field trip, Free got up so early that he was absolutely convinced it was afternoon by the time we left for school at 8:20. He was supposed to be there by 8:50, but we couldn't wait any longer. All the way to the school, he sobbed, "You didn't read the note! It was supposed to be morning! I missed the bus and you'll have to drive me. You didn't read the time!" The poor kid was weeping and wailing! I kept telling him we had plenty of time, but he didn't believe me until right after I took the picture of his worried little face. At that point, he looked around the kindergarten room and everyone was still there, waiting for the bus. He smiled, put his hands in his pockets and sauntered into the room, looking cool and unconcerned for his peers. Like he hadn't been at all stressed. He had a great time at the Treehouse. I could tell because when he got home, he said the field trip was "dumb." Then he smiled.

Super Mom

I got a flier in the mail for a local spa. The title was, "What can relax Mom faster than a speeding bullet?" Jay Leno would love this one! I guess it depends on what the speeding bullet is aimed at and if it hits the mark. Getting hit by a speeding bullet is not the kind of relaxation I'm looking for. Maybe I'm outside this particular demographic? The other thing I find funny is that the flier promotes "relaxing" as something you can do really, really quickly, so you can get back to you crazy life as SuperMom! That's something I can relate to!

Cukoo

I looked pretty cute today. One of the other moms at Chuck E. Cheese told me so. It was such a nice compliment! Later, I realized that I had lipstick all over my teeth, a reservoir of chocolate crumbs resting on my enormous belly, and a giant hair clip on top of my head from when it was windy in the car. Marcy, the other mom, was so nice I sat down to rest my weary abdomen and chatted with her for a few minutes, calling her "Marsha."

Now it's hours later and I can't call her and apologize for calling her the wrong name. I do know her phone number by heart because our kids have played together so many times. I know she was sincere when she complimented me; She has eleven kids. I think she gets why I'm so intellectually vacant. I just hope she got a chuckle at my expense. I should tell her that I left my car running while I was in the hardware store last week. Marsha...I mean Marcy deserves a laugh for being so understanding.

Clean Sweep

I finally broke down. I hired a cleaning lady. I thought if she could just come once and pick up all the stuff off the floor and make everything look shiny, I'd be set for life. Now I'm addicted. The cleaning lady came with an assistant and tons of cleaning supplies of her own and went to work scrubbing things that I hadn't even realized were dirty. While the ladies were purifying and polishing, I was able to finish the laundry and organize the laundry room. Did you hear that? FINISH the laundry.

When Scott came home, he was dazzled by my efforts. The whole house was clean at once! Usually you have to really focus on the clean parts and divert your attention away from the clutter in other areas. After the cleaning ladies came, you could look anywhere and see crumb-free zones and clean, empty surfaces.

Now I'm thinking of ways to get more money to pay for more cleaning. My one-time deal is already an idea of the past. The ladies are coming back next month. I don't care what I have to do; it's the best money I've ever spent and I can't go back to partially clean. Maintaining a house sometimes reminds me of the guy from Greek mythology who spent eternity rolling a heavy stone up a hill, only to have it roll down again every time he neared the top. (Sysiphus?) That guy must have done something really offensive to get that punishment. I relate to him every time I hear milk spilling in the kitchen while I'm cleaning toothpaste off the bathroom sink. Sure, the kids help me clean, in the same way monkeys can be trained to do math. Lots of work for the trainer.

Now that I have two awesome women to help me push that stone up the hill, my muscles are quickly atrophying. I can't do it alone! Maybe I've become weaker, but I sure feel stronger and more empowered by my gleaming surroundings. And I'm happier. Just ask the monkeys.

Pain in the Neck

I love Ruby's calendar. She has been quite nervous about the surgery she had today, as evidenced by her crossing off the days on her dolphin calendar. The only other event she had written was "pick up litter" on Earth Day. Pick up litter and wait for the day you get your neck sliced open. I can see why she has been dreading this day, but Ruby's surgery went very well. Our favorite surgeon, Mike, took out an infectious growth that has been hurting Ruby for months. We so appreciate the personal attention and expertise Mike offered. The growth was right on her facial nerve. One slip of the scalpel and her face would have been contorted for life, but we knew Mike would never let that happen. That peace of mind is priceless when your little girl is under the knife.

We also appreciate Grandma, Coco and Emily for babysitting and Jennie for bringing us a perfect dinner. It seems we have had many days this spring when we were in need of help. As much as I'd rather be on the giving end of favors, it is so comforting to know that we have so much support when it's needed. When it rains, it pours, and it has poured not only actual rain this spring, but seemingly endless medical concerns. We've never experienced this kind of deluge, and I'm hoping for a drought real soon! All said, we are healthy and grateful for it. All this stuff is just growing pains!

The Best-Laid Plans

Yesterday...it's about time for some warm weather!!
Xanthe forgot her backpack for Teacher Jen's class this morning. We were parked in front of the school and it was time to go in. Freestone had the perfect solution.

"We could go to the bank, get a sucker, take the wrapper off without ripping it, go to Ellison's house and put the code in her computer and the backpack will just come in the mail. And it doesn't have to be a superheroes backpack." Well, I don't know why I didn't think of that, except that it's an urban legend that Dum Dum sucker wrappers can be used to order toys online, and that if it were true, it would take several weeks to get the backpack, which is longer than the one minute we have until school starts. I'm thinking Xanthe can go without a backpack today.

Now I'm beginning to see why "Go get your shoes on" doesn't translate into kids immediately getting their shoes on. Kids have absolutely no concept of time. They also live in an elaborate reality where all things are possible. An hour later, Freestone was still set on the sucker wrapper idea. I told him to go to the mailbox and see if there were any checks (from violin renters) that we can take to the bank. He came really close to completing the task, but there was a hornet in the mailbox. It looks like now our plan is to go to the hardware store, buy bug spray, kill the hornet, get the mail, take the checks that are in the mail to the bank, get a sucker, take the wrapper to Ellison's house, enter the code into her computer and receive a backpack in the mail. Really, it's a foolproof plan. In Freestone-atopia.

Nana's Little Family

Twenty-five years ago, all of my cousins on my mom's side could fit snuggly in Opa and Nana's living room, which we did almost every Sunday. We went around the room and gave updates on our lives. Someone was always returning from someplace interesting or planning a trip or graduating, going on a mission, having new experiences.

Just as things have changed, they have stayed the same. Last night the DeBrys gathered in Nana's living room to talk about Paul and Rita's mission in Nauvoo, Jim and Da's kids' sports, Mark and Marla's cross-country trip and new grandchildren and all of my cousins' adventures in raising families. Paul and Rita were here visiting from Nauvoo and it was a rare treat to see them and feel the unity that the past few months of blogging and letter-writing have engendered. Years ago, we all kept in touch through a newsletter Nana compiled and mailed out each month. As a college student, I savored every word of that newsletter. Now phone calls and emails are free and the blogs keep us more connected than we ever were. I'm really grateful for that.

I am blessed to be surrounded by the great examples of my aunts and uncles, who have taught me about integrity, faith, love, harmony and making really good salads. All of my aunts are so extremely capable, raising families with a surplus of enthusiasm for the tasks at hand. My cousin, Laura, told me that the way her mother raised seven kids so successfully is that all the kids felt like they came first. Everything else could always wait if a child needed something. I think about that almost every day as I try to follow that example. At Nana's house, children are treated kindly and respectfully. If they have a question, there is always a comfy lap to climb into and a soft voice to explain things to them. There are always adults bragging about them and telling them to help themselves to more lemon dessert. That's Opa and Nana's legacy, the soft voices and the kindness.

While my cup was being filled and by heart was swelling from the family togetherness, Araceli's face was swelling from the plants the kids were picking in the backyard. Ari had 20 paper cups filled with ground cover that she apparently was allergic to. (Of course none of the kids were scolded for picking most of Nana's plants and wasting all the paper cups!) All the way home, Ari cried about her face hurting. This morning, she was puffy and crimson, with blisters all over her face. Imagining my snaggle-toothed, hive-covered little girl swelling beyond recognition, I took her to the doctor. He prescribed an antihistimine, Scott prescribed a day off from first grade, and she's as good as new. Just puffier.

I don't mind having Ari home from school. She can help me work on my newly-inspired project of being a better mom and a better person...like the people around me! Thanks for all the great examples!

Destinations

If we can just make it until tomorrow, the sun will come out! I'm not sure if I can do one more day of 37 degrees that "feels like 34," according to the weather people. How do they decide how warm it feels as opposed to how warm it actually is? I think they're wrong. It's 37, but it feels like we've been stuck in Dante's inferno of never-ending misery, but without the benefit of the flames of eternal damnation, for months. We never even had a fake spring to get our hopes up. It's abnormal, really, that my moods are so tied to the weather. I once read a short story by Ray Bradbury that took place on Venus, where it was rainy all the time. The sun came out once every seven years and one student somehow got locked in the school and missed the sunny day. The end. I'm still haunted by the story and angry at Mrs. Alexander for having us read it without warning us of the graphic nature of the plot. This spring, I'm beginning to feel like I'm in a Ray Bradbury story.

I lived in Paris the spring of my 9th grade year (March to June), and it rained a lot. Rain in Paris is romantic and beautiful and fun. Everyone has an umbrella and the city looks like a Maurice Prendergast painting when there's a downpour. The puddles refect 16th century architecture and the grey sky makes the Mansard roofs and cathedral spires look magical. There's always a tiny bookstore or obscure museum or, best of all, a fancy patisserie to duck into if the shower becomes a downpour. I keep telling myself that this spring is just like Paris. (It's my American optimism!) It's not exactly the same, but I do have the stunning mountian views and spring flowers to edify me. Besides, it's much better than the image of Ray Bradbury's Venus story. I bet there are no pastries on Venus.

Husband's Guide to Pregnancy

If you're living with a pregnant person, I feel for you. These are trecherous waters, and it is dangerous to navigate them unprepared. You can't just say things anymore; you had better consider every word and action and weigh it for possible negative innuendo. It's a little bit like working with trained tigers. Siegrfried and Roy are highly trained professionals, and look what happened to them. Here's a guide that might help:

Symptom: morning sickness
How to react: Have you ever been so sick that a picture of the time period when you were sick still makes you gag TEN years later? I didn't think so. You wife is that sick, and she still gets out of bed and does everything she would do if she weren't sick. My advice is, if you get a cold, stomach flu or bunnion, you darn well better pretend you're not sick. If you must, take a nap at the office under your desk. Not at home where your wife is helping with a science project and driving carpools in between dashes to the toilet.

Symptom: irritablility
How to react: You can't win on this one. Just stay out of the path of the crankiness unless you're needed for a food run. And give her the remote. NOW!!

Symptom: fatigue
How to react: She's going to fall asleep in front of the TV right after eating a tub of ice cream at 8:00 at night for the first trimester. Do not wake her up, especially if it's to ask where something is. You know the milk is in the fridge. Where else could it be?

Symptom: cravings
How to react: If your wife sends you to Panda for orange chicken and mushroom beef with half fried rice and half chow mein, DO NOT come home with gyros. Your wife could hold it against you for the rest of your unborn baby's life. And I guarantee you won't enjoy one bite of that gyro.

Symptom: misgivings and fear about the pregnancy
How to react: When your wife is in tears and says, "Maybe we shouldn't have kids," don't laugh. Sure, that ship has sailed and it's too late to reconsider, but you still have to pretend your wife is completely sane and discuss the problem as if it were real. Never attribute her moods to the pregnancy. You should know that by now from dealing with PMS.

Symptom: weight gain
How to react: Never say, "Didn't you already eat?" or, "Geez, have a little butter on your toast, why don't you!" In fact, don't refer to anything having to do with food. Your wife is battling nausea, heartburn and a long and ever-changing list of taboo foods that may cause your baby to be born with three arms. She's going to eat what she wants. Now move over. You're blocking the fridge.

Symptom: healthy glow
How to react: She doesn't have it. It's a myth. Pretend she's glowing like the Eiffel Tower at night and compliment her for it.

Symptom: In a moment of inattention, she asks you a pregnancy-related question.
How to react: Don't answer it. Never offer advice. And never say, "Are you sure you can eat that? Are you sure you should be doing that?" Yes, she's sure, because the ratio of pregnancy books she's read to the number you've read is roughly 200:0.

Symptom: nesting
How to react: When you find her painting the nursery, refer to the previous advice. Of course she's sure the paint fumes won't hurt the baby. She has looked it up in five books, googled it and read the first thousand entries and asked 57 friends their opinion, which they were qualified to give because...they've been pregnant. Your job is to hand her the roller while she's up on the ladder. And yes, she's being careful and yes, she's sure she should be doing that.

If you follow all of my advice AND get extremely lucky, you should sail through pregnancy just fine. Good luck! Any other advice, ladies?

Blogette

Araceli has her own blog, in case you want to read it. It's not online, though. You have to come to our house to see it. She worked hard in the car all the way home from Ruby and Free's guitar lesson, and that's a loooong drive. It gave her enough time to draw the keyboard and the screen, and to post a few pictures. I haven't "read" it yet, but I bet she posted about losing a front tooth and being visited by the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny on the same night. And she probably talked about her club that meets at recess. There are 10 members so far, including Freestone and Jakey, but everyone and their friends are invited to join. You just have to write your name on the list.

The school counselor told me that Ari seems to have the ability to make people do what she wants them to, and to make them believe it was their idea. Indeed, she has used that skill quite successfully on her own mother numerous times. I would love it if Ari did have a blog, so I could read her thoughts and find out what drives my little powerhouse. After dinner, she told Freestone she was looking at violins on her computer. She was so interested in all the violins she was finding on her paper computer, Freestone had to join in. Before long, Ari had to add a backspace key to the keyboard because Freestone hit the wrong letter when he was googling "guitars." I don't know what it is in kids that lets them believe they're looking at purple polka-dot guitars and pink striped violins on a computer screen made of paper. Theirs is a magical reality.

Scott's Easter Album

Circe's Easter Album

April 10, 2009

Presents from Coco and Bill
Dressed in a new dress form Emmy, ready for lunch with Daddy.

Pepperbelly's with Daddy and fried ice cream for dessert.
Playdate with Izzy

Looks like a pretty fun birthday!

Birthday Time

This is what the inside of my refrigerator looked like at 4:00 this morning. I heard a crash and jumped out of bed like a firefighter. I couldn't find the source of the crash anywhere. When I went to the fridge for a drink, I opened it to find refrigerator bisquits draped over everything, and a shelf was broken. Salvador Dali would have loved it, except that bisquit dough isn't as symbolic as clocks. Or is it?...

I think the can of biscuits exploded and broke the shelf. Unless the shelf spontaneously broke in the middle of the night and made the biscuits explode. It's a good existential problem to be pondered in the early morning hours. Which came first, the biscuits or the shelf? It was a doughy representation of Chinese fireworks, maybe, to commemorate Xanthe's birthday. Besides the fireworks, Xanthe went to a special lunch with Daddy and did a lot of everyday things with the word "birthday" in front of them. Birthday bubble bath. Birthday pancakes. Birthday coloring. Birthday playdates with Eli and Izzy. She wore her beautiful new dress that Emmy gave her. She visited Coco and received a giant package of paper cups for her birthday, as well as an alphabet puzzle. Nobody can have a drink without Xanthe's permission now, so I think the birthday paper cups were a big hit. Xanthe had so much birthday fun, she fell asleep at 6:00. Happy birthday, little one!

Easter Loafing

This is how you know we're on vacation: the kids played Little Big Planet ALL DAY LONG. And I let them. I'm horrified, but they were having so much fun together, cheering when they got to a new level, and taking time out for victory dances. Whenever one of them wandered out of the TV room, I put them to work with me on my clean-out-the-basement/figure-out-what's-wrong-with-the dryer/give-half-of-our-stuff-away project. By day's end, I was ready for an activity that didn't require remote controls for the kids or heavy lifting for me. Scott even participated cast-free!

Dying Easter eggs and making chocolate-dipped Peeps was the perfect way to end a day of loafing. Now we can have chocolate Peeps on sticks for breakfast for Xanthe's "real" birthday tomorrow. It will help soften the blow when I try to explain that her "real" birthday is the day there's no party. Or maybe we'll have to have a party...

Spring Break Rocks!!

We really needed a break from the routine. Even if the weather says winter, the calendar says Spring Break. Yippee!! I'm feeling pretty good about sleeping in, slacking on practicing and overseeing huge craft projects. Today's project was melted crayons on rocks, which I got from the Queen of Kids' Crafts herself, Michelle. She even came by in person to supervise. (Thanks!) Through the trial and error of 14 kids, we concluded that medium-sized, smooth rocks are the best. They retain the heat longer than small rocks and the melted crayon looks smoother. This craft is cheap, not messy and lots of fun. It rocks! :) (See Michelle's blog for instructions.)

Scott came home for lunch to find a grundle of kids eating chips in the middle of the floor. He grabbed Freestone, spruced him up and made a beeline for Rooster's, where Free got his very own ice cream sundae. Oh, and lunch, too. Every kid gets a lunch with Dad during Spring Break, and it was Freestone's turn today because he was closest to the front door. Scott knows better than to stick around when kids and crafts are mixing.

Later in the day, not a single kid was left. Golda was shopping with Coco and all the others had fled in other moms' cars. I seized that opportunity to vacuum the whole house, even under the couches. When I finished, I discovered that there was NOTHING in the vacuum filter. And the air was a little hazy. Thinking back, I remembered letting the kids assemble the new vacuum I bought this morning. My first clue that they didn't read the instructions (besides the fact that they're five) was that the vacuum came apart when I turned it on. Missing screws. I found some ill-fitting replacement screws, a ribbon and an elastic headband to hold the thing together and whisked it around the house. Turns out, a hose wasn't attached and I blew everything that was in the carpet into the air. That should help our spring allergies. After the dust settled, I vacuumed again. There are more glamorous ways to spend Spring Break, yes, but I'm happy right here with my rocks and dust and some pretty fun kids.

Queen of the Jungle

Xanthe's face painting show a little indecision. I think she's some kind of panda-leopard hybrid. I'm sure this came about because she wanted to be ALL the animals.







Happy FOURTH birthday to Xanthe! It's not her birthday until Friday, but we celebrated with a jungle party this morning. Golda, Ruby and Lexie did very impressive jungle animal faces on all the kids, transforming them into a bunch of beasts. (None more dangerous than the Spicy Beast!) Ever since Chinese New Year in January, Xanthe has been under the continual impression that it's her birthday, and finally it was time for a real, live party with cousins and friends. Xanthe had a little argument with Ruby before the party about gift giving. Xanthe's idea was that since it was HER birthday, she got to give all her friends a present. When Ruby argued with her on that point, she kept saying, "Well, it's MY birthday!" As soon as Ruby convinced her that all the kids were bringing presents for Xanthe, she changed her mind about the giving. Xanthe had a great time, other than the hacking smokers' cough she developed for the event. The whole time she was opening gifts, she coughed and hacked in the most dramatic way imaginable. The jungle birthday will be remembered as the most phlegmy of all time. Yikes. Sorry, everyone!

We spent the rest of the sunny day at the park and Xanthe was sound asleep in the car on the way home by 4:00. It's tiring being the Queen of the Jungle. We love you, little Spicy Girl!

Forks and Maui

What do you do when the weather is alternating between rain, snow, sleet and hail? You go to Hawaii. At the first sight of precipitation, the littles donned beach gear and decorated their room with plenty of leis. The bedroom is cheery, but now the mudroom looks like a tropical storm hit a surf shop from all the foraging for swimwear. It's an improvement over the former look: like boots and gloves has spontaneously multiplied.

Meanwhile, Golda couldn't be bothered to get out of the car, so she sat in the driveway in the storm, reading Eclipse. She's thoroughly ensconced in a mythical world of vampires and werewolves, while the other kids are off on their Hawaiian vacation.

Hello, is there anybody still here in reality with me?! I can see why they wouldn't want to stay here. I feel exactly like I'm on a roller coaster. I'm never more miserable than when someone convinces me a roller coaster ride is fun. The whole time, I grit my teeth and will the ride to end, thinking about how there is a chance I may not survive. Spring is the same way. An inch of hyacinth poking out of the ugly, sodden ground is not cutting it for me. My teeth are clenched and I'm waiting for a glimmer of real sunlight. All I get is more sleet and The Thistle and Shamrock on NPR. If there's anything that inspires despair more than 30 degree weather, it's Celtic music.

I know I'm complaining, and that my blessings are more numerous than the snowfakes, but I'd still rather think of them as more numerous than the grains of sand on a sun-drenched beach. Maybe I'll go upstairs and see if the kids will take me on their Hawaiian vacation with them. I definitely don't want to go to Forks with Golda! It's too rainy.