Snowed Under
Feb 08, 2010 
We got 32 inches of snow from Friday to Saturday. They say there have only been 2 other storms in the last 60 years that compare to the amount of snowfall we got in such a short time. I went to the store on Thursday, and it was a madhouse! No parking. Crazy long lines. They went about halfway down the shopping aisles. And the same thing Friday morning. School was cancelled Friday and will be cancelled again tomorrow (Monday).
This is our parking lot. They were very good about plowing and snowblowing the walks.
Rick began the process of digging out our cars on Saturday. He worked all evening and got about halfway done. He finished today and is now groaning about his sore arms and back. We heard the sirens and watched an ambulance head down our street . . . apparently a man had a heart attack from too much shoveling. (!!!)
Khyah and I made a quick visit outdoors to take some pictures of London and Daddy. Rick insisted on taking some pictures of us. My face clearly says: “Why are you taking my picture, honey?” And Khyah’s clearly says she LOVES snow and being outdoors.
London hard at work shoveling. He was outside almost as long as daddy. 32 inches is a school boy’s dream, right?
You can see he has his work cut out for him.
The boys all decked out ready to go play. Note London’s snow pants. They’re about 3 sizes too small, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to have pants that slide on the snow . . . that and the “rare color,” as he called it.
Chocolate and a Little Valentine’s Help
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
Growing up, I loved the book “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” Whenever we had the dreaded broccoli casserole, I would imagine it raining hamburgers or something yummy. (Either that, or pretend I was sick!)
Anyone who has read the book, knows the new movie that just came out has very little to do with it (other than, you know, food raining down). Usually I hate that, but in this case, I was prepared. Silly gags, fun with food, a little bit of love . . . we enjoyed it. That might have a lot to do with the fact that we watched it with our 6- and 3-year-old . . . nevertheless, fun for all.
So I asked my family what they would invent if they could. Here is what I got:
3-year-old: A Banana! One that I like! (He does not eat fresh fruit. Vegetables, yes. Fruit, no.)
When I pressed him on it, he changed his mind: A cookie! With chocolate on top, sprinkles on the bottom, chocolate on the sides, and chocolate in the middle. (Can you guess he likes chocolate?)
6-year-old: An underground base that would beam all my friends into it. (I can imagine that would be a pretty crowded place since he’s our little social butterfly.)
My husband: An interface that would let me download information directly into my brain. (Do you think he might be a wee-bit stressed about his upcoming boards this summer? Maybe a little.)
As for me: I would invent the internet. I mean Al Gore did, why can’t I?
Okay, seriously, I would invent an All-Purpose Item Detector. With this device, you could program in specific items (keys, wallet, lego pieces, blankies, binkies, etc.), and then when they are lost, you could select that pre-identified item, and the machine would do its stuff.
I honestly don’t lose my keys very often (really), but the boys’ toys? Talk about a life-saver.
“Mom, where’s my green jedi?” “Mom, where’s my Voltron guy . . . not the red one!” “Mom, where’s the teeny, tiny lego piece missing from my ship?”
I mean, surely every item has some specific identifier that makes it unique, right? It can’t be all that hard. Get with my program, inventor people! I’ll even let you have my idea. 🙂
So what would you invent?
Who Needs Sleep?
So our darling angel-by-day transforms into a shrieking stinker by night. (Sounds a lot like Shrek to me.) With both London and Brandt, I could sleep through the cries, no problem. But Khyah’s little wail just strikes me in the depth of my bosom and I jerk out of sleep like a Mexican jumping bean (and those things are real, in case anyone wondered).
I have been Little Miss Grumpy Pants all week, and soon, I feel certain my brain will enter shut-down mode to preserve what little battery I have left. And then where will I be?
So, in desperation, I am going to let her cry it out. Multiple sources tell me I need to let her cry it out. I need to put my foot down about midnight snacks. She can sleep 8 hours in a stretch and all this should only take 3 days.
We never did this with the boys because London would throw-up which I couldn’t deal with (that and his daddy’s a big softy), and Brandt was always a pretty good sleeper—he doesn’t take naps . . . but at least he sleeps at night.
So, all you experts out there . . . what did you do to get your baby to sleep through the night? Any suggestions? Coping strategies? Name of the store you bought earplugs? Because I’m having visions of white coats and white walls while I shriek to anyone who’ll listen: “SLEEP?! I DON’T NEED NO STINKIN’ SLEEP! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!” (You’ll have to make the laugh sound as maniacal as you can in your own imagination.)
Mishaps and a Leopard-print Pillow
Okay, you can ignore my crusty-looking foot. Just note the huge bulge on my ankle.
Yes, I managed to sprain it playing basketball. I haven’t played in YEARS . . . like 12 of them . . . and I used to joke that I retired after 10th grade. Man, if only I hadn’t fallen for the Michael Jordan syndrome and come out of retirement.But alas, there we are. Stupid ankle. (Doh! That word again. London would be scolding me if he knew.)Fortunately, I had wonderful people to take care of me. One of them even loaned me the leopard-print pillow (which, I might add, is very soft and perfect for propping up my foot).So let’s see, I have now sprained both ankles and most of my fingers at one time or another (we won’t mention the time I slammed my own finger in the door when I was mad . . . teen years shouldn’t count, right?), strained my right quadriceps, and broken my wrist, toe, and nose.How about you? Please assure me that this is typical, and I’m not really a clutz. Look right for a poll.
Stats
This is Khyah learning to drive. And she was MAD when I took it away. We’re in trouble!
Resolutions and a Little Silliness
I did a quick search to see if I could find my resolutions from last year. Nope, not recorded in the journal. So I guess that means I kept them all. BUT, here are some pretend ones so we can all feel good about that assessment:
- Start a blog. Check.
- Start the next draft of Prince Bob. Check.
- Have a baby. Check.
- Get back to pre-baby weight. Check.
- Be more patient. Che . . . well, this is kind of an “always” resolution, so we’ll go ahead and say Check.
Of course, I COULD go on (wink, wink, nod, nod), but you get the point. I definitely accomplished things this past year. And may I just say, that resolutions are SO much easier when you write them down after the fact.
But not to let sleeping dogs lie, or whatever idiomatic expression would fit better there, I am going to actually record some resolutions for this coming year. And a year from now, I can reassess and see if I don’t prefer last year’s method of writing them down after I accomplished them.
Okay, here we go:
- Lose weight. Cliche I know, but alas, there we are. And yes, I know what you’re thinking: that’s a vague goal, but I have a plan. No, really. I just don’t want to reveal all my secrets. Bwa, ha ha. (maybe I should add a resolution to work on my evil laugh.)
- Read with London every day. I can hear your gasp. “But all good mothers do that anyway without having to set a goal! And what about your other children?” Yes, yes, we do that, but I mean the “he-reads-to-me” kind of reading. He has my temperment (i.e. throw-a-fit-when-you-can’t-do-it-perfect-the-first-time-behavior), but he’ll get there. Dad, your curse is in full force. Oh, and sorry.
- Finish draft 2 and 3 of my book. How long did the first draft take you, you ask? Details, details. Never you concern yourself with that.
- Start a blog. Oh . . . wait! That one’s already taken. But on the bright side, I’ll just check it off now. Check.
- Visit at least 1 cool thing in the area per month. Totally attainable. The trick will be making it something different every month. But note, that’s not actually part of the goal. 🙂 Every good resolution list has to have at least one loophole. Right?
I think 5 is good for now. Though I have others, I’m choosing not to list them here . . . that whole mystique thing. 🙂 So are there any uber-unique resolutions out there? I’d love to hear them. And in fact, maybe I will add a sixth, uber-unique one, just for kicks and giggles. Let’s see, it would have to be something I wouldn’t normally do . . . something legal, of course . . . something that might challenge me . . . and that may be just a little silly. I could sew something wearable that’s NOT a costume. But that’s not very silly. I could read a non-fiction book. Definitely something I wouldn’t normally do, but there again, not very silly. Ah, wait, I have it:6. I resolve to hold a contest with an actual prize on my blog. Pointless, you say? Maybe. But I wouldn’t normally do it. It’s legal (except in states where prohibited, of course). It will be a challenge, because I still have to come up with what the contest will be. And last but not least, it’s a little silly. And funny, I’m actually excited by the prospect! Random contest, here we come!
Name-calling
Brandt adores London. He has to do everything his brother does. If London gets a treat, Brandt wants one. If London has reading practice, Brandt does too. If London bites his tongue when eating, Brandt suddenly has an owie in his mouth.
So when London accused Brandt of calling him a name, not to be left out, Brandt was ready with his own accusation: “Now you called me a name, mama!”
“I did not call you a name, Brandt.”
“Yes, you did! You called me Omar!”
And I admit, I laughed. Silly boys.
Mistletoe: Really?
I think it’s a rule that you have to include a mistletoe scene in every Christmas movie you make. In fact, I just watched Donald and Daisy kiss under the mistletoe. But I have to wonder, does it ever happen in real life? Does it take away my mystique to confess that I have never kissed anyone under the mistletoe? Okay, so I won’t confess, but you get my point.
You do get it . . . right?
So, in the spirit of polling (once you start, it’s hard to stop), I want to know if mistletoe is just a movie thing, or if it’s actually used in real life. Look to the right margin to vote.
And not to break a newly formed tradition, a bit of mistletoe trivia: While mistletoe can grow on its own, it is more often a parasitic plant (i.e. it preys on the good graces of other plants, usually trees). In Europe, mistletoe produces white, sticky berries which are “considered to be” poisonous (whatever that means). And last but not least, in Scandinavia, mistletoe was considered a “peace plant” and thus, spouses who had argued could kiss and make up under it. In medieval Eurpe, however, mistletoe was hung in doorways to ward off witches. What to make of that . . .
Sharing Traditions
Today, I got to visit London’s kindergarten class and show them how to make cinnamon twists. The teacher invited parents to come in and share their holiday traditions, so this was our offering. London was practically jumping out of his skin, he was so excited. His teacher told me that London bragged all day that he already got to eat a cinnamon twist last night, “So when my mom comes, guess how many cinnamon twist-es I’ll have had?! Two!” And may I say that his teacher does a pretty good impression of London.
London got to be my helper, and showed all his friends how to dip the dough in butter, cinnamon-sugar, and then twist. Twisting was amazingly hard for them to do. Some really didn’t want to get butter and sugar on their hands. And a few of the kids finally just mushed their twist into a ball. Very amusing. One or two wanted to eat the sugary dough, but fortunately I brought a pan of already-baked twists so they could all taste them. We had fun.
Khyah sat in her stroller and happily munched on a plastic bag until one of the kids told on her. She screamed bloody murder when I took it away, but accepted her binky as a peace offering. Th teacher’s assistant was very happy to hold her.
Brandt was THRILLED to be at school with the big kids. At circle time, the teacher let Brandt call out all the kid’s names as they were drawn from the basket. Brandt stood calmly at the front, and carefully pronounced each name (and some weren’t so easy). The kids thought he was super cute. They giggled when he said a name wrong, and patted him on the head when they took their name from him. The teacher was very impressed that he was willing to do that.
What can I say? I just have impressive kids. 😀