Project Runway

I first realized she could do it when she emerged from the living room with a squished stick of butter in her hands and a big smile on her face.  Unless she was able to manuever the huge hose on the Dyson vaccuum, the butter stunt meant she could scale the kitchen counter.  And I was right.

The next time (or, what I THINK is the "next time"), I was able to catch her with the element of surprise.  The bar stool had already been pushed across the room, and the baby was standing ON the counter talking to the birds outside the kitchen window.  I didn't want to startle her into falling, so I clamped my lips shut and gulped down my scream. 

Over the years I have learned you can kind of expect this sort of dare devil behavior from small children, because at this age they are formulating thoughts and exercising preferences.  Still, it's a shocker when you realize your baby can actually implement a plan.

The most recent exploit, though, really had me wondering about personalities that accompany these behaviors.  I understand that if the child is hungry, she'll find a way to get into the secured cereal cabinet and dump 3 pounds of Cheerios on the floor, and a few in the bowl too.  I can see how if she wants to make dessert  like the big sisters she'll pull out the vegetable oil which is loosely capped from the last set of Brownie Bakers (who also did not secure the cereal cabinet).  Babies mimic the people around them, which is why in this house no one can ever find their own toothbrush.

But what do you make of a baby who is pleased as punch to have you enter the Hub of the Household to see her prancing up and down the dining room table as if it were Project Runway?

(Un)Frozen Dinners

My daughter's friends were visiting in the midst of a dinner preparation. I think we were having stir-fry or something, and the counter was cluttered with veggies to be cut, and salad to be chopped.

One of the girls exclaimed, "Your family eats so organic!" and I just laughed.  We are far from that. I don't exclusively buy food specifically labeled as organic... I don't go out of my way to shop in specialty stores... I can't incur the expense of higher priced foods labeled as organic... How in the world could she perceive us as organic eaters?

"Well," she said, "you make your own food!"

And then it dawned on me.... she was referring to the fact that we buy very little pre-packaged and processed foods. (And we eat a lot of fresh salads).

This made me appreciate that we are really giving our kids a gift in making our own meals!  Further, they acquire knowledge and skills when they assist us, and their confidence in working in the kitchen grows too.

 And here I thought I was just saving money....

Deep Thoughts

Kel and Andy were driving past our local cemetery when Andy asked,
"Why do they bury dead people in the ground?"

Ahhh... life, death, respect, honor, grief, family, sadness, remembrance.

Kel pondered how to approach answering this question when Andy suddenly answered it himself:

"Well, I guess if they put them in the trees,
they would fall on the cars!"

Wopes

We have endured rain and rain and rain.  Flooded crop fields, muddied ruts in the driveway, running water in the basement... and everyone is affected, especially moms who would much rather be outside with the children.  So when there IS sun on the ground, the kids and I are out the door, usually taking long strolls through our quiet streets mid-morning.

F:  Look at that!  A wing!  In a wee!
G:  It won't fall down.  It has a wope.  The wope will hold it up.
F:   Can you wing on that wing?  Way high?
G:  Oh, yea.  Tires off twactors are good for dat.

"Just Turned" three year old boys love the puddles the rain leaves behind.
G:  I got me fwee wocks!
F:  I got two.
G:  Look how they jump on the water!
F:  Look how they make big wipples!

"Just Turned" three year old boys even know who is home mid-morning and who enjoys their visits.
F:  We want to go dat way.
G:  Okay. 
F:  I want to go see Zosul.
G:  Yea!
F:  I want to get popdorn balls at Zosul's house.
G:  YEA!!!!!!
F:  Then we go over dere.
G:  Okay.
F:  We get dookies and juice at Grammy's house. 
G:  And see the dogs!
F:  And the dat!
G:  And she has twucks!
F:  And dars!
G:  YEA!!!

Most comments from "Just Turned" three year old boys end in exclamation points.  They like to pause and watch a group of landscapers carve out sections of yards.  They like noticing squirrels on telephone poles.  They like listening to the sounds effusing from a water fountain in someone's front yard and discussing whether or not you should drink from it. 

For little boys, taking a long walk, mid-morning, is a good thing after days and days of rain.  But it's even better for moms who need an "out of the box" perspective so she doesn't feel like she's at the end of her wope.

The Candy

The Countdown. 
The Collection. 
The Candy.

So, we didn't have any crazed monsters emerging from hibernation that made my children run like mad to any house with a lit porch light.  However, we still ended up with a lot of Halloween candy.  It's a simple matter of mathematics; amassed candy is exponential with 7 Trick-or-Treaters (even when one is only collecting canned food items for the local food pantry).

Once The Run is done, the kids find a spot on the living room floor and dump the contents of their pillowcases, forming mounds of what will next be categorized sweets... the Gum, the Suckers, the Chewies, the Sours, the Chocolate (ah, if they only knew that this should be partitioned out into "Good Chocolate" and "Fake Chocolate"), the Others, and finally the Icky Stuff With Coconut for Dad.

After bartering and trading with each other, my kids are happy to share their Loot with me, and sometimes they don't even know it.  Afterall, I have easy access to the bowl on top of the refrigerator.  It's a sick secret Halloween desire, but every year I wish the kids would just eat it all that night and thus get  it quickly out of the house. 

I make myself an oath to only have a few pieces of  the "good" stuff (Twix, Payday, Baby Ruth, Kit Kat... Oh! I didn't know there were Snickers with Almonds!).  I swear off the lesser candy.  Really.  But after the likes of the elites are gone, I'll give in to a few of the mini M&Ms, Whoppers, and Twizzlers.  

And that's it.

But long after the costumes have been put away and the decorations taken down, Ziplock bags of candy will still linger in the dark hidden recesses of cabinets and closets. The children will have forgotten, but unfortunately I won't, and eventually I'll finally succumb to the Necco Wafers and the molasses laced confections of Mary Janes and Peanut Butter Kisses (you know the ones... in the black and orange wrappers.)  

It's truly the bottom of the barrel,

And it's creepy down there.

The Countdown

There are a few approaches to how we look at Halloween.  There's the horrifying, utterly grotesque side of goblins and ghouls and bloodied body parts alluded to in the Sunday newspaper flyers and on the Walmart shelves.  Then there's the cute, sweet side of rolls of Smarties, making handprint spiders, and weeks of trying on princess and froggie costumes from our stored Halloween tubs.  Depending upon the time of day, it's all fun.

We have neighbors down the street who really go all out in decorating their front yard.  Mr. B. spends all of October setting up his own cemetery, stringing huge spider webs, inflating the Grim Reaper's chariot, and installing batteries in the eye-blinking/ghost-howling/mummy-shaking/rat-gnawing ornamentations that adorn his trees and front porch. 

At night it's justifiably spooky.  But in the light of day it's absolutely fascinating, and our daily walks either start or end up with a prolonged visit at "The Halloween House".  We hope Mr. B. doesn't tire of our pestering, because his efforts have given a lot of joy to the children in this house.  He has ramped up the kids' Halloween Anticipation volume single-handedly (and you'll find the other hand, gooped in fake blood, hanging out of the wishing well by the sidewalk). 

The anticipation, though, is less about flying bats and all about getting The Loot.  Our little town really gets into the spirit and is known for super generous candy distribution.  Older couples spend days in front of their TVs assembling bags of goodies and trinkets to pass out to Trick-or-Treaters.  At some houses you'll get cans of pop, gift certificates, or even full sized candy bars.  And when you Trick-or-Treat at a house, you don't get one measley piece of candy, you might get handfuls!  Even better, you might get offered the whole bowl to grab as you wish!

All this, of course, has the potential to demonize even the loveliest of princesses.  But the reason people are so generous is because they know one another.  On All Hallow's Eve, people visit at doorsteps before moving on to the next home.  They dote and fuss over the children and take pictures. The Spidermen and Harry Potters and Cinderellas are kids you've been watching grow up for years and years now.  And when some of these kids are old enough to drive, they still come around to visit and collect canned food for the local food pantry.  You get a sense of "Neighborhood",  and on one thrilling night you get to see the bare bones of what makes up your community. 

And you find yourself looking forward to The Countdown.

Our Garbageguys

We are still cleaning out after 6 inches of rain water swooshed into our basement.  (Take note:  Rubbermaid totes are not truly waterproof if they float and then tip.)  And while I was able to salvage lots of things, much of it required laundering. I am the Queen of Laundry. 

The rest had to be pitched.  Big Black Bags of Stuff, now in a trash heap...  Stuff I've been holding onto "for one day" when I can do things like cross-stitch again without fear of children picking up stray supplies and using them to puncture their siblings' body parts.  It's a gross thought, but it could happen.

Okay, maybe that's the only thing I regret losing... the supplies, that is.  The rest of it really was excess and should have been donated somewhere a long time ago.  I'll do my best not to cringe when it all gets set out at the curb, not because I regret the loss, but because our Garbageguys will have to pick it all up. 

I love our Garbageguys, and so does my family.  We'll hear Josh and crew in their huge garbage crusher truck clamber up the street.  My kids will drop what they're doing and run to the front porch windows hoping to catch a glimpse..."The Garbageguys are here!!!!  THE GARBAGEGUYS ARE HERE!!!".  Or, if we're already outside, the kids will run up to the sidewalk's edge for a real close view.  They'll be greeted with a huge "HELLO!!!"  and "Are you kids having fun today??"  And then their big eyes will watch in awe as the men haul our big green bags and cans over their shoulders and toss them like paper wads into the mouth of the machine.  A lever will be pulled, and a claw-toothed arm will screech and squeal and engulf  the stuff that came from our house.

The kids will step back a bit, because it's noisy and intimidating.  But the men will grab the now empty cans and lids and race them up to the front of our house, taking care on especially windy days to ensure they won't tumble back into the street.  One of the Garbageguys might run over to the kids for a whole Victory Lane of High 5's.  Waving goodbye, the Garbageguys will hop back on their ride and clamber to the next row of houses, and they will hear me, and all the children, yelling "THANK YOU" and "THANK YOU SOME MORE".

If we are lucky, we will see them again when we are out on our walk, and don't you know our Garbageguys will beep the horn and wave to us across several streets.  They're good like that.

Tomorrow night our family will unfortunately be setting out more garbage than usual, and my conscience is tweaked because of it.  While we do Reduce/Reuse/Recycle, what is left over is put on our Garbageguys, and for me those are the first real faces of who has to deal with "too much waste".