The January Snowfall

It wasn't a blizzard; although the weathermen tried to say it a few times.  When the wind isn't blowing the snow sideways at 45mph, it doesn't qualify as a blizzard, in my meteorological experience.  It started as a typical Oklahoma ice storm, the kind of ice storm where you get machine gunned down by tiny crystals from the sky.  The kids always try to go outside during the ice storms, but are back in within minutes feeling bruised in the face. 

Because getting machine gunned down by Mother Nature and her peeps doesn't feel good.  Heh.  But the ice would let up a bit and the kids would rush outside, convinced they could take it.  "Get the sled out!  Holy cow, this is the 3rd time we've gotten to use it this winter!"

If we Oklahomans were used to this ice stuff and could actually drive upon it, we'd have taken the kids to a cool hill somewhere with their sled (notice how I keep saying "sled" and not "sleds" - plural - even though we have plural kids in the neighborhood...in OK, it's just unnecessary for every family to buy a sled to use once a year, at the most, so the kids all take turns on the cool neighbors' sled).  But alas, we parents don't like to die so the kids just have to sled down the driveways and into the streets.  Kevin had issues with this, as there were cars coming and going.  Eh. They lived.

And then early Friday morning, the snowflakes started.  And it was absolutely beautiful.  Just a nice steady snowfall, with monstrous flakes and hardly any wind.  And it snowed all stinkin' day. 

How awesome is this?  This never happens in Oklahoma - thick snow drifting toward the ground. 

And then today, the sun peeked out and the temperatures creeped up to a whopping 30.  Snow shovels (again, we don't have one because why?) were brought out and the driveways were scraped.  Because otherwise, you get a nice sheet of ice that stays for a while.

You can't really see too well, but the tree is completely encased in ice.  I tried a photography-creative shot here, but it doesn't do it justice!

Where was Paul?  Oh, he came out a time or two.  We'd huff and puff to get him bundled up, he would clomp outside, he would fall down in the snow and then he'd want to come in.  I'll make him go out tomorrow and take pictures - "Paul, you will not come inside until I have 5 shots of you having fun...get to it now."

Christmas Day 2009

As the blizzard swept through our state on Christmas Eve, it was pretty obvious by late afternoon that no one was going anywhere for Christmas.  No grandparents, on any side, no Mass, no nothing. 

And I won't lie.  A calm spread over me with this realization.  We couldn't go anywhere.  There was no timetables to follow, no schedules to keep, no worrying about one Christmas running into another Christmas.  No dashing about the city from one place to another (although the reality of it is that we've spread Christmas out nicely over the past few years so there is no real dashing anywhere...but somehow the panicky feeling has never left me). 

And I loved it.  And the kids loved it.

Although the kids loved it for very different reasons.  And I truely hope that when they look back on their favorite Christmases, they remember this one because of the snow (according to the weather people, Oklahomans have only woken up to snow on the ground on Christmas morning 6 times in the past 106 years).  It was their white Christmas.

The sun came out full force that Christmas morning, which made the snow all the more beautiful.  We opened up Santa presents and other presents bright and early. 

Side note here...and an ironic one too...the one year, I repeat, the one year I go bonkers about the materialistic crap these kids get and stick to my vow to only get them a couple presents instead of more because "hey, they've got the grandparents, and aunts and uncles and quite frankly, that's plenty"...yeah, the one year I stick to the few presents idea is the one Christmas we get snowed in and can't get to the grandparents.  And you know what?  I think the kids would agree that the snow was the best present of all.

My adult neighbor texted me at 9am to challenge the kids to a snowman competition.  They were already out there as were the neighbor kids.  It was in and out all day long.  Cold fingers and cold toes. 

And it was the best Christmas.

Twas the Day Before Christmas

I woke up to the wind slamming little tiny ice pellets into our bedroom windows, which face north.  And not a gentle "tap-tap-tap."  It was machine gunfire.  Daisy and I stretch and got up.  I went to let her out back and when I opened up that door, which faces north, that dog door just blew straight up and didn't go back down.

The dog was not amused.  I ended up having to take her to the front where the wind wasn't a direct blast.

That should have been a sign of weather to come.  But this is Oklahoma and the weather doesn't follow signage or directions of any kind. 

But the ice pellets turned to flakes and for the whole of Christmas Eve, it got whiter and whiter. 

The dog thoroughly enjoyed the snow.  As you can see...

Little black dog with white spots!

Paul enjoyed it for moments at a time.  He kept running back to the front porch where the wind gusts wouldn't slam the snow/ice into his face.

It wasn't so much that there was snow/ice falling...in fact, there was NO snow/ice falling.  Snow/ice was blowing horizontal at 40 miles per hour.  It made for some good face making.

I included this picture to point out something.  It was cold.  24 degrees is nothing if the sun is out and the wind isn't blowing snow/ice into your face at 40 miles per hour.  It may appear that my daughter isn't suitably dressed here, but let me explain.  She had 2 pair of pajama flannels under her yellow jeans (which is why they're not buttoned, because they are skinny jeans to begin with and not meant to be stuffed with extra layers - I encouraged her to layer up with my bigger size jeans in the future), three shirts under that hoodie, gloves and her lumberjack hat on.  She was probably fairly warm for a bit.

The joy of snowballs.  Paul was being trained in the art.

Now this picture made the cut because it was taken in sequence with the one above and the ones below.  In the other pics, you can see the car in the background.  But for a moment when those 40 mph winds actually gust up a bit more and stir up the snow, it was a true whiteout.

I like the shades.  That's my boy.

The kids went in and out several times that day, braving the weather.  Uncle Jason drove over and didn't get to leave until late the next morning.  Highways were closed, people were stranded and our favorite line out of the evening news (aside from how quickly they dubbed this "Christmas Blizzard '09") was "if you get stranded, just go befriend someone and get out of the cold...knock on doors, befriend people."  Okay, I know it's Oklahoma and we are a fairly friendly bunch (ask anyone), but I doubt very many people are opening up their homes to perfect strangers on Christmas Eve.  That's just asking to be on Dateline's Unsolved Crimes. 

Gross but Funny

Rachel made Andy sanitize his hands with Purell tonight before he could hug her goodnight.


Why?


Because when I told him to hug her goodnight, he had his hands down the front of his pants.  Checking to make sure his package was still there, I'm assuming.  And Rachel stared at him for a moment and just as he pulled those hands out and started toward her for the hug, she shrieks that there is no way he is hugging her until he washes his hands.


Apparently, Rachel doesn't realize that his hands are in his pants often enough that she's probably been hugged with "package hands" before.  Lots before.


She handed him the Purell.



Andy dutifully Purelled his hands and they hugged goodnight.  She turned and walked away and he promptly slid his hand down the back of his pants to dig at his hiney.  

And then chased her down.  He didn't get her with hiney hands but "gross, now my doorknob has your butt all over it!"


Ah, yes, these are my spawn.

The Seven Foods of Highly Effective First Graders

Rachel opened up the freezer a few days ago and exclaimed "Why do we have so many Eggos in here?"

"You didn't hear about the Eggo shortage in America?"  Silly question on my part, because even if she wasn't up on her current events involving Eggo factories, she must have heard me ranting about this for the past few weeks.  Ever since I noticed I couldn't find Eggos in any store in the metro area.

And in case you hadn't heard, two of the waffle factories down in Atlanta had flooded, causing them to shut down production of the Eggo.  Causing the Great Waffle Shortage '09, which I'm certain has triggered other global catastrophes as well.

Don't snicker.  You think I jest, but ask my family, I most certainly am not joking about the Eggo crisis.

See, when your first grader only eats 7 things in the entire world and one of those things disappears from the grocery shelves, it is cause for concern at the highest level.

At first, I thought "okay, we'll survive.  We'll get through this together as a family."  And WalMart considerately stocked their freezers with the Great Value waffles, with a note on the doors sincerly apologizing for the Eggo shortage.

Great Value waffles are NOT the same as Eggo.  They look like Eggos.  But they are not Eggos.  Let me make that clear.  Even the toddler rejected the imposters.  It may be a great value (and actually, it's not always a "great" value, but maybe a "ten cent" value) but great value doesn't always translate into good tasting.

Then I discovered another brand, called Van's.  Organic waffles, shaped just like Eggos too.  I tried to slip one by Andy.  He took a couple bites.  "Um mom, these taste awful.  Are these MY waffles?"

No, son, they're not.  And initial reports from the Eggo big wigs say that your waffles won't be available until June possibly.  Dern bureaucrats.  But they did say they would do their best to make sure what was produced was equally distributed among the states. 

Do you know that I honestly considered calling up Homeland and asking them to call me when their shipment came in, regardless of the time of day?

Basically, about a week ago, I spotted a few boxes of Eggos in one store and I grabbed them.  And then I found a couple more boxes somewhere else.  I want you to know, that as selfish of a human being that I am and even with the maternal instincts all revved up, I did not take all the boxes I found.  Let me repeat that...I left some Eggos in the freezer section of the stores for other families to enjoy.

Because surely Andy's not the only weird eater in this world.  Huh.

Anywhoo, a Christmas miracle has happened today!  I was at Walmart and wheeled by to see if they had a box of regular ol' Eggos and lo and behold, it was stuffed full of yellow, honest to goodness, Eggo waffles.  Plain ones, blueberry ones and chocolate chip ones. 

It may be a bit early to declare this, but I'm going out on a limb to say the Great Waffle Shortage '09 is over, or at least through the crucial part.

Yes, I hear you.  What are the seven things he eats? And these are in no specific ranking.

1.  Eggos, plain.
2.  Toast, wheat and butter.
3.  Scrambled eggs (but don't call them scrambled)
4. Chicken nuggets (we have added chicken strips to the mix...edgy, I know)
5. Fish sticks
6. French fries (only if they are Ore Ida Crispers)
7. Nutri Grain bars (blueberry and strawberry only)
8.  Cheez Its
9. Oreos
10. Popsicles
11.  Orange sherbet or vanilla ice cream

I don't normally count numbers 8-11 because the nutritional value is a bit low there.  So there you have it.  The seven foods of highly effective first graders.

The Party He Won't Forget (I hope)

It's a Pokemon party!

My Andrew turned seven last month and for some odd reason, I felt that this was the year that he needed a way cool birthday party (I seem to recall feeling all nostalgic when Rachel turned seven too).

So, what's a Pokemon party, I hear you asking?

Pokemon are little Japanese creations - "pocket monsters" - and the show revolves around some kids who catch them all and train the little critters to battle.  Please don't ask me to explain much more than that because I honestly just don't get it (probably in the same way my parents didn't understand the Smurfs).  Anyhoo, the rage has been to collect and trade Pokemon cards (think baseball cards, only Japanese animation money makers), so I made the birthday invitations look like a Pokemon card (thank you Rachel for finding me the website to do this nonsense). 

Then I went and ordered 83 little creatures off of eBay, so that the kids could "catch them all" at the party.  Look at these tiny things and you really can't argue that they're kind of cute.  That yellow one in the center?  He's called a Pikachu and he is actually quite adorable.  Unfortunately, my order didn't make it from Hong Kong in time for the party, so the night before, Kevin and I went barging into a local seller's house to fill our immediate Poke-needs (the seller was overly gracious and probably thought we were somewhat crazy, but hey.).


And how do you catch these little creatures?  Well, with a Pokeball, of course.

I was forced to make my own Pokeballs by painting plastic balls and sadly, they didn't hold up in the clutches of 17 kiddos.  Live and learn...next time, I'll plan better...wait, next time?  Ha! 


So 17 kids invaded my home and about that time, I turned the festivities over to Rachel and Kathryn, who dressed up like the villans on the show, Team Rocket, who always try to steal other people's Pokemon instead of just catching their own like everybody else has to do - stinkin' cheaters.

And these two girls did a fabulous job of running the show.  First they ran over to the park near our house and hid all those itsy bitsy Pokemon and then came back to gather the kids.

They herded them over to the park, where the kids searched high and low for inanimate objects about an inch tall....it wasn't a small park either.  And if a kid found a Pokemon, he had to make sure that Team Rocket didn't catch them and steal their Pokemon.  I think Rachel and Kathryn enjoyed this part a little too much.

But they made sure that every kid has at least 2 to take home with them - by sitting those kids down and stealing from the ones with a lot and giving to the ones with none or one.  Very Robin Hood.

And although this had nothing to do with Pokemon, the trampoline was a huge hit, especially when we threw in balloons for them to jump on and pop.

More or less, the whole party was chaotic and a bit on the loony side.  But one of the kids has already asked me if we can do it again next year for Andy's birthday.  I'll take that as a compliment, but I don't think Andy's getting another extravagant party for quite some time.

War of the Leaves

The leaves have begun falling in our neighborhood. Actually, only the leaves off my lone tree in the front yard and they are still green, albeit a pale yellowish green.


The middle-sized kids in the neighborhood spotted the first opportunity to play autumn games - leaf pile jumping!

So they diligently began raking the leaves into a pile. There was the usual arguments of this age group - "I don't have a rake," and "They won't share the rakes," and "My rake isn't as good as theirs," and of course, at least one "He hit me with the rake!" That last one came when the toddlers attempted their hands at the rakes and well, let's just say Paul doesn't have a lot of raking under his belt to fully understand the concept of proper rake handling.


And as is par for the course, the minor arguments overtook the fun of the afternoon when they escalated to who got to jump in the pile. The neighbor boy jumped in and then they scooped the pile up. Then my son jumped in and again, they scooped up the pile up. The neighbor girl, who is quite the organizational queen, determined that she wanted ALL of the leaves in the yard into the pile before she jumped.


Andrew jumped in again. And the neighbor girl told him to get out, because it was her turn (and yes, it was her turn). Andrew said something along the lines of "No" or "Too bad" or "I can do what I want" and the neighbor girl lost her patience with him and said something to the effect of "Then I'm not playing with you again."


And the neighbor boy, brother to the neighbor girl, left with his sister because his allegience is with her, despite the fact that she is a girl.

And Andy cried. And we sat down on the porch and talked about it. And since he wouldn't not stop crying, I sent him to his room until he could calmly talk with me.

I sat down at the kitchen table and looked out the window. And just started laughing. Because the neighbor kids had pulled a large Rubbermaid-type tote over to our yard and were confiscating the leaves.

They filled it up and dragged it to their yard. And I have to say, I had no qualms with it and, in fact, was impressed with their line of thinking.

Finally, Andrew came out of his room and we talked again. And I followed him over to the neighbor's house to apologize to the girl. The kids had gone inside momentarily, so we walked up to the door. And don't think for a moment that he didn't notice the pile of leaves in their yard.

He apologized, she said it was fine, he asked them to come out and play. They declined (and for good reason, I might add...teach the kid a lesson about behavior and consequences). I think he said something about taking the leaves back to our yard, and again, they declined.

So he stomped out of the door, whining about how they wouldn't help him.

I looked at him and told him his choice: Option A, go inside for the evening or Option B, get the leaves himself.


He was in their yard alone, filling the tote with the leaves as I walked into my house.

Then the neighbor kids returned to their yard. I couldn't hear the words but my Hollywood mind filled in the blanks.

"Hey, kid what do you think you're doing?"

"These are my leaves and I'm taking them back."


""Posession is 9/10 of the law in this county and these leaves are sitting on our property. You'd be wise to remove your hiney beyond our property line or else there might be some serious consequences."

"You had no right to steal my leaves. I'm taking them back."

"Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that? This is our tote and don't be thinking that you're going to use it for your unsavory motives."


And they dumped the leaves out.

Whereupon, Andrew came running back in tears. And whereupon, I lost my cool with everyone within 10 feet and found my own dern rake and started yelling about how there were still plenty of flippin' leaves in our yard for him to rake up and jump in.

"But I want THOSE leaves!"

"Gah! Stop it. Look around the yard! I will rake up the dern leaves for you right now! You can knock it off right now or you can go inside!" And to make my point crystal clear, I grabbed a branch of our tree and shook it violently, prompting several more leaves to fall off.

"See?"

"I'll help you, Kristin," came the voice of the neighbor girl. And she started raking too. See, as much as she wants to hold her own in the War of the Leaves, someone raised her to be a good person and she can't stand injustice - the injustice of the parent of the blubbering neighbor boy having to rake up leaves because she and her brother, um, confiscated the original pile. Basically, she's a good girl at heart although it wouldn't suprise me in the least to find out that she was helping me so that they could keep the original pile. It doesn't matter, I like her a lot.

I handed the rake to Andrew and went inside. They raked silently side by side for a few minutes and then she headed across the street to her yard.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the neighborhood as the two piles of leaves and their respective owners stayed separated by the street.

And then darkness fell across the land and all went inside to their respective homes.

And the leaves let out a sigh of relief.

Ah, the smell of fall...and sports

Soccer is here!





















I just love watching these kids scramble around a soccer field. You can always tell that they KNOW what they're supposed to do, but actually carrying out it out is a whole other arena.














The thing is, during practice, it's just the 12 of them. And they all take turns kicking the ball into the net, dribbling the ball down the field (listen to this soccer mom drop the terminology), and passing the ball.














I mean, these 12 kids spend 5 days a week together in a Catholic school environment, where they are taught to share, be nice, no shoving, take turns and so forth. And then they're turned loose on the soccer field where the parents are yelling "Go get the ball! Go! Get it now!" And even though I've heard NO parent actually say outloud "shove that kid out of the way and kick some butt," it's all over the telepathic wavebands.

And I do think the kiddos know that the soccer rules are different but they're just not quite sure how to switch to Aggressive Sports Mode.















Especially when they are supposed to aggressivly pursue this "1st grader" in the green jersey who is clearly not in the same genetic arena as them.

An Excerpt from Napoleon's Mental Diary

"Mom just doesn't get it. I mean, really. When I wake up, after a hard night of trying to sleep in the same room as my brother - which, by the way, is NOT the same as sleeping in their room with them - I need time and space to wake up.

Doesn't she know that I need to watch one WHOLE tv show before getting ready for school? I mean, it's not like a big deal or anything. One show. It's always been this way. Except that it used to be Tigger and Pooh and now it's Spongebob.

So when she wakes me up a whole 2 minutes after Spongebob has started, the day is simply ruined. I might as well stay home from school because, let's face it, it's shot. There is simply no way I can function when things aren't right.

I knew she wouldn't let me stay home. I tried to tell her my stomach was painfully hurting and all I got was a 'your stomach ALWAYS hurts.' And she rolled her eyes at me. It's like she didn't believe me.

So, then, if I missed 2 minutes of Spongebob because SOMEONE didn't get me up in time, then I was going to watch the next episode to make up for it. Because probably if I got a little more Spongebob in, the day might be recovered.

BUT SHE WOULDN'T LET ME. She actually yelled at me to get dressed. I tried to explain to her that Spongebob was still on but she claimed that it was the new episode (okay, it was, but still) and it was time to get dressed. And then she rambled on about how we do the exact same thing everyday and I should know that 7am meant time to get ready for school.

But we DON'T do the same thing everyday. She woke me up two minutes late today. Doesn't she get that? It's not the same everyday. I mean, really. Uh, people? Don't try to tell me that something's the same when it's not. I'm not dumb you know.

And do you know what else? I think she did it on purpose too. Because I heard her saying something about 'messing with his routine' and 'shaking up his world' and 'teaching him to adapt to new situations.'

Pffft."

Wild Kingdom

In the wild, a smaller animal typically follows the lead of the stronger, more dominant sibling. Navigating through the terrain can be dangerous for young ones on their own and it is essential for siblings to stay close together.

Here we see two brothers, having temporarily escaped the watchful eye of their mother, bounding away from the safety of their burrow.

Common with most youth, the brothers do not pause to assess their surroundings before heading out into the open. They are only concerned with the here and now and satisfying their basic instincts to run free and play.

Because the water hole beckons and the young ones cannot resist.

As the older one crouches in preparation for a skilled and graceful dive into the cool water, he is caught off guard by his younger sibling.

Playful wrestling ensues.

At last they harken to the incessant scolding of their mother that playtime is over and it is time to resume their education in the wild. For she knows, all too well, that survival in the world requires much more than the simple skills learned in a waterhole.

Ah yes, education and school. It was a fabulous summer, though.