Surprise!

Introducing baby boy Lonsberry, due in April.

What, this is a shock to you? Well, put yourself in August and imagine how I felt. Believe me, I thought I was done. I was making "got them all almost to school" plans. I am close to being out of the diaper business with Robbie. I sleep through most nights.

I tell you, though, if you ever find yourself unexpectedly pregnant, it is best to be in the company of your best friend. Mine's name is Janis, and she lives in Virginia. It's good to have someone hold your hand and then take care of your kids while you cry for an hour and stare slackjawed at a positive pregnancy test.

You might gather that I wasn't really excited about having a baby. This poor fellow just came at a bad time for me -- I felt done with my three kids, Bob lost a job, huge loss of income, I was thinking of going back to work, etc., etc., etc. But, babies are a blessing, a miracle, a gift from God, right? Is there really a bad time for life? Really?

After I accepted that, I just knew she would be perfect. Bob assured me that princesses rarely come in pairs, so I was excited to see what other kind of girl I could have other than Princess Eliza. I went for my ultrasound yesterday just praying that she would be healthy. She, however, (who would have been Clara Marie-Lousie) was not to be. Instead, to Ellie's shock and dismay, she was he, boy #3 for me, boy #4 and child #8 for Bob). Ultimately, I left thanking God that he was healthy, and trying to convince Ellie that getting to choose a paint color for her own room was a cool thing.

I'm ashamed to say I was disappointed at first -- mostly because I had named her (lame move) and had let Ellie talk me into looking at all her baby clothes, which are sweet and pretty and look almost new. After two boys, most of my boy clothes are stained or have holes in them. BBLonsberry will get a lot of new threads considering his position in the clothing chain. :) But it's fine. It is what it is: A baby boy due in April.

Don't even get me started on choosing a name for this child. Bob's suggestion frequently include the word "Canisteo" as the middle name, and I swear he threw out the options "Elmer" and "Clyde" today. Oh. My.

Halloween 2010

Ok, I'm having some camera issues. As in my battery died and I haven't purchased a new one. And Bob's little camera died. And his big camera is a pain in the neck to haul around for quick shots. Thus, I have almost no real pictures of my kids this Halloween. This one from Bob's cell phone may honestly be the best shot I have. :( Ellie wanted to be a rainbow horse. By this point during trick-or-treating, she'd shoved off the hood of her sweatshirt (which features a colorful mane) and well, her hair is not as groomed as I'd prefer. But she glued the gems on and thought she looked marvelous. You can't see her cool felt mane, tail or the "hooves" over her hands and feet, but she was a happy "sparkly, princess rainbow horse."

Jack wanted to be Thomas Edison. I'm not joking. Why Edison? As an antidote to Jack's tendency to give up after he fails once, I started joking with him about light bulbs and Edison's famous comment that he didn't fail 10,000 times, he just found 9,999 ways not to make a light bulb (or something like that.) My point was never give up. Jack ate it up. What you can't see here is the part of his hat that is a white balloon. Basically, he wore a suit with a name tag that read, "Thomas A. Edison, Inventor," and the light bulb hat. Kids were completely mystified as to what superhero he was. Adults tended to nearly double over in laughter. Next year, he wants to be grass. Or Leonardo Da Vinci. (Thank you, Magic Tree House series...)

Robbie...poor, poor Robbie. I had grand plans to make him Mickey Mouse. However, life intervened and one day, he found Jack's old train dress-up stuff and well, he's hardly taken it off since. So, if you asked him what he was for Halloween, he'd say, "choo choo man." It worked. They got candy. I'm glad Halloween: The Season is over.

I'm already dreading what I'm going to have to come up with for Mr. Da Vinci next year.

Hello, God. Are you there?

Jack, not wanting to go to bed: "Mom, why do bats get to be nocturnal?"
Mom, too tired to be serious and just wants the kids to go to bed: "Well, that's a good question to ask God someday, honey."
Jack, exasperated: "Uh, Mom, that's not even possible. God can't get a text message. He doesn't even have a phone!"

Oooookay, clearly we need to talk more about WHY we are praying three or more times a day. I mean, I thought I'd made it clear, but obviously...well, clearly I haven't.

Me and Eve

I wish I could say I found this uplifting bit myself, but I confess, my friend Emily sent me this with a note that read, "I thought you might like this sentiment." I read it, re-read it, mulled it over and decided it was the most brilliant thing I've read in a while. Eve chose to be a mother, to know good and evil and hardship and trial over Eden. Would I make a different choice for an easier life, one where my kids didn't scream at each other through dinner or get sick or argue with me or...or... I suppose I'm with Eve on this one.

That is a lovely thought after a long day, isn't it? Check out other inspirational thoughts at Hopefully Mormon.

President Updoor

Tonight, before bed, Jack looks at Bob and I and says, "Mom and Dad, you know about President Updoor, right?" "Updoor?" we said. He nodded sincerely, "Yeah, I like President Updoor."

Ohhhh....you mean Uchtdorf, as in Dieter Uchtdorf, second counselor in the presidency of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints? Yeah, Jack, your parents dig him, too. Here's a taste of Jack's apparent new favorite apostle of the Lord. I love this man.

P.S. I have a lot of things I NEED to blog about. Bear with me. I'm sure I'll get to it. Someday.

Shhhh!

Don't tell Bob.

I cut the boys' hair. Both of them. Clippers, scissors...right there in the living room (vacuum on hand to clean up the mess). Bob is particular about their hair and trusts the clipping only to George, the world's kindest and best Sicilian barber. But George is 30 minutes away and with two boys and a daddy, he gets a bit pricey. Granted, I've made a few horrendous mess-ups on Jack's hair (which George tolerates and shakes his head when fixing), but I'm getting better.

So much better that Bob didn't notice. I'm not going to say anything to him.

And he doesn't read the blog. So, shhhhh.

Kindergarten!

I want to know how the baby on the left became the school boy on the right:




Jack started kindergarten last week. I scarcely believe it's true. It is the biggest cliche in the world, but...wasn't he just born? I tell you, I am sure missing him around here. It's only been, you know, 3 1/2 days of school, but our home and routine just feel different with him gone. The salve to this lonely feeling is seeing him get off the bus each day just electric about how the day went. He has stayed on "green" for good behavior every day. He likes gym class. There is already a girl in his class that he likes (Leah. He has requested a play date. Further, do childhood crushes start this early?) He has requested I do not pack green beans for him to eat because "everyone" will see and it is so embarrassing. (I'm sad that vegetables are embarrassing.) Finally, when, Mom, does he get to eat cafeteria lunch? (If by "lunch" they mean the rotating mess of junk food they presume children will only eat, then, uh, maybe once a month.)


He never went to preschool, has never been gone for home for such a stretch of time (8 a.m. - 3 p.m.), yet he is an absolute natural at school. His response so far to "How was school today?" has been, "Awesome. Totally awesome." If I'm shipping my baby off for someone else to teach for seven hours, I can't ask for much more than awesome.

While I'm at it, when did these two Mount Morris Central School Students grow from 4 months and 12 years old to being a kindergartner and a Senior?

(I swear Jack was thrilled when the picture on the right was taken. It was on his first day of school and we were going on another building tour. When he saw Sophie in the computer lab, much of his aprehension vanished. He waved her every "I Love You" and "Thumbs Up" sign he could muster. I think just knowing someone he loves is in the same building every day did wonders for his nerves. The picture just doesn't reflect his true joy.)

Good luck, this year Sophie and Jack!

Potatoes and Apples and Flowers and Ice Cream and Kids

I'm having one of those months.

I am just not dealing as well as I'd like, emotionally, with the loss of 2/3 of our income. Bob is looking for other work to make some of it up (anyone need a middle-aged, white male, award-winning columnist and radio show host for anything, let me know...) but finding a second job in a time frame that leaves at least 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. open is a challenge. So, if anyone has loss-of-income tips that don't include saving for a rainy day (a debt-reduction plan half completed, slashed tires, new tires, a few other emergencies, a necessary vacation took care of that...), I'm open to coping techniques. I find that I'm not as up for the challenge as I thought I'd be. The feeling of not being in a position to really help is discouraging. The idea of giving up being home with my children is mentally debilitating (plus, I haven't been able to find a job that would allow me to afford to put Robbie and Ellie in daycare. Sheeze...) All in all, losing a job when you have a family -- I suppose in any situation -- simply sucks.

But in the midst of that, I had today. Today, we went to our country land (which I hope we can afford to keep) and we had a picnic and we shot a BB gun at a cardboard target. The kids love to shoot and run up to mark the spot where they hit. We hiked up into the woods and played and enjoyed ourselves. And for some reason, Robbie thought it was the funniest thing in the world to yell, "Hi, Bob!" to his dad over and over. We tried to grow a garden out there this year, but the ground was way to clay-ish. Almost NOTHING grew -- except potatoes. I wish we had just planted potatoes out there. Digging into the ground and watching the bounty come to the top of the earth, watching little hands pluck red and yellow potatoes out and squeal happily as if they'd found gold was priceless -- and convenient as I was out of potatoes and we eat them a lot. And oh my! The ground stinks, but the worms and nightcrawlers love it and my kids love to play with worms, worms, worms!!

When we came home, Ellie came outside with me to "help" me rake up loose apples, talking my ears off. We gingerly tested the new apples from our loaded Red Delicious tree to see if they are ready to pick. I'd say one more week and we'll be saucing! I ran out of homemade applesauce about a month ago (50 quarts was not enough...) and I'm chomping at the bit to make some more. Since we switched to homemade last year, my children refuse to eat the stuff from the store. I suppose that should make me feel good. Well, one more week or so and we are back in action.

I love flowers. My grandmother, Mary Lou, the one who essentially raised me, had a green thumb for flowers. You see many of her favorites in the things I plant. In fact, she gave me the irises that bloom in April and May. I've been splitting and packing them from house to house for more than 10 years. So, today, Ellie was chattering about all our pretty "roses," so I sat her down to tell her the proper names. I couldn't help flash back to being a little girl myself, pestering my grandmother to learn the name of this pretty thing and that pretty thing. Couldn't help but think of her patience as I would pick her pretties to bring in the house even though she preferred them outside. I remember twisting the world "dahlia" over and over in my mouth, thinking it sounded very exotic for our little town. Even in picking apples, I thought of my grandmother. She had an apricot tree that was something of a miracle in the high Great Basin desert. Naturally, the best apricots were at the top. Naturally, being tall, young and agile, I was sent up the tree to get the very best before the blasted birds -- whom she loved in every situation except when they ate her fruit. And then I can hear her in my mind giggling at me, then laughing and saying, "I wish you could see yourself." And I growled at her because I was picking them for her! How could she laugh at me? Apricots haven't tasted the same since. Ellie munched her apple happily. And at least she figured out that the roses are on the side, the dahlias and petunias and mums and marigolds are up front with some shallow-rooted sunflowers leaning a little too far to the right. Good-bye lilies and gladiolas and day lilies. See you next year tulips and pansies and irises. Keep spreading out little hens and chicks. I like your cheerful ground cover. I need to get a few more late summer things to keep the bloom up. And if I could just have a wild yellow rose bush, my grandmother would all but be there in the yard with Ellie. Except they get as big as a house in a desert. I can't imagine how one would grow here. I miss her lots. Flowers are a way to remember. And they won't yell at me to pull myself together. She would have. I certainly could call her now, sob my worries into her ears if she hadn't been gone from this fair earth for eight long years. And she would probably say something like, "Whining isn't going to do you any good." Practical. Loving. Sigh. I've got flowers, but I miss her.

And then we wasted a precious $11 to go to Bob's Dugout for one last hurrah to summer, a little more soft serve swirl and uber large grasshopper pie/black raspberry mix for Bob. Because even though it's all going downhill, ice cream -- even expensive ice cream -- makes the world feel better. And Jack starts kindergarten and we need to get serious about going to bed early. I swore that would happen last week, and yeah, right. There is always one more chance to jump on the trampoline, one more run up the sidewalk with Ben. One more pick-up soccer game in the neighbor's back-yard with ten children of various ages -- pre-teen girls bossing the universe and a couple two-year old's obliviously running wild with a whole pile of kids in the middle. Sometimes, it's too hard to stop the fun for sleep. Sometimes I watch them and am loathe to stop the play that helps build their brains. But sleep eventually calls. And I need to get serious about it. Tomorrow. The day before school starts. Sigh.

So, it's rough. And life's like that, I suppose. And in the midst of it, you have potatoes and apples and flowers and ice cream. And kids. And I guess that will have to be enough.

Unless you know of anyone needing a top-notch conservative radio talk show host. Why, then I'm all ears...

A very, very big blessing

I've had one of those days where it's hard not to see God's hand in how it all played out. I've been grateful all afternoon that despite they day being inconvenient, being a big change to my planned week, being much more expensive than planned, at the end of it, we're all alive and healthy.

Let me back up a couple days. You might remember that I had Lasik surgery on my eyes. When they do that surgery, the slice a flap in the cornea before the laser the eye back to good vision then put the flap back over the eye. Over time, that flap heals. Tuesday evening, in a freak accident, Ellie threw her arms around me for a piggy back ride at the same time that I moved my head and her little finger nail ended up slicing across the front of my eye. As it turns out, one of the two, sharpest, non-medical instruments is a child's finger nail. She could have punched me in the eye and it would not have hurt that corneal flap, which was still healing from the surgery. But she caught it in just such a way that it wrinkled the flap, causing me some pain, discomfort and slightly blurred vision in my right eye. The eye docs at Robbins Laser Site got me right in, put a therapeutic contact on my eye and told me to come back Friday so they could see how the eye was healing.

This isn't the end of the world except this doctor is an hour from my house. And I have no family around to leave my children with to run such errands. And I had planned to go pick $1 a pound blueberries on Wednesday, which I moved to Friday, which I've now moved to Monday and will most likely have to move again. And we're going to North Carolina next week for Bob's family reunion so I have a million things to do. A three-to-four-hour detour to Webster every couple days with my kids just wasn't sounding fun.

So, today, I left my kids with my neighbors. I've mentioned them before. They are pretty incredible. Our kids play great, and I know in their home there is nothing that my children wouldn't be exposed to that I wouldn't approve of. I trust the care of my children to them entirely. After my eye appointment today, I was gassing the car up when I had a feeling that I really needed to have our van looked at before we left next week. I chalked this feeling up to a mental reminder of everything I needed done, grabbed my cell phone and called Patrick Pontiac in Henrietta -- a car dealership Bob does ads for and whose service department is absolutely excellent. I asked if they could look at the van next week. They told me they were completely booked, but asked if I could get it in right then. Ugh, I thought, but sure. I called Josh and Kelly to ask if it were ok that I would be a little late so I could get an oil change and have the van looked over. Naturally, they figure the chances were pretty good that my kids would be involved in some sort of game of Star Wars make-believe at their house whether I was there or not. So, I took the van and Josh kept the kids so Kelly could go run some errands.

I bought a book to occupy myself ("The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud" of which I finished 220 of 270 pages) and waited and waited and waited. Finally, the service guy came and told me one of my front tires had a puncture wound (not knifed like Bob's, more like a run-in with a curb that I don't remember) and they were surprised it hadn't blown out. The other front tire was cracked. The van had no other major issues that I wasn't aware of, but the tires were a big deal. I knew I probably needed new ones soon, but wow, that bad? I felt grateful that I'd felt the need to stop and that they could work me in.

Probably around the same time, my little guy decided for whatever reason to pop a rock in his mouth. Josh heard him coughing, and wondering why he would suddenly be coughing after a day of perfect health, checked on him to find him choking. Josh picked him up, beat on his back and got the rock out. When I got home, Josh told me about it right away, apologizing that he didn't watch him better and that they didn't usually have little things like that on the floor. He didn't want the kids to tell me that he'd beaten on Robbie, but he had hit his back to get the rock out. All I could think of was how grateful I was he was with Josh, a state trooper with a tour each of Iraq and Afghanistan under his belt. Josh knows how to handle emergencies. All he could think of was that I'd be upset that the boy choked, and all I could think of was how grateful I was that Robbie was with someone who could handle the emergency and save him. If not a rock at the Bacon's, it could have been a Lego at my house. I wonder if I would have been as effective in saving Robbie's life.

So, I kind of think God had his hand in my day and I'm grateful. I sincerely think the Holy Spirit whispered to me to check right away into getting the van looked at. I don't think the people really had space in their schedule to fit the van in, but they did anyway. And I got to sit and read a book. And my son was with someone who could protect him today in a way that maybe his own mother couldn't have. I gave my kids extra big hugs tonight. And they hugged me back -- safe, warm, wiggly, alive little bodies who God protected today.

I can't help but be very, very grateful for those very, very big blessings.

A glimpse at my day

Thought one hour of solid exercise would carry me through the day with uplifted spirits.

And then:

Ellie: "You are a bad mother to me!"

Me: You kids get off the top of that thing (little tykes climbing toy that daddy brought home) before someone falls and gets hurt!" (insert crying because no one can get down on their own.)

Ellie: "Mommy, I'm hungry!"
Mom: I just need to get a few more of these weeds. Here, eat a bean...wait, (Robbie!) stop picking those peppers!"

Ellie: "Mommy, why are you sleeping? (to her mother, sitting in the middle of a pile of clothes to be folded with her head lolled back, sound asleep...)

Ellie: "Mommy, please, please, please can we get the Swan Lake dance music?" ($6 on iTunes will buy you 21 of Tchaikovsky's ballet suites from Swan Lake, Sleeping Beauty and the Nutcracker, btw...)

Eleven kids at soccer practice all want to play on offense. I have the largest team, an even split between older kids learning to work together and little kids who like to sit and pick clover. We can play a mix of six kids at a time.
"Nate. Nate. Nate. Nate. Nate. NATE! go to the goal!" "Stephen. Stephen. Stephen. Stephen. Stephen. Stephen. STEPHEN! go to the goal!" !#@$Q@#%@#$ (insert 9 other names, repeat.)

Jack becomes the chief whiner, mostly because he comes home with me.
"Mom, that was the most boring practice ever. I just want to kick the ball." Later, "Mom, you want to know what the problem is with defense? You just aren't in on the action." I swear if I hadn't heard him say it, I wouldn't have believed a 5-year-old was capable of coming up with that thought.

Bob took Jack fishing before soccer. They brought home a fish in a bucket, which the kittens, true to stereotype, tried to eat:

Bob: Amanda, where did you guys put that fish?
Amanda: In the back room on top of the washer.
Bob: Um, the fish isn't in the bucket.
Amanda: Could it have jumped out?
Bob: I guess so.
(we look, then suddenly...)
Amanda: Oh my gosh! Look, there he is! (points to the floor, far away from said bucket).
Bob, reaches down and picks up the dead fish, rinses him off and puts him in a baggie: "Poor guy. I'm going to put him in the fridge. Show this to Jack. Tell Jack he jumped and we can't eat him."

Then the kittens knocked my cucumbers (future pickles) onto the floor, busting two open. Growl.

The dishes are piled, I need to balance my checkbook. And finish folding the laundry. And go grocery shopping. Yet here I am.

Goodnight, folks!

Overheard:

Jack and Ellie have done yard work with me for the day and have asked to watch a movie. If they can agree on one, sure, I said.

Overheard:

Ellie: Jack, I don't like Star Wars.
Jack: But Ellie, look, there's a princess. Princess Leia, see?

Ah, the art of manipulation at work...

Legos and Kittens and Potties, oh my!

Jack has been saving money FOREVER. Ever since we informed him that he was old enough to work and buy his own things. No more asking and receiving, just plain, hard work and reward. OK, I'm not sure bringing in the mail every day counts as hard work, but it is a chore that I appreciate getting done and at 10 cents a day per chore, he works hard at it. At that rate, you can tell he really had to WORK for this. I think Legos are ridiculously expensive, but I suspect that isn't the point. He wanted this. He made a goal, he worked and worked and worked (huge thanks to Chris and Rhonda Elliott who hired him one day to do some work they really didn't need help with and then paid him $10 in silver dollar coins. It was just one of the kindest and best things to do and was a huge boost to his savings plan!). Today, we went and picked up his set. He is counting down the hours until we sit down and put the X-wing fighter together. I know, you're all excited that I get to do fun stuff like this.

We got a kitten! I have resisted the pleas around my house for a cat for years. If you scroll back in these posts to last fall, you will recall our failed few weeks with a very cute stray. But then Robbie came along and he is OBSESSED with cats. He LOVES them. There aren't enough cap letters in the alphabet to get that point across. So, for his birthday that is coming up, Jack suggested we get him a kitten. So when free, litter trained, 12-week-old kittens showed up on Freecycle, we went to look. I went to pick up a short-haired gray female. But Kit, as the kids named him, waltzed in looking for them as they looked for kittens and wouldn't leave them alone. I knew because Kit was seeking the kids' attention that he was the cat for us. We picked up his sister, who we call Daisy, for Aubrey. I wasn't wrong. They're great kittens (thus far, we are only four days in) and Kit is wildly tolerant of Robbie hauling him around. I probably don't need one more thing to take care of, but I think Kit and Daisy are pretty charming. The only member of the family who isn't thrilled is Jimmy. It isn't that he doesn't like the kittens; he does. They don't like him and giving them attention has ratcheted up his already needy-for-attention demeanor. I have a very hard time explaining to the dog that I have always been more a cat person than a dog person and I'm sorry that I like petting them better. Poor guy.

Finally, and I don't have a picture of this one, but Robbie pooped in the potty today. I can say that on this blog because, a) it's my quasi journal and b) you're my friends. I want to remember this in case it never happens again. After a long day that included a trip to Niagara Falls, the above trip to Toys R Us for the Great Lego Purchase, we came home for a quick bath. As I was getting the kids in their PJs (well, Robbie, the other two wrangle themselves) he was holding his oh you know, and acting like he had to go potty. So, I asked him. He enthusiastically said yes and we ran to the bathroom with Jack and Ellie hot on our tails. He sat there like the king of the world, did his business and then clapped for himself. Naturally, we joined in.

I swear if he potty trains himself he will become my favorite child.

EYE feel great

Honestly, I still can't believe it. I 'm sitting here with no vision correction anything and I can see just fine. I can see the fancy clock says it's 20 degrees inside (huh, ought to fix that ...). I can see the words on the spines of the books. Not that this is new. As a wearer of contacts and glasses for more than 20 years, I'm accustomed to being able to see things. Just, you know, not all the time. Just, you know, not without carrying around contact solution and spare contacts and glasses just in case all of the above fails.

This is amazing.

The process was painless. Hannah drove up with me to be my chauffeur home. (I will politely not discuss how lost she got on the way home. :) At the office, they want to give you a Valium to help you relax, but I refused. I mean, I have had three children by natural childbirth and have stuck my fingers in my eyes daily for 22 years. Seriously, how bad could it be? Having gone through it, I can't fathom why people NEED the Valium. I laid on a table, they taped my eyelashes down (which you can see in Hannah's cell phone photo from the waiting room), pushed a thing on to my eye that sucked made a vacuum seal and made me blind for a moment, cut a flap in my eye with a laser, pulled the flap back, lasered it, put the flap back. Switch eyes. Repeat. Honestly, it took 15 minutes, and I didn't feel a thing except the suction during the cutting. Crazy how easy this was.

I am sort of stunned by technology. I knew I was going for this procedure. I know lots of people who've had it done. I just don't know when it will sink in that I can see without help. I have worn my glasses for the last month and pretty much hated it. One night, though, my mind lost in deep thought, I found myself with my contact cases out, filled up, digging around in my eye upset that I couldn't get my contact out. It took a few minutes before it dawned on me that I would be shedding this habit. I felt silly (fortunately, no one was looking) and have since taken all the eye care stuff out of the medicine cabinet (to prevent a relapse).

I'm feeling pretty darn grateful for this tonight. If Bob didn't work in radio, there is no way I would have had this opportunity. Nor would I have this awesome eye gear that I get to wear to bed for a week:

Roller coaster life...

I know I need to spend more time on this post, but it's been one of those weeks, you know? As we pulled out of the drive for church this morning, Bob said, "It sure has been a long week since the tires were slashed." Indeed.

Week kick off: Tires slashed on Bob's truck, all four. Bob, ever the optimist, was glad the vandals did it on a Sunday when he didn't have to go to work. We also paid the truck off the same day we got it new tires and a detail job. So, in a way, it was like getting a new truck. And it needed new tires on the front anyhow. All's well that ends well, right? I'm thinking of putting a security camera in...

Bob gets fired: On Wednesday, after 10 years on the air at KNRS in Salt Lake City, Bob was fired. They said bad ratings. He was number one or two for years until this new People Meter ratings technology came out at the end of last year. To get ready for this, Bob's station manager switched the station from and AM dial to an FM dial losing 1/4 of the station listeners two months before the new technology came out. Talk Radio everywhere they rolled it out took a ratings dive since it doesn't measure Internet listening, etc. Everything I'd read and heard was that people were cautioning making program changes until the kinks were ironed out of the technology. Be that as it may, Bob's bonehead boss kept his job and Bob and Lee, who produced Bob's show, were fired. Oh, and it's an election year: Bob only gets picketed or fired in election years. Look it up. That day, he happened to record a promo for the next day's show which would feature a certain Senate candidate and its link to a nuclear energy company, a company which happened to be the radio group's largest sponsor. The promo never ran. Bob was fired that evening. With six weeks left on his contract. With no warning. Politics suck. But, I guess that's the game, and we're just praying really hard that something good comes of it.

Plumbing: It's been broken forever. I've had three different plumbers look at or fix the existing problems and they told me some of the issues would cost hundreds of dollars to fix. So, I saved up. Ready, I decided to try a new plumber, a local guy with an ad in our local shopper. He came and looked at everything and said he could keep the bill around $150. I almost fired him for giving me too low a quote. But, he came and did the work in less than an hour and charged me...wait for it...$55. Seriously, either all the other guys were rip off artist or my new friend Hans doesn't know how to rip people off for plumbing work. All I know is I'm having him back. For the first time in two years, I have no leaks or clogs to contend with. That is worth smiling over in an otherwise dismal week.

To celebrate our new destitute status, we took our kids to a farewell Chinese buffet dinner and a movie. I LOVED Toy Story 3. Just a great, great family movie. And then we went the next day and picked strawberries. The kids better hope that holds them, because we are about to see just how thrifty and frugal Mom can get with less than half an income.

Unless something works out. Which we hope it will. Accepting prayers at any rate. I have pictures, but I'm too tired to post them. :)

Eyes to see

I am nearsighted. Have been for a long time, in glasses since I was 12 and someone noticed it. How was I supposed to know everything across the school gym wasn't supposed to be blurry?

I still remember my first day in glasses. Part of this is embarrassing, but since we're all friends here, I'll spill. Three things I remember: My mother talked me into a pair with pink-red rims. Someone called them "Sally Jesse Raphael" glasses if that helps. Despite the poor choice of frames, I remember walking around a corner in a grocery store and being amazed that the whole aisle seemed to be RIGHT THERE. It actually startled me. This is the embarrassing part. We were in "town" ie., Reno, for my eye appointment which conveniently coincided with my first concert: New Kids on the Block. As a delusional 12 or 13-year-old, I was mortified that Jonathan Knight might see me in glasses and my life would be ruined. Fortunately, we were all spared.

After being hit in the head while playing sports and losing my glass lenses multiple times, I got contacts. I had no such thing as insurance, but I did have an aunt who had a hysterectomy and needed help cleaning her home and taking care of her kids. In return, she took me to the eye doctor her brother went to and wallah, contacts. (I love you forever for that, Jeri...) The land of peripheral vision was opened to me.

Marvelous things, contacts. But Friday, I went in for a Lasik appointment. I wasn't really thinking of doing Lasik, it's just that, well, Bob does radio and sometimes people want to advertise on the station but sometimes they don't want to pay, they want to trade their services for him to talk up their business. Dr. Robbins already did his eyes and everyone else in the family with poor vision. As I am no longer pregnant or nursing, I am the last family candidate on deck for the free surgery. (Maybe we can someday branch out to friends as payment, who knows...)

Anyway, I ignored the ad guys for months and decided the only way they'd leave me alone is if I went to the appointment with Robbins Laser Site. After 2.5 hours of pretty intense eye exams (I've never had my eye photoed so many times) I was totally convinced that this is the greatest thing since...well, ever. I get my new eyes June 14.

Don't ruin it for me. I'm excited. I threw my contacts away (sorry, Jeri...). I'm wearing GLASSES (small, wire rimmed, thank you very much) for 8 whole days. The last two without make up. I may as well join a nerd convention. This would be a horrible blow if my friend Erica weren't going through the same thing this week. We may go to a glass-wearers-only movie watching convention where no one can see our specs in the dark.

I jest. I just don't like to wear my glasses. I liked my contacts. Except the part where they'd hurt or get something stuck in them or tear in inconvenient locations or when I forgot to take them out and slept in them. Other than that, I loved them.

But I think I'm going to love correction-free vision even more.

Ellie quote

Again, because my side bar is malfunctioning, a funny from Ellie at lunch:

"Mommy, Jack likes Transformers. He's a Lego boy.

"I'm a princess girl. And a Barbie Girl. And a doll house girl. And a jump rope girl. And a supergirl. And a blankie girl."

Well, she certainly nailed it.

May-velous

I have seriously had the best month. I've been so darn busy, but in reflecting on it today (after another GREAT day) I realized this has just been a month of doing, and hustle and contentment and, and...well, the list goes on. Let me share some of what made this month positively May-velous:

I love these people here. This picture was taken today, Memorial Day, in Colonel Bill's Creek in Canisteo, NY -- Bob's hometown. This is a hard day for me to be away from home. Growing up, we spent every Memorial Day cleaning graves at the local cemetery, remembering our relatives and honoring our local veterans -- those alive and in the cemetery. After I left home, Memorial Day was the one holiday I made sure I was home. Today, we started the day at 90 degrees with Mount Morris' small Memorial Day parade and a ceremony honoring Veterans that, despite the heat, was actually very appropriate and honored local veterans. We spent some time with the older girls, laughing, visiting and eating some wickedly good cupcakes Ms. Hannah made. She's getting good at this baking bit. Then, Bob, the kids and myself hopped in the van and drove down to Canisteo, picking up some flowers along the way to plant at his family graves. In lieu of taking care of my people, I settle for visiting his. We are cemetery people, and today, we really gave Jack a good cemetery etiquette indoctrination. He was such a good boy, asking questions about his late relatives and putting tiny geranium buds on each one. Then, we hit the creek. This is one of our favorite things to do in Canisteo, play where daddy did as a boy, look for little fossils in rocks. Cool off! But, the weather turned cool and rainy and we left, had dinner and drove to our country land to admire all the hard work Bob has done out there through the winter and Spring. If everything lives, we will flat out have a little farm out there. He's done so good, I'm very proud of all he's accomplished. It was just the best day.

But wait, there's more.



My May-velous month was actually kicked off by a sort-of big thing. I flew to California (alone!) to meet some old college girlfriends to run a half marathon. I stayed with one of my dearest friends, Jodi, and catching up with her was just priceless. I haven't seen her since her oldest was under 2, and now, he's 8 with two little sisters! I just loved my visit with them, and, oh yeah, I ran a half marathon. I was slow, they ran out of water cups at mile 8, blah, blah. I finished. It was great to finish that goal, but I was ready to do something for exercise that didn't eat up an hour a day running. None of us look great in these cell-phone pictures, but come on, we were up early ready to run! In the group shot, from me clock-wise, Rebecca (Reno) Workman, Teresa (Peterson) Hunsaker and Jodi (Scott) Keele. Love those ladies. And in the case of my solo shot, that was moments before I finished with crack sideline staff Wayne Keele snapping the perfect awful shot of someone who was thirsty, tired and ready to rest. After the half, though, my high school best friend, Teresa Bower, picked me up for the afternoon and I walked around the zoo with Teresa, her little sister, Lindy and Lindy's two little girls. It was probably good that I walked and loosened my muscles up even though I was pretty slow company. Teresa and I have the best low-maintenance friendship. I love her, she loves me and if we talk once a year, we're cool with that. All said, I couldn't have asked for a better trip for my first long weekend away from my family. Bob and the children survived without me, even if Ellie's hair was looking, uh, shabby when I got home.

But wait, there's more.

Jack turned 5 late this Winter. I can't believe it. It has been such a joy to watch him grow, see his mind just expand and his personality and sense of self become more evident. This is the time of year, though, when we start getting ready for kindergarten. Earlier this month, our whole family went to Kindergarten registration night and toured the school, then the next week, we dropped Jack off for Kindergarten screening. This was A Big Deal. Up early, all three kids fed, dressed, out the door and at the school before 8:30 a.m. If you know me, you will know this is A Big Deal. I saw while at Jodi's the power of early bedtimes and wake-ups and the nice, non-stressful mornings getting to school that all that brings. So, after I got home from Calif., I've made a point to be in bed before midnight (again, A Big Deal) and up between 6 a.m. and 7 a.m. for exercise. It has made a huge difference in how I feel daily and I think, come school time, will help us have stress-free mornings getting Jack off to school. Thanks to my friend, Joel Mike, who with his wife, Erica, brought their girls to screening the same day armed with a camera. Photojournalist Joel shot these pictures as I left Jackie with Mary Regatuso, the reading teacher who is also my around the corner neighbor. Small towns are great. He did great, by the way. No worries on him doing just fine in Kindergarten.

But wait, there's more.

Well, I already wrote about the school board election. Yep, starting July 1, I am an elected official. The second one in our household. Thank goodness the MM Village Board moved their meetings so as not to conflict with the school meetings or Bob and I would have to get a babysitter. We don't live in a perfect little town, but we figure once you've been elected to something, you're invested. Mount Morris, NY: Home Sweet Home (away from home...I still view myself as a displaced Nevadan, but this is as good as anything, I suppose.)

But wait, there's more.

Bob and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. He's also had a big month. He rode a horse for real for the first time in his adult life. (Scared him to death.) He hiked BIG mountains in Utah (as a New Yorker used to flat hikes or rolling hills, this was A Big Deal.) He also ran a trail marathon from Mount Morris to Portagville. Bob runs at least one marathon a year, but this was A Big Deal. Consensus among the marathon runners there (some of them who ran Boston and do this regularly) was that the Sehgahunda Marathon was the toughest they'd ever run. Basically, take your average marathon time and add two to three hours extra, they said. It was, apparently, brutal. Here, Bob finishes with Aubrey and Jack lending their encouragement. He joked that he was at his slowest marathon time with eight miles left. We got really worried about him after six hours. But, he showed up and all is well. He was sore and tired, but not too tired for he and Jack to take our new bees out to our country land!

But wait, there's more.



We didn't have much of a summer last year, but it's in full swing now. I'm grateful to live in an area where water isn't exactly in short supply, where my kids can play in water and mud as long as I'm willing to support the water bill, where gardens blossom without much effort. And I'm grateful that in 2008, I insisted we get air conditioning. Ahhhh.....

Speaking of gardens, I've also been working with our new, local community garden as an occasional volunteer, and I edited a community book project that I wish I could have done more work to than just salvaging the grammar. THAT's a whole story for another day.


I have found myself very content and happy this month as I've worked hard, played with my kids, made some routine changes that have made a big difference and made a point to remind myself daily that I can be happy in whatever situation in which I find myself. I'm not certain if June will be able to compare to May, but seriously, life has just been, well, marvelous!

Holy Cow!

I won! I am now a member of the Mount Morris Central School District School Board. Well, I will be as of July 1. Technically, I got the second highest number of votes after a lady named Ann Hunt (who has lived here forever and garnered what I will call the "old people vote"). But me, the outsider, was #2. My neighbor's best friend who lives around the corner from me was #3. I felt badly for the people who lost, but it was an election. Some win, some lose.

I'm stunned but excited! There are some huge decisions coming up during my three-year term, and I honestly think I can make a difference at least in the district's ability to communicate. So, I will keep writing school board stuff over on the other blog and find other ways to let people know what's going on.

I have to say around here, our local "shopper," essentially an advertising publication, turned out to be the best way of reaching voters. While Ann cornered the "been here forever" vote, Tad and I had ads in the shopper weekly. Those shopper spaces don't come cheap, but I think it was worth every penny.

In fact, I hope I can talk the board into finding a bit of money somewhere to put a weekly school update in there. While we can do a lot with computers, the older people in town ALL read the shopper for their information. To not have an update monthly, if not weekly, is nuts.

Ah, but you don't care about that. You just want to read about my kids (Ellie is obsessed with painting nails. Jack is obsessed with Star Wars Legos. Robbie is full of life and is learning to talk. His favorite words are "bye" "Ok" and anyone's name. He calls Ellie "Wawa" and Sophie is "fufa.") Or maybe you want to hear about me (Just ran a half-marathon. I should post some pictures, huh?) Or maybe you want to hear about Bob (Just got back from Utah. Rode a horse for real for the first time ever. Scared the crap out of him. Planning two back-to-back marathons at the end of the month. Never sleeps. Works all the time.)

Well, next time then...

When sore trials come upon you...

I'm not a huge NieNie follower, but I do read occasionally. If you aren't familiar with her story, take a look. I do not know that I would have gone through her trial with as much grace and faith as she's had.

funny quote:

I'd prefer to put this on the edge where I typically post quotes, but Blogger won't let me. Keeps freezing the whole computer every time I open that section. :( That's a problem for Google help. in the meantime:

Scene: Driving home from church activity listening to "A to Z Mysteries."
Jack: Mom, do doctors get called out from home at night?
Me: Sure, if there's an emergency.
Jack: Well then I don't want to be a doctor. I don't like getting called up at night. I'd fall asleep in the car.

Good to know these things early on.

(A More Real) Love Story

This is seriously the funniest thing I've seen since the Old Spice commercial. I just can't stop laughing at how true it is!

Paper dolls

I have some pretty talented friends. My friend Hannah Stevenson is an artist and mother of three girls who just started a blog focused on the joys of raising girls. Also, she just completed a line of paper dolls that are amazing! She can even custom create a doll in the image of your little girl. I love Hannah, but where was my fantastic friend in January when I was actually looking for some paper dolls for Ellie? No matter, I'm thinking for her 3.5, I will get her the paper dolls I couldn't find the first time...thanks to Hannah and Lily & Thistle!

gone crazy?

Amanda Lonsberry, school board candidate.
No, seriously, it's true.
I'm #7 on the ballot. Seven people running for three spots. My chances are slim, but I figure why not? I gathered my petition the weekend before it was due because only one person had turned in a petition to serve with three spots to fill. That didn't seem logical with all the issues facing the district I live in, including massive cuts to state and federal funding, declining property tax values, a newly resigned superintendent AND consideration of a consolidating districts. Good people NEED to be at the helm of this ship.
Crazy times, and my kids will be in this school.
They're the ones who will be affected long-term by the decisions this school board makes.
So, I'm running.
The way far back black sheep, the lady not from here, the lady married to the radio guy.
And I managed to draw #7, which everyone else sees as a sign of doom. Because people are only smart enough to vote for the candidates in the 1, 2 & 3 position, apparently.
Do they not know that I am from Nevada, home of lucky 7s, born in '77, played 7 as my Keno number forever (don't ask)?
I see 7 as a good omen...if I believed in such things. :)
So, you can follow my school board thoughts over at the blog I started for that little venture. Who knows if anyone will look at it, but I figured I needed to cover my bases. So, www.mmschoolboarder.wordpress.com.
Thoughts, opinions, ideas that would make a good school board member are welcome.

Jeska

Have you ever realized that you didn't know you missed someone until they walked through your door?

That's how I felt about seeing my friend, Jessica Stowell, this weekend. Actually, seeing her made me miss all the friends I left behind in Washington when I got married in 2004.

I've been blessed through the years with many wonderful friends. In fact, I told my husband this evening that many of my friendships among the deepest joys of my life. Forgive me as I indulge a walk down memory lane to a great time I had six years ago. Literally, to the day, exactly, six years ago.

In 2002, I left my home state (Home Means Nevada) for Washington. Imagine my shock upon moving to the "Evergreen State" to find the massive Columbia River lined with rock and shrubs. Nary a natural born tree anywhere nearby. Orchards, grape vines, hops, yes. Trees started growing in the Cascade foothills somewhere west of the Yakima Valley and before the great volcano peaks of Mts. Rainier, Adams and Helens.

I loved it there. I met some amazing people there. Moving there helped me heal some personal wounds and work on improving myself in so many ways. I worked for a newspaper in a bureau office. Can you imagine! A bureau and I LOVED it. I loved being able to wander in to the main office when necessary and pretend phone trouble when I was too busy to deal with my hoovering boss. ("Shoot Craig, I've got a, a, uh, an interview in two minutes. I'll call you later...") I taught primary and came to love every six-year-old child in my huge ward. I was part of the local musical theater company. I prepared for and ran a marathon there under the cheering and guidance of wonderful, caring friends -- the gang at work Coach Frank Purdy, Mark Morey, Ross Courtney, Phil Ferilitto, the Cook, Yoakum, Potter & Stoddard families who took me in as one of their own. And, of course, by virtue of being the two single girls in the family ward, Jessica Hileman.

We were very different. Jess: shy. Amanda: outgoing. Jess: organized. Amanda: uh, not. Jess: Methodical. Amanda: uh, not. Jess: cautious. Amanda: carefree. Jess: white socks. Amanda: anything with color. But we got along and I coerced her into becoming a hiker. We learned that just because something has the name "Huckleberry or Blueberry" in its destination title, that didn't exactly mean you could find such a berry there. We learned to hate the Little Black and White mosquito. We cursed the people who drove to the top of the mountain it took us four hours to hike up. Apparently, although I do not remember this, I gave her a pair of argyle socks of which she now has 50 pairs. I now wear almost only white. Ironic, yes, but it's just easier.

And one day when I casually said, "I think I want to go to Switzerland. Or Mexico", she actually looked up ticket costs. And by jove, we ended up in Mexico six years ago yesterday. I'd traveled she had not. She was an over prepared nervous wreck who packed (and I mean PLANNED for any event) the week before we left. I was not at all stressed until I had to pack the night before we left. We flew to Cancun, stayed the night at a hostel and caught a bus for Merida, the inland capital of the Yucatan. Can I just say we had the most amazing time? From the crazy hostel, to rip-off hammock salesmen to swimming in underground cenotes (sorry, those pictures didn't really turn out, but that was CRAZY!) to climbing ancient Mayan temples, to lounging on the beach on a tiny island it was just a trip to remember. Recently, Jessica asked if I could email her a picture of her bag of wonders. This trip was one of the last captured on my old film camera so, naturally, I had to go grab the album to scan the picture in. I marveled at my skinny post-marathon, carefree self. What the heck was that girl doing just wandering around Mexico, standing at the edge of sacrificial centoes, inhaling pollo yucateca and banana liquados as if she had nothing to worry about? Didn't she know family life was looming and this time would end?

She had no freaking idea. Neither did Jessica, who succumbed to the lure of marriage a year later. So, I scanned in her picture, then scanned in a few more. And now for your viewing pleasure, and because it pleases my memory, I present a glimpse of our tour of Mayan ruins and a Caribbean beach, 2004:

The hammock salesman in Merida (fun Spanish-style city) was a former migrant worker turned hammock hawker. Total scam artist. We recognized it and bought hammocks from him anyway. We ignored his attempts to sell us copies of the "Hammocksutra." The rest of the photos were taken at Uxmal, sort of like the famous Chichen Itza, but older, more remote, fewer tourists. I love listening to Mayan words. It's a whispery language "Uxmal" looks harsh but in Mayan, "x" sounds like a soft "sh" to think "ooshmall." Just sounds nice. And indeed, it was wonderful. We went to church in Merida and the people convinced us to take a trip to this old hacienda to swim in the cenotes. A side note: There are no rivers in the Yucatan. All the water runs underground from hole to hole: cenotes. Some are open like the massive sacrificial one at Chichen Itza or like the ones outside Merida, underground caverns accessible by, uh, we'll call them ladders through holes in the cavern ceilings. Or, you could just jump in or climb down the tree roots that dropped 30 feet looking for water. It was so stinking fun: Take a mini bus (read, minivan crammed with people) to this little town. Pay a boy a dollar to pedal you in a rickshaw thing to the hacienda. Pay a man with a rail cart and a skinny horse to haul you to the cenotes. Climb down, swim. Jess is afraid of water, and dark small spaces. I did good to get her down the ladders. Even for me, though, swimming in that dark water was pretty freaky. Then, return. Pray you have your own toilet paper, because no one in town did. Except Jessica the Prepared. :)




You can't visit the Yucatan without visiting the well-preserved Chichen Itza. Here, Jess and I sit on top the Temple of the Sun (which took forever to climb up), take the classic, "Oooh, look there's air below our feet!" shot, goof off and pose for what I call "Tall girl in a little door" or "The Mayans wouldn't have known what to do with me." It would be unfair of me to mention the bus ride from Merida back to Validolid: Jessica the Prepared felt queasy. Naturally, she had packed Pepto Bismol, a substance to which she had an unknown allergy. Mexican buses have TVs for which there is no option but to watch the show. Jessica got sick and vomited for two hours straight. And we got to watch the horrid, oh so horrid "Hypercube" the whole way. And then her bag leaked. Poor thing. And my most miserable two hours ever prior to 2007's JFK airport incident (seven hours stuck on a runway with a 2-year-old and a 5-month-old. I will never fly through JFK again.)

We were not the Cancun party types, so four two days to relax before heading home we went to Isla Mujeres, an island a few miles off shore from Cancun five miles long by oh, one mile wide. A spit of sand encircled by the crystal clear waters of the Caribbean. Oh. My. I fell in love with beach life there. We biked around the island. Jessica is, as above stated, afraid of water, so I snorkeled alone (I've been obsessed with snorkeling in Belize ever since...some day...) There was this ridiculous zoo in the middle of the island. The picture above of Jessica with the spider monkey was taken moments before the creature wrapped its tail around her legs, grabbed at her clothes and tried to pull her into the cage. I stood there stupefied thinking, "Monkey attack? Nope, nothing in my life tool box has ever prepared me to deal with this..." Fortunately, she got away.

And six years later, she and her husband Aaron, got on a plane again. To visit her brother in NYC. To go to Washington DC for a a couple days. And to come see me on a very, very fast trip.

I was honored to see them. Sad to see them go so quickly. And now I want more people to come visit. With three kids, its hard to get out much. But I find that real contact, hugging, reconnecting with words, seeing the people of your life fill in your new space, that's a salve the soul that I didn't know I needed.

So, here we were today -- heavier, travely weary, wind blown -- at the Smith Farm in Palmyra, NY where our church was started:

Oh what a night...

As there is opposition in all things on the Earth (good vs. evil, light vs. dark, you get the picture), it seems fair to blog about those days that just don't go as planned.

Bob works a lot. And serves on the village board. And is now the local scout master. We rarely see him for more than a few moments at a time. So, Friday is kind of our night. We either eat in, watch a movie, play games or we go have Chinese food and wander through the Tractor Supply store in Geneseo. Lame, we know, but that's how we roll. The point is it is our one night that doesn't usually get interrupted.

Which makes the events of this evening all the more galling.

I found a free picnic table on Freecycle. Freecycle is a great place to find things (I've found two pianos for people looking for them. And a couch. And a freezer.) More importantly for someone like me, it is a place to get rid of things without having to throw them in a landfill or drive to the Salvation Army. We just bought some land out in Allegany County and there is a tree with shade that would suit a picnic table quite well. Especially a free one that aside from needing some paint, the lady assured me, was in sound condition.

So the Friday plan: Mix it up. Drive to Pavilion. Pick up free picnic table. Drive to Warsaw. Try a different Chinese buffet. TWO friends told me the Ho Ho Chinese Buffet was fantastic. Tammy even rolled her eyes heavenward when she said it.

Excited, Bob and I both limited our eating for the day to save calories for Chinese. Perhaps we should have listened to Ellie who cried the entire way, "I don't want to go to new Chinese! I don't want to go to new Chinese!" times 40 minutes.

In Pavilion, in the snow, we trekked over to our new picnic table, which came apart in every place I tried to pick it up. I wanted to leave it there, and call it good. Bob's courtesy chip went off, and he insisted we take it. Why? It is BROKEN in three places...and not the kind you can fix easily. The wood rot kind of broken. Sigh. Waste of energy and gas money.

But dinner was on the horizon. I tried to cheer the kids up by telling them how good Ms. Tammy and Ms. Rachel said it was. It had the words "Ho Ho" in it. That had to be fun, right?

Actually, it's short for ho-ho-horrible. Honestly, it was terrible. The kids actually like Chinese food but they couldn't stomach it. Bob and I who have a far greater tolerance for weird both ate a mediocre buffet plate, bemoaning that we didn't just scrap this plan and go to Geneseo.

And it cost us $10 more than a night in Geneseo. Not to mention the consolation french fries from McDonalds since the kids couldn't eat any of that rotten food...and I couldn't begrudge them the treat. Not after all they'd endured. :)

To add a insult to injury, Here was my fortune...from a very tasteless, plastic-y fortune cookie:

To recap: We drove more than 50 miles through three counties wasting gas in two vehicles to pay twice as much as necessary for a crappy dinner to come home with a busted picnic table that we will likely just turn into bonfire fodder and wasted three hours doing it all.

Indeed, I am truly smart.

Easter recap

Hunting:

Dyeing:

Finding:

I know there doesn't look like a lot of loving on Jesus in these pictures. It's hard to take a photo of a child mangling the words "Gethsemane" and "resurrection." Rest assured, at our house, we believe.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16

Uh-oh

Note to self: your children are small. April Fool's Day is something they will understand when they're older. Meatloaf and mashed potato cupcakes, even with the potato frosting dyed blue and purple, was probably a bad idea.
Especially for Jack who thought he was really getting a cupcake for dinner. His mom was so cool!
And then...oh my...Ellie discovered that it wasn't frosting.
And then...oh my...the crying started.
Sigh.
Next year I think I'll stick with the kids' favorite joke of the day: "Mommy! There's a monster behind you! April Fool's!"
As long as he's not eating meatloaf, I'm cool with that.

Better luck next year

Bleh. We were so close. SO CLOSE. After two cross country trips, six airports, numerous trips to the disease badlands of the Children's Museum and the local libraries (two of them!), grocery shopping that included mouths on handles (ugh), and just five days short of the officials start of Spring, we broke our streak.

If the kids had made it to Saturday, we would have made the entire Winter without an illness. Robbie did get a runny nose for a while, but that hardly counts. No H1N1, no regular flu (and they didn't even get vaccinated...) no colds. No strep throat, no ear infections, no pink eye. Nothing.

Until Monday. Then Jack threw up. Tuesday, everyone was fine and dandy. We even had friends over (most likely a mistake).

Today, Ellie said to me first thing,"Mommy, my tummy hurts." She then asked for French toast. I knew she wouldn't keep it down, but I didn't want to dissuade her. I made her what she asked for. It came up half an hour later. And the fun lasted all day. Then Jack started up again after a good 48 hours of feeling fine.

I shouldn't complain. I have friends who spent back-to-back weeks with sick kids on antibiotics, the works. I have had an easy winter.

But I've been cleaning vomit up all day.

And boy, is it no fun. For them especially.

I just hope Robbie has a miracle and the Lord lets this bug bypass him.

Because I suspect his warnings and aim wouldn't be very good.

Princess hair

I love to braid. It's no grand secret that I have been waiting for Ellie to sprout hair so I can wrestle her down and do all manner of beautiful braids.

Sadly, Ellie has my hair instead of her dad's: on the side of thin, super fine, curly half the time, whispy the rest. I can certainly braid it, but the braids fall out after a few hours. :(

Then I come across this website, www.princesshairstyles.com. And now I'm even more sad that Ellie's hair won't hold a braid (and further that she lacks more than about three minutes patience in the hair torture department. Her ideal hairstyle is a bow or barrette in one side. Done.)

It's probably for the best. I can't decide if the little girl who's head is the featured princess hair enjoys being a guinea pig for princess hair fashion or not. I suspect Ellie would fall into the "not' range. So sad. Check this site out if you have a little girl who would love something fun and different, who likes to have her hair done or if you feel like a child's hair should reflect a holiday: plenty of hearts and shamrocks to be found here! Also, I suspect there are a few semi-formal or prom-ish styles in there, too.

Amazing!

There are two television shows I dearly love and which I try not to miss. One is, naturally, "Lost." (Five episodes in, I almost posted the question on Facebook, "Anyone else wonder what happened to Charles Widemore?" Then he showed up at the end of the episode...ohhhhh "Lost" how you taunt us).

Anyway, my other show of choice is "The Amazing Race." If I could be on a reality show, that would be the one. I love the different types of people they get on the show, and love to see how the stress of travel affects personal relationships.

Their casting is predictable: A few model couples, a few gay/lesbian couples, an older couple, mom and dads and they always cast a pair that just seems unlikely to make it through, most notably a hillbilly couple from Tennessee a couple years ago. I so wanted them to win because, seriously, if anyone could use a million dollars, it would have been them. Alas, they fell short (not first out, though!)

This year, I didn't hold out much hope for The Cowboys, Jet and Cord McCoy when during the first leg of the race they changed all their American dollars to Brazilian reals even though they were flying to Chile. I thought, "Great, they cast the stereotypical dumb cowboys." I am so glad I was wrong!

Jack and I are cheering for these guys all the way. Jack even made a cowboy sign today to wave around during their glory moments. I love that in a game where every other player in every season wears exercise clothes, these guys are racing around the world in their Wranglers, boots, rodeo belt buckles and cowboy hats. Phil even asked them one week if they were comfortable in the belt buckles and one of the brothers said, "My pants would fall off without it." In this week's episode, Jet wouldn't take his hat off to bungee jump. The handlers told him he'd lose his hat. He said, "Nope, we're good." At the end, his jumping partner was amazed that he still had his hat to which Jet replied, "A real cowboy hat never falls off."

They placed first two weeks in a row, slaying the competition last week in, duh, cowboy related tasks in Argentina. They are athletic, polite and good natured. In this week's, episode a few things caught my attention with these Oklahoma boys:

1. Despite never having played soccer in their lives, they suited up and made short work of a soccer goal challenge.
2. At a beer drinking challenge, it looked like they might lose because one of them doesn't drink much and the other "has never had a beer in my life." The cowboys barely survived the beer drinking competition. I love that they fight the stereotype.
3. As they were driving to the pit stop, they saw prostitutes on the side of the road and Jet said, "Cord, we are not in the Bible belt anymore." I just laughed.

So anyway, from casa Lonsberry, go Jet and Cord!

In the meantime, who can I wrangle into getting a passport and trying out with me to be the next year's "mom" team? I've traveled some, I'm passably athletic, I speak functional Spanish which has got to be good in at least a quarter of the known world. Certainly I'm as qualified as the next mom to be on the "mom" team, right?

Five

Jack through the years. Top row: 3rd birthday, two-weeks-old, 2-year-old pictures.

Bottom row: First birthday, fifth birthday, 4-years-old gardening!!

Five is kind of a cool age.

First of all, you're not four.

If someone asks your age, you don't have to waggle or cross any fingers or count. You just hold up your hand with confidence: five fingers, five years.

You can get a library card.

If you follow a regular immunization schedule, you get shots.

Your're old enough for summer soccer in Mount Morris and level 2 swimming lessons in Nunda.

You start kindergarten.

Today, Jack is 5. Five years ago, I entered that unknown land of labor, delivery and parenthood. He was a textbook birth, followed by four months or so of colic. At 1, he would shove a book in my hand and say forcefully, "Read, Mom, read."At 2, he gained a sister, a big-boy bed and let go of his binky. At 3, he planned his birthday party, learned to garden and gained a baby brother. At four, his mind kind of exploded, his curiosity became limitless, he formed his own friendships. It was at four that I really realized for all the creation I did, this boy was not mine.

Certainly, Jack is my son. I made him. But he is his own person on his own little life track. And I am so privileged to be guiding him, cheering him on, hugging him through the hard times, helping him learn to make choices. Poor first-born child. Jack is my test subject, the one who has had to endure all my insanity and learning how to be a Mom. I'm sure his brother and sister appreciate his loving, tolerant nature, because I'm not sure either of them would have endured my craziness like he has. And I am certainly a better mother because of him.

Somehow, he will survive his shots tomorrow (he has been dreading this day for a very long time.) T-minus six months until Jack becomes a school boy. Somehow, I'll survive his move to kindergarten. I will miss him and what a big help he is, but school is kind of the first big step out into the world of becoming your own person. Right now, we are working on reading. He's wanted to learn for a while, so here we are, letter workbooks and phonics and whole words all jumbled into random daily lessons. He is waiting (with waning patience...it's been five days!!) for two books on folding paper airplanes to come in to the library. He is obsessed with legos, particularly little Lego men. It took a lot of effort for me not to put each new Lego set he got for his birthday in a baggie so he could make each different plane or car. Finally, I realized his plan of dumping them into one big bucket and building whatever he wants is not the end of the world. In fact, it's been the beginning of dozens of planes Lego never thought up.

Because that's the great thing about being 5: You're on the cusp of so many of life's great discoveries, from Lego planes to school

I love this kid, my little Jackie, as he calls himself. He is a smart, fun, helpful, happy little boy. His birth five years ago was a dream come true. It made me a mommy. And while that road is certainly not the easy breezy one I'd expected, it has been worth every step. My little Jackie: I can't imagine my life without him in it.

Pajama jeans?

If you know me at all, you know I am opposed to wearing any kind of leisure wear out of the house for anything not exercise (and I mean heavy exertion) related. I detest sweats or pajama pants outside the occasional Sunday afternoon. Too "gave up on life" for me. In fact, I own one pair of yoga pants and one pair of sweats that I wear when I paint. Further, sweats are all too short, but that is a separate complaint.

But, perhaps the Pajama Gram company has solved my problem with the Pajama Jean. Witness the glory here. Are we in or out here? Fashion solution or fashion nightmare? Could I shop and sleep in this?

My luck, they'd be too short anyway. Problem solved. But for anyone reading...who knows. It could make your day.

Be careful what you ask.

Because I wasn't. I was very cavalier. I was looking at my children as I was tucking them into bed, thinking how much I loved them, that I wouldn't trade an awful day with them for a million good days without them. And I asked the dumbest question: "Would you trade me in on a new mommy?"

A) Who in their right mind asks that question and B) who in their right mind would respond with a yes even if they are thinking yes?

An overly honest 3-year-old, that's who.

Jack, my very sweet, very earnest, overly loving, family centric almost 5-year-old immediately said "No! You're the best mommy in the whole world!"

See, this kid understands the point of fishing for compliments.

Ellie, with nearly no hesitation said, "Hmmmm. I'd take Parker's mommy. Parker has lots of dress up clothes and jewelery and when I cry, you scream at me!"

Clarification: Ellie is prone to massive screaming tempter tantrums over the most mild offenses and yes, she does get in trouble for them.

I looked at her and said, "Really, you'd trade me in and go live at Parker's house for better dress up clothes?"
"Yep. I can't wait to go live with my new mommy!"

(Picture now Jack freaking out, insisting that the same mommy and daddy are the most important thing in the world, that he would be lonely if she left. He insisted I tell her she couldn't go. Jack takes these kinds of things very seriously.)

I think I was a little stunned, because I asked her again if she really wanted to move.

She then started to plan what she would put in her suitcase.

It was a dumb dumb dumb question that I should not have asked. It was actually born of a moment of happiness as I pondered how much I loved them -- and the little turkey would trade me in. It shouldn't hurt my feelings, but it did a little.

Bob's take on it is thus: I said something making her think that such a thing was an option. From a position of trust and love, she thought I was making a serious offer. Looking at her friends, she chose her favorite and was playing a game with mommy from a position of trust and love.

Jack is two years older and saw right through it. I wonder who he would have traded me in for?

Oh well. Hopefully she will forget her moving plans by the morning.

Turkey or no, she's my daughter and I'm keeping her.

But I'll work on yelling a little less.