Christmas Measured Very Well

(photo taken with old camera. Will be trying with new camera. These are OLD school colored lights).

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! Mine was everything that my heart desired. On Christmas Eve I had one more gift to buy and grocery shopped for Christmas Eve dinner and our Christmas Day spread. We made Christmas cookies with the cookie cutters and five colors of frosting in piping bags (I desperately need a timer as I forget about the oven and burned a bunch of them). I used Alton Brown’s cookie dough recipe and it was wonderful.

We enjoyed prime rib and mashed potatoes and Brussels sprouts I sautéed with bacon (the boys had canned green beans), and spinach salad. And brownie sundaes for dessert. On Christmas Day morning we have cinnamon rolls and then we have dinner/lunch buffet whenever I get around to it. I call it “party food”. I seriously heard one of my sons tell his Grandma on the phone that I made “party food” for Christmas dinner. I warm up a ham and rolls, microwave mac ‘n cheese, buy a shrimp cocktail ring, make broccoli casserole, crudities, dips, cheese cubes, guacamole and chips and deviled eggs…and we then eat in the family room and watch a new dvd (Night at the Museum 2).

(This is our tree two days before Christmas. It was bare under there since the Sunday after Thanksgiving when it went up. I start wrapping a few days before Christmas. We start with the gifts the brothers buy for each other. Wrap central is in our bedroom and after each gift is wrapped I put it in the hallway and slam the door back closed to do more. The boys carry them down to the tree. The excitement mounts.)

The boys don’t wake up super early anymore on Christmas and when they do they go to their stocking and keep themselves busy (those stockings were overflowing!—why do I always worry that there are not going to be enough stocking stuffers? I could do a post alone on what was in them). The two youngest boys share a room and they both got up at 8:30 a.m. Our second floor has a loft so it is easy to hear them so we got up too. We saw that the Oldest’s stocking was all over the couch so we accusingly asked the other two if they had gone through it but they had not. Surprise, surprise, Oldest had gotten up at 7:30, went through his stocking and then went back to bed. Santa always wraps his presents in red wrap, and he is so crazy busy that sometimes days later a gift is found outside in the bushes after falling out of his sack from the rooftop.

We are lucky that everyone received what they wanted, along with a few surprises.

And there was a surprise for me made on Christmas Eve by a busy elf (Hubs) in his workshop. Remember the boy’s measurements on the wall incident? A couple months ago I asked for a piece of wood – like a 4”x6” painted white so I can start charting the boys’ growth again. This is what he made:

I love the colors. I would never have the patience to paint the never end line of squiggles on each side. This is a piece of molding that has a curve—shaped just perfect for a head to line up and be measured! My new growth chart stick has now been hung in our laundry room, right above the base board (which is 3 inches so the markings are in accordance). He painted a line of every 6 inches, with 36”, 48”, 60”, 72” and 84” marked. The middle of the board has been left white and has no varnish so that I can mark a line with a fine pen with the boys’ initials and the date. I think he should sell these and ship them—don’t you think so? I saw one on the internet that looks like giant ruler and others that have “nursery room” themes, but this looks like his artwork. Oh yeah, he paints too. Here's a close up.

I told several people that on Christmas I like to stay in my pajamas until 3:00 p.m. Well, that didn’t happen. Because I stayed in them ALL day. Well, OK, I did take a walk so I changed out of them for that, but after a shower I was right back in them and my new robe.

Now it’s back to work for a few days and then another 4-day weekend. You are going to celebrate the Blue Moon on 12/31, right? It’s once every 19 years that it falls on New Year’s Eve.

It's Tradition

We started our day yesterday with our 14 year consecutive annual Christmas tradition. We took the boys to the mall to take a picture with Santa. Yes, we do indeed have two middle school sons. I know, we are crazy. But we do have a 3rd grader who still expects this.

Especially our 8th grade son has been asking us for weeks if he really has to go visit Santa, and for exactly how many more years? When they are 16? When they are a senior in high school? I have to say Hubs is pretty adamant that as long as they live with us it will be a tradition. I am on the side of the fence that believes as long as Youngest is in elementary school. This means a couple more years. Will we survive? But what would we have done this year--take only the Youngest son?? Noooo.

To top it off, the oldest son was seriously not happy about not being able to sleep in since we were leaving the house at 8:50. It is our tradition to go and get in line about 30 minutes before Santa arrives, which according to the website was to be 10:00 a.m. As it was I got up at the last possible minute, forgot my camera and saw I only managed to get one earring in.

So we get to the mall and we are one of the first waiting and fortunately there were many big chairs and love seats nearby and we sprawled with the Sunday paper. Then I found out that one son had not brushed his teeth in two days because he had strep throat earlier in the week and the nurse instructed him to get a new toothbrush but I had not yet bought him one. Could you have just not swallowed when you brushed, I asked him. Then I looked at his shoes and he was wearing old ones with a hole when he has new, nice skater shoes. And another was wearing some t-shirt--heck he gets more dressed up for school. And another had tufts of hair sticking up. So I was growling about how I suppose I still need to lay out their clothes for them still for events. Then everyone in line was grumbling because Santa was 30 minutes late. In fact, one little boy had a meltdown and the parents took him home a few minutes before he was to get in Santa's lap. We would have probably let Santa deal with him since Santa was late to arrive.

No one had kids as old as ours. I wonder if Santa was surprised at these big boys when we rounded the corner. But Santa did good and made them laugh right away. They may have been laughing at how Santa put our middle son on his knee. Even though the worker elf lady took about 3 more pictures I liked the real laughing one the best.

Our Santa Picture Day continued with us walking all over the mall looking for last minute gifts and then had lunch out. We went to a hibachi restaurant and had a good time. Later that afternoon, back at home we left the boys alone and went back out to browse around Barnes & Noble. I have been lamenting this year that buying gifts for the boys was much easier when they were younger. BUT I must say it is a huge benefit to be able to step out with Hubs and leave them home alone without paying for a babysitter. We even went out alone Friday night alone to shop at Sports Authority.

But then Sunday night the two older boys had a preteen and teen version of a long day/no nap/meltdown. And they were ugly to each other. They were in the next room from me. I was trying to read blogs and write a post of my own and I heard the two oldest going back and forth and it escalated. It made me really mad and I sent them to their rooms. And then Hubs heard about it and he got really mad and told them that they were grounded for the next few days and we'd have the cleanest house around because they'd be doing tons of chores including how to scrub the floors using a rag and a bucket on their hands and knees.

Later I think my Hubs knew I needed to hear about this as being normal because he told me that when he was their age and had three other brothers they fought a lot. It was what they did and it is what brothers do. Maybe if my Hubs weren't around I would get too involved with who said what to who. I am glad that he can relate to what it is like to have brothers and to remember being a kid with two oldest brothers who were competitive.

Today I went to work and they all stayed home and they did indeed clean the kitchen and dining room floors on their hands and knees, and their bathroom floor too. And maybe it was good timing that today was the day for another one of our traditions and that is to take out the boys individually so that they buy a gift (in the $15-$20 range) for each other. They usually do not spend their own money but today we did ask the older two to bring their wallets and spend their own money. O.K. we said they needed to pay for half of it, and they opened their wallets and did.

I am ready for our other family traditions this week and they include driving around various neighborhoods on the 23rd or 24th to check out outdoor lights and decorations and to make cookie cutter cookies for them to decorate. And our tradition on Christmas Day is for me to stay in my pajamas until 3:00 in the afternoon.

'Tis the Season for Hot Chocolate

I have mentioned here previously that the boys in my house ask about dessert every night. And this time of year they ask about hot chocolate. The temperature outside has gone up and down this past week and this morning it was down near the 30’s.

I called home as usual at 5:00 p.m. as I was getting ready to leave work and talked to Hubs:

Me: I am getting ready to come home.

Hubs: Were you going to stop by the grocery store?

Me: Yes.

Hubs: Can you get orange juice?

Me: Sure

Hubs: Oh, and the boys are asking for Nestle’s Quik to make hot chocolate.

Me: Oh yeah, definitely, they have asked all week for me to get some.

Then I drove to the store wondering why Hubs doesn’t go because he gets off of work earlier than I do. But it is OK because at the store I walked by the meat department and saw many items marked down big time so I stocked up and all the cleaning items we needed that I forgot at Target a few days ago were on sale so I got those too. I even happened to see packets of many-colored buttons for a winter craft for Youngest's winter school party. We're masters of multi-tasking aren't we......

Anyway, back in the car I called home to say I was almost there and to make a request:

Youngest: Hello?

Me: Hi Oldest!

Youngest: No, it’s me.

Me: No way--you sounded so old! Anyway, I am almost home so can you tell Dad to put the Tyson chicken fillets into the oven and start to boil water for the mac n’ cheese.

Youngest: OK. But wait—Mommy—did you get the ‘Quik?

Me: Yes I did.

Youngest: YESsssssssssss!!

I park in the garage and Youngest comes out to help with groceries from my trunk, wanting to carry in the bag that has the Nesquik. Middle was there too help with the groceries. Oldest then comes into the kitchen and asks if I bought the ‘Quik.

I think you get the picture. I’m just glad that it doesn’t take a lot to make these guys happy around here. Oh, and I made everyone leave the kitchen and digest for an hour before I make the hot chocolate. But now it’s time. Who likes marshmallows in theirs?

(How do you make your hot chocolate because I am totally open for any new recipes on this. I heat up milk in a saucepan and pour into mugs that have Quik in them and stir. Youngest puts marshmallows on top).

The Year We Got Away for Christmas

Sixteen years ago my husband and I had been married for several years, were dual-income with no kids, and awfully worn out from many Christmas breaks spent driving umpteen hours to visit both our parental families in separate states on our few days off. In fact Christmas of 1992 was so stressful in between driving through three states to visit one family the 23^rd to 26^th and the other the 27^th to 29^th of December and not spending any time at our first new house--that we vowed the following year to treat ourselves to a getaway. I’m leaving out half of the story but trust me when I say Christmas break was the pits, and back to work we went, you know with the one or two week’s of vacation days off per year.

True to our vow, the following year we made plans for a getaway Christmas alone and made memories we still share all these years later. One family member did not understand and gave us a hard time before Christmas saying it was not a good idea. Another family member thought it was a great plan—that Michele and her Hubs would always have this one year where we did our own thing for Christmas.

We drove to Charleston, SC on 12/20 and stayed three nights at a lodge that had been built in the 1700’s. We had long lunches, explored shops and old houses.

On 12/23 we drove up the coast of South Carolina and into North Carolina. I had found a bed and breakfast in Beaufort, NC (near Ocracoke Island and areas where Blackbeard would hang out). This was before the internet and corresponded with the Inn on the phone to make our arrangements. As we got closer we passed some dilapidated houses, not sure what our bed and breakfast would look like. Hubs was teasing, “OK, what have you signed us up for???” No worries—our B&B was charming with a two-room suite on the upper floor and a gourmet restaurant for dinner on the main level, and as you can imagine we had the whole place to ourselves except for dinnertime.

The family who ran the B&B was a couple in their late 40’s and they had two sons and two daughters between the ages 16 to 24 or so—some home from college. The wife was the gourmet cook and the kids helped out as the waiters and helpers. On Christmas Eve night we were in our room that looked like this:

And we heard this huge family fight downstairs late at night. One son said loudly, “Of course you take his side! I have ALWAYS been the black sheep in this family!” There was shouting and arguing and maybe a sob or two. We were under the covers listening to this and couldn’t help but laugh a little. On Christmas morning we found a bottle of wine from Santa outside our door.

At breakfast the mom apologized and hoped we hadn’t heard too much or that they hadn’t been too loud. Hubs said, “No need to apologize. It was just like being at home!”

In Beaufort we also had some wonderful lunches out, explored many houses and cemeteries from the 1700’s, and browsed in tiny seaside shops decorated for the holidays. We drove back home on 12/26.

A few years later we had our first baby and we stay at our home for Christmas ever since. And every year we reminisce about the time that we needed our special getaway Christmas.

Love Note from a Third Grader

I snapped this picture last night of a love note left for me on the refrigerator. I bought this little message board recently so the boys could jot down when they used up the last of something in the kitchen like ketchup. No notes like that have been written yet, but this reminder note is better than that:




Youngest still calls me "Mommy" (the other two call me Mom).

Don’t Be Blue If You Missed the Full Cold Moon

This month the full moon is on December 2^nd. December is usually considered the month that the winter cold begins to fasten its grip. Where I live in the South it was a nice 59 degrees on November 30^th. By dinnertime it had dropped to 48 degrees. As the calendar changed to December 1^st, it dropped to 33 degrees. Today it is back up in the 50’s. The midwinter full moon takes a high path across the sky because it is opposite to the low Sun. And technically as I write this the Full Cold Moon actually peaked at 2:30 a.m. today. It was cloudy and rainy last night so I missed it. If you did too, don’t be Blue.

Because every 2.8 years or so we get to have another full moon in the same month. I am beyond excited that on this New Year’s Eve we will get to enjoy a Blue Moon. The last Blue Moon was in June, 2007. The next Blue Moon will be in August, 2012. The next time it will happen on New Year’s Eve will be in 19 years. For that year I will be planning a Blue Moon New Year’s Eve Retirement Party for myself and Hubs.

I first gave thought to the Blue Moon in June, 1996. My first child decided it was time to join our world about 10 days earlier than expected, and he chose to arrive during the full moon on a Saturday night. I then learned it was a Blue Moon month (for this hemisphere only because east of Florida that full moon was on July 1^st—pretty wild!) I chose a Blue Moon on his baby announcements and celestial décor was popular then so I decorated with moon and star picture frames galore and wall hangings and stationery and sheets and I went crazy with delight when I found a celestial baby mobile.

And as if having a Blue Moon on this New Year’s Eve isn’t special enough, there will also be a partial lunar eclipse (not visible in the U.S., but still!).

Just thinking about it is putting a kick in my heels and this momentous occasion calls for a stellar celebration: a rockin’ party at the House of Must Be a Full Moon. I wish you all could join because you make me happy when you visit. Make your plans now to watch the full Blue Moon on New Year’s Eve so you don’t have to wait another 19 years! To see when there will be other Blue Moons or if someone you know was born on one click here.

And the Winner is............

I waited until Monday to write the names of those of you who entered my giveaway on pieces of paper, and asked my hard-working middle son to sit in front of the Christmas tree, feel around the bowl and select a winner:


I think it was meant to be! Here is my Hurley T-shirt wearing son who pulled the name of this blogger winner, Elucig, who lives in Colorado, is a teacher, and has twin boys who love the outdoors and have Irish names. Congrats! I will send you an email to find out if you'd like a necklace for you, or the twins!? Oh, and plus she is a coffee fanatic.

We brought my mother-in-law back with us from Florida on Saturday and she left today. I had not one moment's rest since the prior weekend but the good news is that Saturday night we took her with us on our family tradition of picking out the Fraser fir from The Home Depot....and my decorating is done prior to December for the first time in history. Sunday Hubs put up the outside lights and she helped me decorate the tree, the stairway, and the mantle. Plus she and my youngest son decorated the tree we put on the screened porch with its orange and blue ornaments (oh yeah) while I made two chicken pot pies. Then at 9:20 p.m. I was determined to spend two hours on the couch watching a dvd even if it meant going to bed at midnight. Crazy. But that's because a really, really super-special full moon is coming in a day or so. Stay tuned.

Thanks everyone for entering and hope you all enjoyed your holiday weekend.

I'm Thankful We Live Here

I got that panicky feeling during the past weekend and during my lunchtime today that I have lots to do. I still need to clean out my refrigerator, clean the oven and pack for Florida. We've been cleaning for days because when we head back home on Saturday we are bringing back my mother-in-law. I don't think the oven is going to get cleaned. We should be heading to bed soon but Hubs is even doing another load of laundry (the boys wear their jeans once and throw them in the wash--that bugs me). I always get way too little sleep during Thanksgiving. After getting up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow and driving 7 hours there will be a second annual girls night out to see a Twilight movie (what if we put Edwards face on Jacob's body?). Then up early Thursday to walk on the beach and then put together my two appetizers and salad and drive another hour to join a gathering of 18 adults and 7 kids. And then up at 4:30 a.m. on Friday to hit Target and have breakfast out. And then Friday night is another get together at another house with almost all of the same crew. And then up early to drive back home on Saturday.

We are so very lucky and I am grateful for so many things. We are lucky to have jobs, to have our health and to have our home and each other.


We are lucky that our kids can play war games, but not live right in a war torn country.



I feel grateful to be living here in this country.


Have a safe and Happy Thanksgiving!

My First

So what's the occasion? Have I been blogging for a year? Nope. Am I at my 100th post? Are you kidding me? I'll get there sometime next year (I have about 70).

The celebration is that one year ago I first started reading blogs. And all of you have added a lot to my life. Kept my mind busy. Learned lots. Made me laugh, and also made me reflect.

This morning I stopped into Starbucks to get a latte and a muffin for my son's teacher whose birthday was today. I didn't know what she liked but I have read on other blogs how many people are enjoying a pumpkin spice latte. So I bought one for her (and a muffin) and one for me. It was 7:00 a.m. and normally I am not out of the house this early. Normally I have a couple cups of Dunkin Donuts coffee at home starting at 7:30 a.m.

So I get to the school and the teacher was thrilled and Hubs and I had a conf about Youngest son and I sip my latte, and ......wth....Yuck! I did not like it all! I guess I was expecting coffee with a little flavor. Anyway I only drank half of it and then I went back home and made some regular coffee. And felt kind of sick until lunchtime. So I guess I am just not with it. Or maybe it was something to be sipped at night with a good book or chick flick and not at 7:15 a.m. in a little kid chair at a little kid table.

But clearly I am in the minority on this and even though my cup of pumpkin brew got trashed, perhaps it is your treasure. So I want to give a caffeine-addicted reader a $10 gift card to:
But wait, there's more!

I want to make you a necklace. I have this green one that I can give you (I have all of the same materials to make another one):
(how do you like the model here wearing my necklace? I had a photo of myself wearing it from when I posted about this necklace in August but two out of three boys just told me that I didn't look so great in that photo after I asked them).

Or, if green is not your thing I can make you one like it but in a different color.

Or if you have boys I can send you a boy necklace. This was is in brown "natural" colors and my 13 year old wears it sometimes (and I have all the same materials on this one too to make another for you). He's told his friends, "My mom made me this necklace" and they say, "Oh cool". (That is the extent of their conversations. Seriously, you should hear them on the phone -- the calls are over and done with in 5 seconds).
So here's the deal: leave me one comment on this post by Saturday, November 28 (midnight). On Sunday I will draw a name and announce the winner. Tell me in your comment what time on Thursday you'll be eating your Thanksgiving dinner. And at whose home?

P.S. Here I am at age 13--and I loved talking on the phone. My hair wasn't this blonde--it's just the light.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pad

About a year ago I discovered the joys of reading blogs. And a few months after that I started my own. I don’t write in my blog as often as I wish I would and I am working on making that change. But I sure do read. I really, really love to read your blogs. And one thing about me is that I remember just about everything you write.

One of the first blogs I discovered a year ago is Laura from My Life is a Piece of Cake. She makes me laugh about her life in L.A. with her four (I mean 134) kids and her gorgeous cake making skills and her big heart. One day her words can make you laugh and the next, can make you cry.

Anyway, back to my incredible memory. A couple months ago Laura wrote a funny post (click on the blue) about a woman who uses homemade menstrual pads and lots of comments followed. And then a couple of weeks ago she received a (joke) gift in the mail from one of her readers and Laura asked us other readers to guess who sent it and to guess what the gift was (click on the blue for her post). I knew right away who sent it because I’m all stalkerish in my memory-skillz ability of what blogs Laura likes to read. And then it took a couple of tries but I guessed what the gift was.

Her gift was this pretty menstrual pad (but in pink and brown) and Laura listed many possible uses for it (except not to really use it as intended). I told Laura I didn’t need a prize for guessing but that she should send me the pad and we’d call it the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pad. Laura asked her readers if they thought it sounded like a good idea and they did (click on the blue for her post). It will be mailed from woman to woman, perhaps with a journal, and with a place for you to post. But not to use it.

We're making plans for this pad...... So let me know your thoughts and then stay tuned because like Laura wrote -- the pad can be coming to your pad soon.

Daily Desserts

I am powerless in a household of boys who love desserts—just anything sweet—they are not discerning most of the time. They are this way because of Hubs, I’m sure. He has to have something sweet to eat at night. It seems whenever we go out to eat, before we get home he mentions how he needs some dessert. I think that 98% of the time after eating out we don’t go home until we’ve walked through the grocery store for cookies or ice cream (see, it does not have to be special—just dessert).

Let’s back up to how we were each raised. When I was growing up there was not dessert every night of the week, nor was it served as part of the meal. If we were having a regular dinner or a special holiday meal, we would clear away the dishes and then leave the dining area and relax for a long time before venturing back to get dessert. Or—and this is a key detail—if there was a box of cookies it would last. Or if there was pudding my brother and I would know which ramekin was ours—it would remain in the fridge for a couple days till we ate our own.

On the other hand my Hubs is the youngest of 6 kids. Dessert was made and brought out EVERY night, immediately after dinner. And everyone would eat it then and there on top of dinner, because if you waited till later it would be gone. I have been a daughter-in-law for 22 years and this still amazes me. No sooner is the last bite of dinner swallowed and my mother-in-law brings out more dishes and silverware and three different varieties of dessert to the table. I am always asked what I want for dessert and I always reply, “I am too stuffed now but maybe later, thanks!” And I’ll chat of course and help clean of course but I just can’t enjoy dessert until I have digested dinner.

Have I mentioned I was really slim when I got married? There I’d go to the grocery store and buy a week’s worth of groceries including dessert stuff. And Hubs would proceed to dig into it, within an hour back from the store, completely clashing with my concept of making food last a week.

And eventually we had our three boys and like clones they are dessert lovers too, asking about it just about every night. Many times I say good-naturedly, “Wait—do we need to have a dessert EVERY night?” (and Hubs will say, "And the problem would be????") and we all laugh. It’s only when we eat dinner on the late side and there’s only time for showers and bedtime that no one is looking for dessert.

Except this past week, no one asked me about dessert. The Breyer's chocolare chip ice cream has been untouched in the freezer. And here is the trash can that is located next to just one boy's bed:
Halloween candy gives me a week off of keeping the cupboards stocked with dessert!

Full Beaver Moon

So today is officially the full moon. I almost forgot since it is just a Monday and at 6:00 p.m. I am normally inside whipping up dinner. But with the time change I was getting home and saw the incredible moon glowing yellow against the sky. I pulled in the driveway, ran inside to get my camera and drove up the street to get a good shot. Batteries were dead. Back home, rinse, repeat. And I am so getting a new camera because why is this shot so dark??!! It's called the Full Beaver Moon because this is the time to set beaver traps before the streams freeze over to ensure a winter of warm furs.
(After a beaver coat was about 5 years old it became the perfect fur for a beaver hat--they sold tons of these in England in the 1800's).

I never knew until this past summer how significant fur trapping and trading was to our country's Western Expansion. I never knew till this year that the Gateway Arch in St. Louis represented where Western Expansion began with the Lewis and Clark Expedition. I never knew that Sacagawea's son, Jean Baptiste, went to live in St. Louis with William Clark when he was 6 years old and when he was 18 he toured Europe for 6 years. Once back in the U.S. he became a fur trapper. I guess you cannot take the mountain out of the man.

But back to my drive home at 6:00 p.m. Apparently this neighbor was a very busy beaver today:
(It's November 2nd and they are lit for the Christmas Holidays).

Spongebob says, "I'm Ready, I'm Ready"

I hope everyone is having a wonderful Halloween weekend. I ate all of the roasted pumpkin seeds out of this pumpkin. For the first time in history I took the boys trick or treating with friends while Hubs stayed home. And no one came to our house (not many kids on our street and so the kids go to another 'hood) so no one but us and y'all got to see Spongebob on a pumpkin.

But more candy for me. Oh, and I purposely waited until today to buy candy and bought 5 bags from Target along with my usual week's worth of stuff. Then saw an accident in the Target parking lot in the pouring rain. No one hurt, but a big crash at the end of my aisle with a car plowing into the side of a van.

Due to the rain tonight I couldn't see the almost full moon--did anyone see it? It is officially the full moon on Monday night. And a full extra hour of sleep tomorrow. Yes!(mine are the escaped convict, the werewolf and the Gator Fan).

Time and Tide of the Hormones

Except for bad weather, on Sunday mornings my husband and I walk alone together about 1.5 miles to a gas station and buy the Sunday paper. Once back home I make coffee, cook a big breakfast, throw the kids the sports section, Best Buy and Sports Authority and Target flyers and shoo them out of the kitchen so that we can have some quiet time and not hear the oldest two constantly contradicting each other.

This past Sunday it felt too cold and Hubs said he would drive to get the paper (we only get the Sunday paper and no longer subscribe to it thinking it would be some exercise we could do together). That was fine with me and I lounged around with coffee, folding laundry, picking up messes, the usual.

After about 25 MINUTES it suddenly occurred to me that driving 1.5 miles and back would have taken a lot less time than this and where was he? Of course he left his cell phone on the counter at home. I waited 5 minutes with my heart beating faster. I stood in the garage and looked up the street. He had taken our 3rd vehicle: a very small, older truck that replaced the bigger truck that combusted last year. I then heard sirens possibly several blocks away and panicked. I imagined that a bigger vehicle collided with him in an intersection. I ran in the house and up to the bedroom to fling off my pink and purple fuzzy socks, change out of my flannel pajama bottoms and threw on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt to cover up my breastesses because I was convinced that I would need to look halfway presentable as I was going to surely come upon a wreck and then have to get out of my car.

In just a couple of minutes I had all these thoughts: I cannot possibly deal with life without him—I cannot raise these 3 boys alone—I cannot cope with my upper-generational family without his rational support—I cannot possibly have this happen to us. I think years ago once at night I got scared like this. But this was not a usual feeling, definitely not a routine for me to freak out like this. Truth be told, I recall a couple years ago being so mad at him that I wished he’d go away. What a roller-coaster marriage can be. Anyway, one out of three boys was awake but down in the basement so I just yelled something about being back shortly.

I backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. Here comes Hubs in the little, old truck. We both slow down. We stop and lower our windows. He has a puzzled smile such as, “Were you really looking for me, but maybe you have some other reason to be flying down the road with your hair still in last night’s ponytail and no lip gloss.”

I told him I thought he was smooshed in an intersection because surely it didn’t take this long to get the Sunday paper. Well he had decided to go to Home Depot as well and beat the weekend traffic. So we both pulled our cars back into the driveway and continued on with our Sunday routine.

So you know what’s going on with me? It’s hormones. They are a-changin. For a month now, especially in the mornings and evenings, I will get a flush of heat across my back and arms. I’ll wake up in the a.m. and not even care that Hubs has all the covers pulled off of me because I don’t need them at all. I have a sister-in-law (SIL) who is about 8 years older than I am. Well I have several of them—I am sure we’ll have lots of conversations on this at Thanksgiving. Anyway I remember a few years back (before I could relate) that she was insane with worries. She had a new licensed daughter driving and when my SIL would hear sirens she’d freak and with her hospital job would hear of a young driver accident victim arriving in the ER and panic.

The other day I said out loud at home, “Oh my gosh I’m so hotttt!!!” and my 13 yr old turned around and said, “What?” And I said, “You know how your hormones are changing because you are going through puberty and so your systems are revving up and trying to figure out the right chemical balance for your growing body???? Well mine did too once but now 35 years later my hormones are all changing again which happens when you get older!!!”” (I really need to pick my audience better).

And this is going to take years, people. I think I am going to be pre-menopausal for years. And guess who will be a new driver in the house in about 2.5 years? And then another son will be driving 20 months after that. And then another 2.8 years after him. I'd better keep my gas tank full and my tennis shoes ready for all the panic-driven stunts I have yet to do. (photo found under Google Images under "premenopausal woman)

The Yard Crew

As I mentioned this past spring my husband loves working in the yard. But not so much that he won’t share in the tasks. Tradition has developed that when our sons are in 5^th grade they are taught how to mow the lawn. And then in 6^th grade you get taught how to edge the lawn. When I say "you get taught" I mean that the Hubs provides the lessons because I have never mowed a lawn in my life. The two oldest boys are now in 8^th and 6^th grade so now we have two lawn-mowing yard boys.

Hubs says he really enjoys the yard work but teaching the boys to do the lawn mowing frees him up for flowers and projects. He says he would have taught our daughters the same chore if we had girls. And we don't have tall or beefy boys--in 5th grade they are 4'8" or less. My now 8th grader is still under 5 feet.

In his summer before 6^th grade we suggested to my oldest son that since he had many months experience in mowing our front and back lawn and since he would love to have money for new video games, that he should go door-to-door and talk to the neighbors about his providing lawn services for them. Our neighbors within “walking-with-the-lawnmower distance” consist of a variety of ages and include older professionals with no kids at home. At the time, we lived in the neighborhood for 18 months and didn’t know many of the neighbors. My husband helped him make up some large sized business cards and I set him up with a clipboard and paper. He put on a Polo shirt and went door to door and I stood back a yard or two inconspicuously as he talked to the neighbors at their door. He probably only talked to less than 10 neighbors and proceeded to gain two customers. One is a couple about age 50 who are busy professionals, and the other is a single lady also about age 50.

He “mows and blows” at one visit and then edges at alternates visits. He has finished his third summer since then and still has these same two customers. It is pretty tough juggling school (gets home at 5:00 p.m. off school bus), sports and lawn work (and responsibilities at home!) and frankly sometimes we are compelled to remind him how to manage his time with his customers’ expectations.

One morning a few months ago I was in the yard and another neighbor approached me asking about the boys. She had a college son home for the summer but would need yard help starting in August. Our oldest son is pretty much at his limit and what has worked out is oldest son and middle son work on this yard together two times a month. Sometimes the oldest son will ask the youngest son (3^rd grade) to help blow off a driveway or pick up pine cones—and pays him a few dollars. Around here the grass needs cutting through October and then starts again in April.

So the two oldest boys have both been making money since we pay $10 to mow our front and back lawn (that’s less than the rate on the street but it’s the family rate!), which has been the middle son’s “job” for over a year now .

It's a fairly common event that when the Hubs and I have to run somewhere and need cash we ask if we can take a loan from the “Bank of the Boys”.

It's the Everyday Things, and the Rest of the Story

Last night in bed I said to my husband that I felt like a really bad mom because there is a lot of childhood info about my boys that I have not recorded.

“Like what,” he asked?

“Like their height and weight each year. I didn’t write it anywhere else. When I have taken them to the doctor I know they grow, and they know they grow, but I don’t come home and write it anywhere. And I don’t take them to Well Visits much anymore anyway. And I don’t have much of a baby book for them,” I answered.

“So what, my mom didn’t either,” he said (he's brief, albeit sympathetic).

I thought about that for a second. He’s right—she didn’t. He doesn’t have a baby book at all. And he turned out OK. Not to mention he and I both have about zero baby pictures of ourselves. But he does have congrats cards saved from his parents’ well-wishers, and a card from the hospital nursery listing his weight, date and time of birth. I have that too and the only growth measurements my mom wrote down are up till age two (I kept track of my stats starting at age 10). My mom wrote down how old I was when my baby teeth grew in, but I don’t think that I have for my kids. Oh I have tons of their baby teeth. Just have no clue what day they were lost or from whose mouth.

I do have the hospital bracelets of my first two boys. I even saved baby #3’s placenta (whole ‘nother story), made a belly cast that was later lost and then found, and have their births recorded on obsolete 8mm tape. I have a set of hand prints in plaster! I have photos! (not nearly as many as I could have though). There are boxes of cards they’ve made for me. Stories written and drawings are in plastic bins. We have vacations memories and photos.

Like I said in my post the other day I don’t think my boys will be too sad when they are grown up that they may not know exactly what height they were in 2005 to 2009. And I just realized that I can call up a certain pediatrician’s office and ask for copies of their files, which should have dates and heights and weights (not too many from past two years, but enough).

I may be able to salvage a few of their height markings from the garage door molding that has had the paint scraped off now. It’s really hard to read but I may be able to decipher some of it. It looks like this now:

So here’s the rest of the contractor story. After work on Tuesday we met with the contractor owner, who told us he was a man of his word and wanted to make things right and wanted to compensate us for the horrific mistake and he said he even got teary eyed over it. I said we hadn’t thought of a price—we’re just not that way, although I was very angry this past Friday (and then I got teary because perimenopause is pulsing through my veins these days).

My husband told him that when the work and touch ups get completed, he wants to be able to say he’s glad he hired them, and that he wants to be able to recommend him to the neighbors when they come asking, and that we’ve had other occurrences in our life that actually put into perspective of what is truly important. Hubs mentioned my blog again and how I reported that even though it was 7:00 on a Friday the foreman was trying to fix it. The owner really wanted us to name a price. We didn’t speak first. He really wanted to compensate us financially. We told him we couldn’t think of one. So he named

a price to take off the total cost and we shook on it.

Monday night was raining again and I had a craving all day for this cream cheese frosting recipe. So on the fly I suggested to Youngest son that we make cupcakes. Having a box of cake mix cut down on time and to “make it mine” I added a little scoop of powdered sugar, two tablespoons of cocoa, and a squirt of Hershey’s syrup. He was so happy, happy, happy to lick the beaters and next we made the frosting. I was going to keep the frosting off-white colored but he wanted blue, so why not. For the first time ever I spooned it into a zip lock bag, snipped off a corner and piped on the frosting. I do this with deviled eggs and it looks so much better. They really turned out pretty and were very tasty. I won’t make any other kind of frosting again, it was perfect.

So why mention the cupcakes? They made the boys really happy, just like reading at night makes the Youngest happy and the other things I do with the other two make them happy. There are many things that will be more memorable to them (I hope!) than the growth chart.

The Boys' Measurements I Posted About -- THEY'RE GONE!!!!!!

I sit here with the mascara still running down my face.

We still have contractors at our house who needed to do some touch up paint on one side of the garage where some extra caulking had to be done. We went with this professional contractor business as opposed to a one-man company (we've been there before). In my previous post I told the story of how Hubs showed the contractor the molding at the end of our garage where I've measured the boys for the past FOUR YEARS. The contractor acknowledged that it was special stuff and he instructed the crew not to paint over the whole section. Here is the photo again from my last post:
Today I get home from work and I park in the driveway (usually I pull into the garage). The Hubs comes out to greet me and glances to the left at the molding in the garage and says, "Holy Shit (first time I've sweared on my blog) I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!! "

The new, darker colored paint for the molding on our house now covers the FOUR YEARS OF GROWTH measurements of our three sons. Here it is NOW:


I could not believe it.

I'm ranting and raving in the driveway, the boys come outside, and as the shock wears off the tears are spilling and I got so angry. Hubs called the contractor and got the secretary and told her the upsetting news and I'm yelling in the background. Then I went to the computer and emailed the contractor the photo that shows how nicely they had originally left it, letting them have a visual of the 4 years of memories that I could have saved another way and let them know I was working on a compensation figure.

A few minutes later Hubs found the contractor's cell phone number and called him at home--he'd already heard. Hubs says, "You've got kids, right? Well, you don't even want to talk to Michele right now. In fact she was so thrilled how it was originally handled that she even took a photo and she has a blog and wrote about it."

Contractor told Hubs whatever they need to do to fix it, to make it right....they'll do.....and that the leader guy would come over to try and remove the paint for starters. I don't think so--the markings were in pencil. It blows my mind that someone took the time to mark this off and now someone else on the crew paints over it.

Of course in the scheme of things I am happy to have healthy boys who can stand and be measured every couple months for the PAST FOUR YEARS, and I am so happy to have a blog to make it all feel better. The boys have just now tried to make me feel better by saying they will all get measured tonight on an actual board.

I am so upset. I should get the Nobel Peace Prize if I can refrain from assaulting the painter who did this. What was he thinking???!!!

I loved all of your comments so much about the sentimentality and the family rituals of marking the kids' growth.

One day they will be grown up and live somewhere else and they'll be the heights they end up being and they will live their lives not knowing and not caring too much about how tall they were in 4th grade or 6th grade or how the Youngest was the same height in 3rd grade as the Oldest was at end of 4th grade, etc. It won't really matter in the big, big scheme of things. But I am very upset. And now I am going to seriously market a shiny, painted white, tall board for families to use to chart the kids' growth so that moving homes and painting over walls will not break hearts, amongst all the growing pains.

Will keep you posted.
Update: It has now been an hour since the phone calls and the foreman leader guy is over here at 7:00 p.m. getting the paint off. Too bad I didn't use a permanent Sharpie pen for my markings.

When Will I learn to Not Write on Walls?

This past week we have had the exterior of our house painted. Before the work began, a walk through was done between the painters and my husband.

He is not the sentimental sort—any of the boys’ schoolwork or treasured baby clothes, our love letters and cards and basically any collection of special things exist due to my documentation.

However, this past week he did point out to the painters that this section of the garage trim was not to be touched. The painting is complete and here is what we have on the trim of our garage door:

Why did I not realize that four years ago when we moved here that one day we would repaint? I am so glad I did not have to trace over the past four years of boys’ growth onto a scrap of paper.

UPDATE: I meant to note on this post that I wrote on July 6th about an idea on how to document kids' growth the smart way in case you ever move or as in the case of some friends whose 13 year old is now bumping up against some shelves on their wall. It never even occurred to me that the house exterior painting we'd do in the future could put our growth chart in jeopardy. So, as mentioned in that post--for those of you with little ones--start now with a 2 x4 that can be mounted vertically and then removed. I should paint some and market them!

Wax on Full Harvest Moon

The harvest moon is the full moon that appears closest to the autumn equinox which was Sept. 22. It will look fullest on Saturday night. I say we all need to do something special to celebrate!

I always thought that the harvest moon looked bigger, brighter and even oranger than all others, but my research says this is not true. Here is what's scientific, from the Earthsky site:

Like any full moon, the Harvest Moon rises at sunset and shines all night long. So what’s special about the Harvest Moon? On the average, the moon rises 50 minutes later every night. But not the Harvest Moon! At mid-northern latitudes, the Harvest Moon rises 25 to 30 minutes later for several evenings in a row. And at far northern latitudes, the Harvest Moon rises 5 to 10 minutes later for several evenings in a row.

In the days before electricity, farmers counted on the lamp of the Harvest Moon to gather their crops. Making up for the autumn season’s waning daylight, the Harvest Moon faithfully provides several nights of dusk-till-dawn moonlight. This bonanza of moonlight remains the legacy of the Harvest Moon!

Let me know how it looked in your part of the world.

Dangerous Chores for Boys

This weekend we needed to remove every piece of furniture and knickknack off of our screened porch, as prep work for a new paint job. Our porch is two floors up and I pictured all of us passing in and out of the doors a zillion times, finding suitable spots to store everything in the living room or carrying things through the house to the basement below. It’s a large living-room type porch so we’re talking about several oversized rocking chairs, other chairs, couches, end tables, a coffee table, a humongous rug and more.

To my surprise my husband decided to tie a rope around each piece and lower it down to the work crew (the boys). I thought that was quite inventive and I was impressed. Around here chores are more exciting if they involve danger, drama and strength.

Here is a chair that was lowered.

And a coffee table. It normally has a glass top. That was not lowered down, although the boys were expecting it to come down next.

The large rug was rolled up and then tossed over the edge (no photo was taken as I was yelling to make sure no boys were directly underneath). Their job was to untie the rope after each piece reached the ground and then carry everything into the basement below.

The last item left to remove was the grill. It’s located on a part of the porch that is not inside the screened porch. It was going to just simply be wheeled through the kitchen and out of the garage. But there was definitely some danger and excitement involved.

Hubs decided to open the lower front doors of the grill and see if the grill cover was still stored inside. It wasn’t but he did see a large wasp nest--right inside the door and about 3 inches away from a human who stands there grilling. We use the grill once a week but apparently the heat doesn’t get those wasps fired up. The old can of Raid left behind years ago from the prior owners sure did get them fired up. All the boys and Hubs crouched behind the screened door as the can was aimed at the nest and the aiming button on this old can of poison did not fail. Immediately about 35 wasps flew out and died on our deck. It was definitely an exciting end to the chore.

Speaking of chores, here is one that I needed to tackle and tend to take care of every week of the year:

I guess there is no danger involved with this chore. At least not when a new roll is lovingly placed close enough.