13 Things

I'm still trying to wrap words around our decision not to celebrate Halloween. I want to make sure we're really doing this on purpose, not just because it's the thing to do--either way. I read this list recently in Reader's Digest and it helped:

13 Things Your Trick-or-Treater Won't Tell You
This Halloween, we turned to the experts (kids!) to give us the scoop on how to score the most candy while trick-or-treating and more.
By Phillip Done, from Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind: Thoughts on Teacherhood
1. Old people are either very generous or give you one peanut. There is no in-between.
2. The cuter our costumes, the more candy we get.
3. Good loot: Tootsie Rolls, Kit Kats, Nerds, Twizzlers, Jolly Ranchers, Starbursts, Skittles, Snickers, and Whoppers. Bad loot: toothbrushes.
4. Pillowcases hold twice as much as plastic grocery bags and three times as much as plastic orange pumpkins.
5. Don’t get stuck behind little kids at the door. They take forever to decide.
6. Handing out candy is like serving wine at a party. People serve the good stuff first and save the not-so-good stuff for later. The longer you stay out on Halloween night, the worse the candy gets.
7. Lots of decorations in the front yard means good candy. They spend a lot on Halloween.
8. If a group of children gathers at the door, sometimes it's best to be in the front so you won't have to wait and can run immediately to the next house. But sometimes it’s better to be the last one: You might get two pieces of candy for being patient.
9. It's always better to choose your candy than to have someone else choose it for you.
10. When parents chaperone, moms say "Be careful" and "Remember your manners." Dads say "Wha'd ya get?"
11. Know your shortcuts. Slide through hedges. Jump over gutters. Dodge strollers. And run, do not walk.
12. Dads stay out later than moms.
13. Do not show your teacher what you have in your lunch bag the day after Halloween. Otherwise, he might point to his "Official Halloween Candy Taste Tester" button and ask for all your Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

A surface read might cause a chuckle or smile. After all, these are meant to be cute kid quotes, right? But these statements are symptomatic of the hearts these kids are growing into. I just don't see any values here that line up with the marching orders that came from my King. That makes it a little easier to define some of the blurry edges.

Borrowed Ideas

I'm the last one to want to start with the Christmas decorations in October. I think it's ridiculous that the stores already have Christmas stuff out. Makes me want to get on my materialism soapbox and sit a spell. But if you call it "planning," then I'm all for it. I've really enjoyed SimpleMom's series on 12 weeks 'till Christmas and how planning ahead can make the season more peaceful. My two favorite posts so far:

10 Clutter-Free Gift Ideas for Kids

9 Weeks Till Christmas: Plan for your Family to Give to the Community

I look forward to trying at least a few of these this year, though I'm not sure which ones yet. I think we'll be able to do even more in years to come as the girls get older. Makes Christmas sound fun again.

Taste of Freedom

Yesterday I took the girls on a long walk in the beautiful weather to get out of the house so J could rest. I asked A if she wanted to ride her tricycle instead of sitting in the double stroller (please, please, please, don't make me push that monstrosity). Yeah, that sounded like fun! Off we went. I put C in the umbrella stroller and A pedaled her little trike. She was very obedient about staying close to the side of the road or on the sidewalk. She was even very good to stop on her own as we approached a cross street so that we could look for cars.

I got a big laugh out of her little taste of freedom though. She would pedal as fast as she could, little knees almost hitting the handlebars, singing to herself, "I can do it! I can do it! I can get far away from Mommy!" She'd give me a quick glance over her shoulder and giggle, "You're way back there." She would go as far as the next cross street, then stop and wait for me. She was obeying all our safety rules, so I just let her go. She wants to be independent so badly. Must be hard to be so grown-up in such a little body.

Sick Days

Seems that our family had a few days of rest coming whether we liked it or not. I started with a stomach bug on Thursday and J quickly rearranged plans and deadlines to be available with the girls. Fortunately, it seems to have only been a 24-hour thing as I was feeling good again by yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, I must have shared it with J, who is suffering this morning. Here's hoping he'll sleep it off and not pass it on to anyone else.

Goodbye, Halcyon Days of 3!

Alas, wise friend who predicted the demise of happy 3-year-old-ness, I am sad to say you were right. Tuesday was an absolute line in the sand between A and her parents. The gauntlet has been thrown down and we have accepted the duel, as God's agents to train her in the ways of His kingdom.

Morning was peaceful enough until I dared to rock by the boat by suggesting we listen to a different VeggieTales album in the car while running errands. I'm not talking about surfing from NPR to heavy metal; let's just hear Bob and Larry sing a little something different than the tunes they've been crooning for the last THREE MONTHS. I should have known better. At one point during this episode, A yelled from the backseat in my general direction, "You, you just get out there and do your job!" I don't know where she pulled that from, but I had to stop and deliver an attitude adjustment twice in less than two miles.

Once inside at our first stop, she quietly mumbled to herself while sitting in the buggy, "I will not look at her. I will not look at her. I will not look at her." Seriously. Through the whole store. Fortunately, we were only there for a quick trip.

Later at supper, I was filling Daddy in on the events of the day both good and bad. That's when A informed him, "You need a new wife." To be fair, she also told me that I need a new husband. We had a nice conversation about how God brought us together and wants us to be a team for always. I summed it up with, "We're all stuck with each other." She ended with a curt prayer, "God, could you please send them to the lion's den?"

During clean-up time after supper, she locked horns with Daddy. I had predicted her un-doing only moments before when I chose to change C's stinky diaper instead of helping A with clean up. I soooo knew what was coming and couldn't deal. Give me a stinky diaper over a stinky attitude any day! We require eye contact when discussing discipline, so the whole looking at us thing is kind of important and she knows it. That's why it was a battle he had to fight when she told him, "I can't look at you because that will break my rules."

We're reading Tedd Tripp's Shepherding a Child's Heart and I'm really clinging to the truth that we are God's agents of authority. We aren't pushing our own agenda, comfort or convenience. It's not about her outward behavior; it's about her heart and how she responds to our King.

Lord, please give us the strength and power to be a consistent example of your loving discipline. We trust that if we obey You in what You have called us to do, then just like in every other aspect of life, You will be faithful to do the hard stuff--bending her heart toward Yours.

Nine Months Old

Last Thursday marked C's nine month birthday. I told A that morning and she asked if we were going to have cake and blow out candles. I conceded by having her help make vanilla pudding, which we all enjoyed later after a round of "Happy Birthday" to C.

At 9 months, C is weighing 16 lbs 7 oz.--still quite petite, but growing well in her own right. And she isn't small for lack of eating. She can still put away the frozen peas. In the last month, she has started crawling and pulling up. It took her a few days to figure out how to sit back down once she pulled up on something, but she's got it down well enough now that she even tried it in the bathtub tonight.

If I ever provoked you to envy by saying, "my baby doesn't ever really put things in her mouth," know that I am reaping what I sowed in spades. Spades, I tell ya. C is putting everything in her mouth plus all the things A never found. Here is a list of contraband she taste-tested today (yes, just today):

• ping pong ball
• long strand of toilet paper (how did that get in the living room?!)
• A's painted wooden treasure box whose paint comes off when wet (explaining the hot pink stain on C's shirt)
• miscellaneous fuzz (after I swept the floor)
• hair bow
• dishwasher detergent (tried to scrape the leftovers out of the soap compartment while I loaded the dishes)
• bathtub drain
• bottom of mommy's shoe
• night light (which she had just removed from the wall and was in the process of replacing when I walked in)

These are just the ones I know about. I readily acknowledge that she may also have consumed crusty food off the floor, leaves, and/or mud while my back was turned. While the night light was a little unnerving, the ping pong ball was stinkin' hilarious.

Happy 9-month Birthday, C!

Useless Backyard

My beautiful backyard is absolutely useless. That is, to the human species. It is apparently a fantastic breeding ground for mosquitoes. I walked five steps off my patio recently and got three bites. Did I mention it was mid-afternoon?! The mosquitoes are so bad at this house. We hunted and hunted for a house that provided good shade in the afternoon so our children could play without frying to a crisp. But it appears the trade-off for foliage is mosquitoes!

I have tried quite a few products to keep them at bay, starting with BT mosquito dunks in our french drains. We also have the aesthetically-pleasing bug zapper with mosquito lure, and have been known to light citronella torches if we want anybody else to venture out there. I have sprayed the grass with a cedar oil formula and spread geraniol granules throughout the backyard. We tried wearing geraniol bug bands, but I can't tell they do anything to prevent bites. J even bought a bat box and will mount it on a telephone pole sometime soon (I hope). I am constantly eliminating any sources of standing water, but the lawn is quickly saturated. I had no idea we were moving into a marsh. Next I'm going to try some BT granules spread over the lawn and probably the wooded area in our side yard. Then I'm going to pray for a hard freeze. Because nothing says "Come play outside, kids!" like a frozen playscape and ice-crusted grass.

What We're Wearing

Ponytails are very in at our house. A fashion necessity for C, lest she consume her own long locks. And at long last, a request from A, lest she be outdone by her baby sister.

Rainbows

We were talking about Noah during our school time at home last week. The art included painting a watercolor rainbow above an ark picture. She really liked making rainbows.

How To Explain?

I love this time of year. Mainly, it's the cooler weather. I think that's why most Texans enjoy fall and spring--they aren't summer. But I get antsy in October. There's this holiday at the end of the month that makes me really uncomfortable. We have decided as a family not to celebrate Halloween. But how to explain that decision to all of our friends and extended family who really enjoy the building momentum of this holiday?

People ask, "What costumes are you getting for the girls?" I'm not. My daughter wants to know what that scary statue is in the store window. I have to censor her usual tv shows because they're doing Halloween specials. I formulate answers to her questions about what she's heard at school, church, or the park. "There is a holiday this month that lots of people celebrate called Halloween. As best we can tell, it's a celebration of scary things and being scared. Daddy and I don't think this is something God wants us to celebrate, because He is not a scary God and we don't need to be scared of Him. So we skip this holiday and wait for Thanksgiving, when we can celebrate all the wonderfully good things God has given us."

God, please help our girls understand. Give us the words to express the conviction you have placed in our hearts. Defend us from the temptation to turn it into something self-righteous. Give us courage to live it out and not compromise to the default of our culture.

I don't know where she gets it

For the life of me, I cannot figure this one out. I understand that I can be a little compulsive sometimes, but this borders on Monk-like tendencies. Girl has been eating frozen waffles for breakfast for most of her little life and will not, I mean will NOT, eat the corners. How does one achieve corners on a round waffle, you ask? I have tried several variations on the cutting of a round waffle and she always finds the pieces that end up as triangles instead of squares or rectangles. Obviously, these little triangles are inedible. Exhibit A:








Doesn't that just beat all?! Fortunately, she has begun to refuse syrup and request "big" waffles with only butter. No cutting = no corners = whole waffle consumed (most of the time), which is good because I have bigger fish to fry, like purging all of our clothes with bent lapels. No, not really! None of our clothes have lapels.

Sit down

This is crazy huge. Are you sitting down?

Yes, it's a chicken. A raw chicken. A raw, whole chicken. Only thing missing is the head and feathers. Any one who has known me for any length of time knows that I have an irrational neurosis about preparing or eating meat that resembles its original source too closely. That doesn't mean I don't want my meat to be fresh. I just prefer to not be able to envision the poor thing that gave it's life for my pot pie.

That said, I have come to terms with the fact that roasting a whole chicken is much more economical than buying chicken breasts. Alas, my penny-pinching has defeated my animal-lover. I did of my own accord and by my own hand prepare, roast, and consume the aforementioned chicken. (J did help take the leftover meat off the bones, but I was perfectly willing to do it.)

I had planned to document the whole experience in photos, because this is a pretty big milestone for me. But digital cameras and raw chickens are not normally good co-workers. So you only get the one photo while it was still nicely wrapped and sanitary, and only vaguely in the shape of a poor little chicken body.

Once I unwrapped said chicken, well, there you go. No mistaking it now--that's a headless chicken. The directions were easy enough. Rinse, pat dry, remove giblets from cavity, season, roast. I can do this. I even allowed myself only 15 minutes to get it done so I wouldn't hesitate. Rinsing done, little wings getting slightly more flappy. We'll skip the patting dry business. Remove giblets from cavity. Hmmm. Now that it's over, all I can say is that the directions were just trying to be polite. What I really had to do was put my hand inside the chicken's southern-most body opening, locate and remove its internal organs--all easily identifiable from my freshman biology class. That was obviously the most traumatic part, but then came the Great Pan Debacle of '09.

After seasoning the chicken, I put it in my pan of choice only to find that the lid wouldn't stay on. Wash hands, find new pan. Try again. Same dilemma. Allow me to point out that I have a big roasting pan, but the recipe pointed out the importance of using a pan that was just big enough so that the chicken would stay juicy and not dry out. So, wash hands, find new pan. Rinse, repeat. Finally ended up with the original pan, held closed by foil. You can imagine by this point how floppy the little bird had gotten at being handled so much. I really wanted to try holding it by its pitiful little wings and making it dance, but I was afraid I would rip the bones out of their sockets and the whole thing would have gone in the trash.

I am happy to report that this post is so long because it was a cathartic experience for me to have accomplished this and knowing I could blog about it gave me the wherewithal to do it. I have since learned that summoning the courage to insert my seasoning inside the chicken will yield more flavor (hat tip to my big sis), so I am willing to try again. In a few months.

Just another October day in Texas

Why not? It's almost 90 degrees and 120% humidity.

Pink Arrow First

A's latest milestone came while tussling with Daddy on the couch this afternoon. He gave her a hearty tickle to which she protested, "Stop, stop, stop, Daddy! You're messing up my hair!" To my knowledge that is the first time she threw a flag on the play due to hair interference. (I have to mix in some sports metaphors to make up for the lack of actual sports being played in our house--Wii bowling doesn't count.)

J isn't much of a hunter (which I am ever so grateful for), so I don't think that is a sport that he is missing with his daughters. The only hunting that goes on around here is some intense hide-and-seek. We play at least three times a day. A has even learned that Mommy can play "just with your eyes" if my hands are otherwise employed. J says he might could keep up the hunt a little longer if A wasn't so obvious, "Okay, Daddy, you count to ten and I'm going to go hide in the pantry."

And our final pink milestone for the day...J asked me to teach A how to play bunko! Can you imagine?! I hadn't even thought of it as a viable pre-school game, but he knew she could do it and it approximates a board game (one of his favorite pastimes). Sure enough, she caught the fever. I can hear them at the table now, "I got one 2, Mom!" I told her that three of a kind makes a bunko and she was the perfect pupil when she rolled her first one. "BUNKO!" she yelled, practically quivering. J said the only difference between her and the noise at a usual bunko game is the size of her body. Notice he didn't say the size of her voice. Bunko, baby, BUNKO!