Don't Try This At Home

What's That Word, Again?

Over the last few years, Chilihead, Jr. has developed a tic. Sometimes she blinks her eyes a lot, sometimes she clears her throat. It's noticeable enough that friends and family have asked us what's wrong with her eyes, but not such a big deal that we've plucked them out. We're conservative like that.

Anyway, before we realized it was a tic we tried all sorts of allergy medicines, eye drops, distraction methods (e.g., take a drink when you think you need to clear your throat), but nothing worked. When we asked the doctor if there was anything else we should try, she said, "Nope. She has a tic. It's no big deal. The more you try to make her stop, the worse it will get. Leave her alone!" So we are.

I told you that to tell you this:

Chilihead, Jr. was with me when the doctor explained that the eyes/throat thing is a tic. No big. Later that day, Chilihead, Jr. was telling me something and blinking at the same time. I didn't say anything, but I must have had a "look" on my face. Chilihead, Jr. said to me, "Mom! It's not my fault! It's my flea!"

Dude. My kids are so funny. I love that about them.

Meet Molly

Molly is the newest member of our family. She's a white, seven-month-old Labrador Retriever.

I don't know if you can tell by the utter bliss on my husband's face or not, but he loves this dog. As in, I haven't seen him this attentive to anything since the kids were born. He even came home for lunch today to check on the dog.

Not everyone is as excited about having a dog as my husband, though. Oscar seems to be having a few issues:

Death Warmed Over

Life's Important Questions

I have just experienced one of the best weekends ever: My dad visited us. I absolutely love it when my dad visits. My kids adore him and my husband loves to spend time with him. I can sit and talk to him for hours. My whole family cannot get enough of my dad. It's always a little sad when he leaves, but his visit was a great pick-me-up (considering the funk).

I love to watch how Grandpa John interacts with my kids. He has to constantly remind me to step back and let them just be. (I always worry they are taking advantage of his generosity.) So I do. I'm amazed at how their relationship grows every time he visits. He gives them the room to make their own decisions and does not question them. 

At one point Grandpa John bought Chilihead, Jr. some school supplies she needed. She picked out pencils, markers, a pencil sharpener, and several other things. Later, at another store, my dad also bought her a stuffed doll she's had her eye on. When we returned home, Chilihead, Jr. said, "I'll go up and get my $10 for Grandpa." I was puzzled. I asked her why she needed the $10. "Because that's how much the stuffed doll was and I need to pay him back."

"No," I said, "He wanted to buy that for you. He doesn't want you to pay him back."

"But Mom, doesn't he know he's already bought me so many things for school? He doesn't have to always buy me presents." And then I loved her a little more, which I thought was impossible.

My dad's relationship with Max is just as wonderful. Grandpa John fully understands the humor of an 11-year-old boy. He can have Max cracking up in seconds just by asking a few of life's most important questions. Do you know the answers?

1. What time is it?
2. Have you been to the doctor lately?
3. Do you have a match?

Oh my word. If you know the answers, you're invited to Thanksgiving dinner next fall. You'll fit right in.

The Best Movies You May Not Think to Show Your Kids

I am a movie lover and have been known to sit through many a teen-angst B movie on a Saturday afternoon because the movie-ness is so delicious and it's completely mindless entertainment. Sometimes you just need that. I can watch all kinds of movies: action, comedy, thriller, horror, romance, drama, whatever. I like good movies, so-bad-they're-good movies, and even some lame movies. I can just as easily sit through Pride & Prejudice as I can Twilight or 10 Things I Hate About You. You know what kills me though? Kid movies.

To say I'm unimpressed with children's movies is an understatement. I loathe children's movies. Everything is too over-the-top, have-to-outdo-the-competition. They are loud, garish, and unimaginative. It's a sad state of affairs when the last children's movie that I *loved* was The Incredibles. Nothing since then has really floated my boat--or my kids' boat, for that matter. I have been entertained, mind you, but it wasn't sensational. Current movies don't strike me the way movies did when I was a child. I would tend to think it's because I'm watching with different eyes now, but my own children don't seem to be impressed with the movies any more than I am.

You know what has them talking? The movies I watched when I was a little girl. So far I've shown them the following:

• Escape to Witch Mountain (Fun fact: The actress who plays Tia is Paris Hilton's aunt.)
• Return from Witch Mountain
• Back to the Future
• Back to the Future 2
• Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
• The Hobbit
• Candleshoe
• The Little Rascals/Our Gang
• Riki Tiki Tavi
• ALL of the Star Wars movies (granted 1-3 came out while I was an adult; I still showed 4-6 first!)
• Clue
• The Private Eyes

They loved every single one of those* and asked to watch them over and over. I could have predicted the cool factor of the light saber, but who knew a flying Winnebago would be so enticing?

(* OK. Chlihead, Jr. did not like Clue or The Private Eyes. She disliked them because she viewed it as confirmation that anyone could be murdered any time for any reason and that scared the dickens out of her. Lesson learned on my part. I honestly thought the humor would outweigh the obviously fake murders. I saw The Private Eyes when I was her age and loved it. It's very un-PC, though. Seriously. So if that offends you, stay away.)

We have a DVD case that holds 200 DVDs. It's not completely full, but it's getting there. Nothing in that case has been watched (except for The Little Rascals) unless there is absolutely no other choice or we're on a road trip. I'm loathe to purchase any more movies. Indeed, I've told the kids they have to pony up their allowance for any new movies. Not that they've asked because guess what? Nothing's good enough to buy. Right now I think we're all content to let Netflix ship us the next blockbuster from the 70s and 80s.

We currently have in our Netflix queue:

• For the Love of Benji
• Splash
• Ghostbusters
• Teen Wolf
• Old Yeller
• Adventures in Babysitting
• Big
• What About Bob?
• The Karate Kid
• Pee-Wee's Big Adventure
• Back to the Future 3

It's true: none of those are earth-shattering choices with great lessons to be learned. But you know what? They don't have all the dazzle; they just have jokes. Most of them have an interesting story to boot.

I understand that many of these movies also contain language not fit for little ears. I was never restricted in what I could or couldn't watch while I was growing up and I think I turned out OK. I generally know what my kids can handle and they know what our rules are. Just because some guy in a movie says a certain word, doesn't mean it can come out of your mouth without a consequence. You can absolutely laugh at it, though.

What about you? What movies do you remember from your childhood that you think today's kids would enjoy? Have you shown them to your kids yet? I need some more ideas.

It's Time to Get Funky

My friends, I am in a funk. (All together now: How funky are you?) I'll tell you how funky I am. I'm going to get a new car tomorrow and I couldn't care less. And this new car? It comes with Bluetooth capabilities for my phone. Which means I can be hands-free in my car without even trying. Seriously. And my reaction? I'm all, "Whatever." I've been wanting Bluetooth forever and I don't even care about it now. (Is it bad to voice these things outside of my own mind? I know how shallow that appears. Ah, I'm as deep as your sink.)

I blame the funk on post-holiday let-down. Now, lest any family members be reading this post and think they are the cause, please be assured you are not. I get funky. I am funky. Sometimes the funk, she is not so pretty. This is one of those times.

I tell you that I am in a funk not for your sympathy, but because I'm seriously not the in the mood to write a damn thing. I know it's been sparse here for the better part of six months, but it may be about to get even sparser.

I do have good news, though. I'm having a giveaway of Little Debbie 100 calorie snack cakes on Monday. These snacks are delicious and just big enough to manage your sweet tooth cravings. So definitely come back on Monday. Mmmmkay?

Hector Vector, The Collector: A Poem by Max

Hector Vector by Max
Hector Vector
was a collector.
He did his best
to find old vests,
rotten soap bars,
and broken stars.

Hector Vector,
the collector,
found coats with rips,
and broken chips,
jammed chomping lips,
and old chip dips.

And this made
Hector Vector
a great collector.

My son is a fan of the great Shel Silverstein. Can you tell?

The Mom In Me: My Kids Are Creative Geniuses (Now with pictures!)

This week has been one of uber-creativity for my kids. It's spirit week at their school and Max's grade is doing the holiday play.

Spirit week entails a different type of dress for each day. Tomorrow is crazy hair day or hat day. Chilihead, Jr. asked me this morning if we could make her hair into a sunshine by putting pony tails in a half-circle around her head. In other words, we'll have pony tails/dog ears going from one side of her head, over the top of her head, and ending at the other side. I know I'm her mom, but WOW! What an excellent idea. Max, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with crazy hair day. There will be no colored stripe on his buzz cut (even though I've pleaded with him to do it just this once). That boy wants no part of it.

Chilihead, Jr.'s hair:

 

Speaking of Max, his holiday play is tonight. He is part of the chorus and therefore was assigned to be a toy. He was to come up with a costume that made him look like a toy. (This is where you insert Woody saying, "YOU.  ARE.  A.  TOY!!!") Of course, I offered to help him with this costume and fully expected he take me up on the offer. He did not. My son decided to make the costume himself and could not be swayed.

The costume he wanted to make was that of a Lego. My only role was to find and buy a blue t-shirt that was the color of a Lego. Easy enough: I went to Hobby Lobby (such a chore, I tell you--not). Over the next few days I begged and pleaded with Max to let me help him with his costume. I had grand ideas that involved batting, paint, and 3-D. Nope. Max was adamant I not help.

I was worried. Why? Not because I thought Max would fail or couldn't do it. No. I was worried because I knew I'd be the only mom who didn't make their child's costume. I was sure to be labeled the slacker mom. The mom who wouldn't pitch in to make the show as polished as possible. The mom who was too busy to help make a simple costume for her child's holiday play.

You know what? I'm not worried any more. Max made the most phenomenol Lego t-shirt ever seen. He was so proud of the way it turned out that he ran into my bedroom and showed it to me. The look on his face said it all: *I* did it. And he did. And I couldn't care less what those other moms think. My boy is independent and creative. I'll take that over my reputation at school any day.

(I'd have pictures to show you, but he's wearing the shirt today for their assembly. I'll try to post some later this week.)

Santa: Is He or Isn't He? What Do You Tell Your Kids?

I have always been a great believer in pretend and imagination. As my husband and I have raised our kids I've relished my role as  Head Elf, Resident Leprechaun, Tooth Fairy, Easter Rabbit, Great Pumpkin, and any other imaginary, gift-bearing being.

When my son was about five he noticed that I have pointy ears (I don't, by the way). Since it was around Christmas I didn't miss a beat and said, "That's because I'm an elf." For six years my kids thought I was an actual elf that could tell what people are thinking and what they are about to do. How else could I know my daughter had to go the restroom?

This summer while we were on vacation, my daughter (who is eight) pulled me into the bathroom and sat me down on the toilet for a serious discussion. She put her hands on my shoulders and said, "Mom. Are you Santa?"

"Uhhh." I am nothing if not brilliant under pressure.

"I'm old enough to know. You're Santa, aren't you?"

"Did your brother say something to you? Where is this coming from? Why do you think I'm Santa?" I asked.

"No, he didn't say anything. Why? Does he know too? I was just thinking and it seems like you might be Santa."

At this point she looked me deep in the eyes and smirked. It was clear to me she was already sure of the answer and whether I verified it or not, the jig was up. So I verified. We now live in a Santa-free zone. The Easter Bunny, Leprechauns, Great Pumpkin, and Tooth Fairy are known fakes.

How about you? Santa or no Santa? Have you told your kids or did they tell you? How did they take the news?

My Strong Girl

Third grade can be a hard year, I think. Something sort of changes--in the teachers' expectations of the kids, how the kids see themselves, how the kids interact with each other. I saw the change when Max was in third grade and now Chilihead, Jr. is in third grade and I'm seeing it again.

With Max, his personality is to lay low and not draw attention to himself. In third grade, though, he found two friends that were rambunctious and athletic, who were always the center of attention. It really helped him come out of his shell. He still doesn't like attention drawn to him, but he's more apt to go with the flow now. He's still very concerned about fitting in so no attention is drawn to him for the wrong reasons. He's very much like his dad and me.

Chilihead, Jr., on the other hand, is a performer. She'll take your attention and demand more. She's had some disappointments in that avenue, but she bounces back and tries again. In fact, we discussed several times how not getting the part doesn't mean you've failed. Heck, in this family of introverts if you even tried out for the part you're ahead of the game! She's doing what I wished I had had the confidence to do all my life. And I'm so proud of her.

Chilihead, Jr. and Max are at a new school this year. Chilihead, Jr. is getting the double-whammy: new school AND third grade. She's handled it like a champ. She's kept her old friends (some were moved to the new school with us) and she's made new friends. Making new friends hasn't been easy, but not for the reasons you might think. Chilihead, Jr. is friendly and likes meeting new people; one of her old friends, who is also in her class, believes the old friends should stick together and not make new friends. This friend is used to others doing what she says. She's used to determining the rules of the games and who can play. Chilihead, Jr. has been torn and we've had many discussions about how to handle this. I've tried my best to simply be there to listen and role-play and ask questions, but it's been hard. Now is the age where my child must take up for herself and I must step back and let things fall where they may. Chilihead, Jr. has impressed me more than I can say.

Chilihead, Jr. is her own girl and she wants everyone to get along and play. She has stood up to her old friend and declared that she likes the new girls. Chilihead, Jr. has been threatened with being ousted from the group and she chose to oust herself (the ringleader begged her back). She's been told (by the ringleader) that the other girls are mean and rude. Chilihead, Jr. knew this to be false and declared it so. In what may have been my proudest moment yet, Chilihead, Jr. used the ringleader's own logic against her to prove her point. I love my girl. I love even more that she is her own girl and makes her own decisions.

One of the things I've worried about most as a parent is raising a strong girl. I worried too much about what others thought or expected and missed many an opportunity because I wanted to be perfect and fit in. I don't want that for my daughter. I want her to dance to her drum even if it's a trumpet. I think she is.