Best, Worst, Funniest and AM RADIO

I think one trick to keeping things in perspective, is the day end review that I do with Jaden.

I picked this game up while watching a friend do this with her kids at dinner time; she asks the kids, and her spouse, The Worst and Best of the day.

Each child had an opportunity to tell the worst, and best, of their day. And we went around the table each person taking their moment to recount an awful, and spectacular moment of the day.

Ooo's and aaahhh's can accompany these moments.

J and I had to take it a step further, however, and add: The Funniest. Because in our situation, there is a lot of funny. The problem with this pillow talk review of the day's events, is that we are starting to indulge our "story".

Instead of a simple bad/good account, we are ending up with some fish tales.

For instance, Jaden's "worst" was coming down the slide and hitting his lip. The fact it gave him a fat, purple lip, didn't stop there. It moprhed into Mark Twainesque quality the second time around. (the first was when he came in the door and then of course for Best/Worst/ Funniest at bedtime)

The second time around, he not only hit the edge of the slide, but he was flipped off several feet into the air and landed head first into a mound of fresh powder snow.

"It impacted my eyes. [the snow]. And then it went up into my brain, giving me a brain freeze."

His best: getting honorable mentions on his handwriting- without even trying- by his teacher. All while going to school, sick he said casuallyl.

All the positive feedback is making him want to be a better little man. Which made a "best" for me today cause I felt really awful sending him out into the blizzard today with his annoying, hacking cough.

He pointed out it may disturb the class, I pointed out that he'd just blend in.

His Second Best: we got to listen to our very own Grizz play Highland in Poky tonight. At first he balked at this old school version of taking in the game. He whined that we never go to games.

But pretty soon he was hearing the familiar names over the radio, the DJ's play by play announcing, and the cheer of the Skyline crowd at an away game. I had microwaved pop corn and as we knelt under the am coverage, I told him about the olden days- when entertainment was ONLY found by listening to the radio.

His video game loving eyes almost popped like the corn kernals he was eating. I decided to let him count the time spent listening to the game, towards the "mind" jar we fill with rice grains.

It took some serious concentration and he did need to put into perspective the fact that sometimes, ya can't make all the games.

UGH-nconditional Love & Tub Talk

Well, Valentine's Day brought an opportunity for J to learn what TRUE LOVE means.

I was giddy with excitement to see what Valentines he'd bring home from school. After walking through the puddle in our drive a few times he finally walked inside.

"So.... where's the Valentine's" I teased in my luvvy voice.

"Oh, I left them at school." he said non-chalantly as he peeled the wet layers off his body, leaving a trail into the kitchen.

"At school?? Wasn't it a big day?" I asked perplexed as he ate his sweetheart snack. (a power sandwich of almond butter and Honey, along with some Vanilla yogurt and sugar cookie.)

He shrugged. With his mouth full, he asked what we were going to do for the night.

"I hadn't made any big plans." I told him skeptically.

"what did you have in mind?"

"Everbody goes out on Valentine's Day! I can't believe that we are the ONLY family not celebrating the holiday!"

I recalled hanging up the cutsy decorations for the holiday and said: "It isn't like it is a National, I mean like it is Christmas! Ya don't get toys, etc! What more could ya want?" I said gesturing to all the love surrounding us.

"A ride to Yellowstone or something." he mumbled.

"You have school tomorrow!" I pointed out. -nevermind the absurdity of driving to West Yellowstone and back in a 12 hours time period, although we have done it plenty of times with Padre.

He consummed a Martha Stewart looking cookie my neighbor made, making my store-bought ones pale in comparison, and we all headed out the door for a little ride with the fam.

Driving around in the country he mused how beautiful it was and that he would like to live out there. Papa slowed down, the carameled snow drifts slowing in the window, and said: "Okay, if you insist, we'll drop you off."

"Are you kidding? I didn't mean just ME." he quipped. " I wouldn't survive the night out here! Have you lost your marbles?"

Papa sped up toward the warm home waiting for us in town and we discussed the options for dinner: leftovers or tacos.

That night we talked about why some had "innie" and others had "outtie" belly buttons while he took a bath.

"just make sure to keep yours clean, you never know when someone will see it." I warned and handed him a wash rag and told him a story that left him giggling well into the night.

That night we counted out rice grains for the Kerr jars we have set up to help us keep "balance". Each has a different area to keep track of: Mind. body. Spirit. All three make up the heart.

"Today wasn't such a bad day." he concluded as he dropped a grain of rice in for his reading time.

"Even though you didn't get to go to Yellowstone?"

"We can do that on a weekend, I have school tomorrow."

Right-o.

Awwww... He's Mine!

"Come on, jump up! It's Valentine's Day!" I chirped to get my littlest Valentine outta bed.

After checking up on his progress, he said: "Can you believe it's already Valentine's Day?"

"Umm, no. Hurry we gotta get you out the door." i bent down to help push the socks onto his feet.

"Mom, it's been almost 8 years that we've been together!"

I stopped mid sock. He already is getting this "Love 'Em up" on Valentine's Day thing, down pat.

Morning prayer did reveal doubts in his abilities, however. He asked for divine help in getting the right Valentines to the right folks and hoped that the day wouldn't "burn up".

I hope things don't get that hot over there at the elementary as well. :(

On the way to school I saw all these kids showing up with their boxes decorated. I asked him if we needed to decorate his box before we sent it to school last week.

J replied: "My teacher is so nice, she said I didn't need to!"

What a sweetie.

Love 'Em Up, Jack Sparrow Style

I was stoked to use the Valentine's I'd gotten for $1.00 last year. I hoped J would still want the Pirates of the Caribbean style still for this V-Day.

We opened them up and started bending the perforated line back and forth and separating them from eachother. Reading each one and looking at his list from school I teased him.

"Oh, who ya gonna send the big one to, Kara?" smooch-a-ly.

"NO!" he retorted.

Filing through the different notes that said things like: "Have a Swashbuckling Time, Valentine!" or "Parlay, Valentine!" we came upon Will and Elizabeth in a romantic scene. Will had the damsel, Liz, on the edge of his ship, both looking off into the sunset or something.

Simultaneously, we both blushed. "Ummm... what in the..." I said staring at the picture.

Finally, I came back to my senses, grabbed the box and looked for a "Rating" on the box. Turning it over a couple times and not finding one, I gathered the ones with the risque pose and said:

"you don't have to send these to any of the girls." I assauged his fears and then changing the topic said:

Oh, look! they have heart stickers! Put those on your Valentine's card, so she'll know ya like her."

Letting him work on that penmanship, I watched as he put hearts on some of the Valentines.

Nosily, I Picked up a few and I read off a couple of the girls names from the pink sheet. THEN, I noticed he'd used some of the Will and Liz picks for them.

"You sure you wanna do this?" I asked as if he were getting ready to sign up for the army.

"Mom, it's Valentine's Day." he reassured. "Ya gotta Love 'em up."

LOVE THEM UP???????????????????????????????

"What do you mean by that???"

Smoothing a sticker hastily on a card he looked up at me and said: "Yeh, treat 'em nice and special."





All I know is if I got a Valentine like that I'd think he was feigning commitment. And he is- to all of them.

My elementary years are starting to make sense. And when J is being chased by all the girls, I'm gonna show him this pic below and remind hiim of his equality charachteristics.

Soggy Sock and Teachers that See Potential

Sometimes I have to wait to get the gumption up to go tackle the dishes.

Wearing some socks as I usually do I walked through the kitchen, picked up the dishes off the table and walked right into a puddle of water in front of the sink.

The fridge sometimes spits out ice cubes to aggravate me. They thaw and I usually walk right into them. Like the books from the library, the cubes like to lodge in the shoot, wait till someone walks away, then shoot out onto the floor.

When I informed Padre of the fridge glitch, he told me to wear shoes.

Instead, I sat down and looked through the packet of papers that J brought home.
His teacher he informed me is just his "style."

"She can be rough and tough. But she sure is funny."

The other day he came and told me he couldn't wait until those things came home with the grades one them- 'Report cards?' I asked.

"yeh, those. I can't wait to see all threes!"

He has been really trying to get his his hand writing cleaned up. But, unfortunately, his teacher is still insisting that he sit his p's on the line. Make his 5's stop looking like sickly b's with hats.

HIm coming home to see his handwriting grade is going to be worse than stepping in the ice cube puddle.

Hopefully he will still think she is the best subject in school and appreciate her rough and tough style. Cause I am not looking forward to being the bearer of bad news. Or isisting on more handwriting exercises.

But like most things, you gotta get passed the everday puddles and dive into the dishes.

Library Regs and Detached Operators

Ya know how I push reading? Talking on and on about a good book. The classics or some genius new author's slant on an old idea?

How a few posts back I suggessted going to your local library?

Well, I am gonna give a warning. The books, from the library, are equipped with chips that make them lose themself. This isn't some conspiracy theory.

I can PROVE that I have taken a book to the drop off box, it has grown limbs, stopped itslef mid slide to the clerk, climbed back outside the drop off box and grabbed onto the bumper of my car.

With the brazen audacity and street cred of a mobster, it will put itself somewhere you won't notice until spring, or the next time you put up Christmas. Or move.
Some library books have a sick sense of humor. I have had one trip me right in the middle of a heavy traffic area of my home. yeh, "they" know what they are doing.

So I am coming back with some of my own strategies, based on the Madoff style of corupption going on behind our bookworm backs.



First, my suggestion that the government intercede like it did with the credit card companies and come down on the sneaky library fines.

Once Upon A Time, a fine used to be a few cents, or a it was a few bucks when you returned to the library. no big deal to hand over chump change.

Now, the serious similarities with credit cards and libraries, came to my attention with this simple phone call.

Like many of you, I called to find out how much my fine was one day. A seemingly nice person told me that my library card had a heinous amount of money due on it. "doh!' I hate the stab of a LIBRARY FINE!

Hello! Those are NO Brainers. But at the library, they have brains. With all those books, they have honed in on the most terrible tactics and I think we should steer our attention away from what is happening in Egypt, and start lookin' at the stuff goin' on in our own back yards.

Why? Cause I let a few weeks pass before I called the brown bricked building across the river again.

Another librarian answered. (they have caller I.D. I know it.) She told me a considerably increased amount on the amount due for the LOST BOOK from last year.



"I was told I had to pay $12. something, for that LOST book." I told her eying my calendar with the scribbled amount owed. (mind you they have put the chips in the books)

"You were? By who? Did you get a name?" she asked empathetically.

No, I didn't catch the name, a nice person, who works at the library. Those things don't change! I thought.

"No." I said ashamed. And vowing to also include journaling these phone calls as well as all the others.

I confidently gave her the date I called. Thank you cell phone people!

"mmmm. I see that you did call on that day." she said as I felt the feeling of relief wash over me.

Expecting redemption from the interest-like accruing mess she broke the silence:

"Oh, I see. The person you spoke with didn't include the processing fee."

"Processing Fee?"

"Mm-hmm. It is $5.00 to process it. I am sorry you weren't informed." she said adding the amount out loud that I'd been told and confirming that she had found the problem.

While she is doing this I am picturing an 'ol lady taking my money and that very moment accounting for the PROCESS in which I was being fined.

AFter a couple seconds of stone silence she broke it with more sugary good news.

"But since you did call in, it has been over 90 days and is dubbed a LOST BOOK, we will not add the daily late fee charge!"



I guffawed.

"Really?"

"Does your computer system also put who TALKED to me on the day I called." I asked dryly

"no I am sorry, it doesn't."

At this same time I am reeling about the fact that there is ANOTHER book, that I can't find, with a due date looming.

"Okay, okay. I will pay for the lost book and the processing fee. I CANNOT find the Pecos Bill book that you say I have not returned. So I need to re-check it out." I breathed out and thought about the blitz on the house and now library I was gonna have to do.

"Umm, let me check." click. type. click. silence.

Bomb: "Oh, I am sorry that book is on hold."

"On hold? You are saying that I am holding that book."

"Yeh, someone called and pre-checked it out."

I am thinking of this specific book, and the likelyhood that some kid called and requested THIS particular, old book. -Most randomly grab what is on the shelf. But, hey, maybe I am underestimating the kids these days.

"Can you LOOK and see if it has been returned?" I begged. After having turned my son's room upside down and rearranged it to find the book before the due date I am confident they might have it and this is some sort of way to earn money by the library.



"Sure! If you feel that you have returned it, then there is a freeze. You have nothing more to do." she assauged my worries. "It is in our court now. Up to us to find it." she answered with confidence and accountability.

"Well, when is the look gonna start? Because, say you can't find it and it starts adding up late fees for me?" I threw out the hypothetical situation.

"Oh, that could take up to a week."

"Can I come in and look for the book there?" I pleaded at her sudden statement of fact.

" Who is this person that wants to check out the Pecos Bill book?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We can't give that information out. But you are more than welcome to come look for the book."

"Thanks." I said standing hopelessly in my kitchen.

click.

J ran his fire truck across the floor and as he laid there, examining all it's parts he said:

"Hey, mom, if you call 9-1-1,, you're gonna get Richard's mom. (name change of friend he mentioned.)

"She's a detacher."

"Oh, yeh?" I said.

If the Dispatcher's for our community are that indifferent to our emergencies, than I am calling the President to request a Bureau or some kind of Law to be put in place to get a handle on these libraries.

*For kicks I checked out how much the old book I lost is going for on ebay: less than a dollar.

I can picture a glasses wearing librarian standing atop the curling ramp of our local library laughing. A very, very, evil laugh.

Check out books at your own risk, that's all I can say.

Super Sat. and Reflections of the Week

Saturday I woke up, checked my clock, and reveled in the fact that I had a few more minutes more to sleep before I had to be up and at 'em.

Closing my eyes I laid there in the warmth, a sigh-o-relief washing over me and then I started going through the mental list of To-Do's.

1. Family member baptism. doh. Sunday dress on a Saturday was not going to fly well with J. He struggles with this even on the Sabbath.

2.BBall game;

3.both events within an hour of eachother.

The relaxation turned to caculating time in my head.
Adding the amount of time it took to shower, do my hair/face, and get the baller ready for a church event and pack his bag for a game; subtracting a guesstimate at how long it would take to have our 'lil sweetie dunked in the font; multiplying the probability of not making the game on time against the lights on 17th street: I started to get ancy.

Cold footed child added to the equation of the day when he climbed under my covers and put his feet on my leg, plunging me into a freezing wake up call.

The shock made me conjure up all the things on the table: taxes, appointments, and well, you know.

Finding steely resolve to not start the day off hollering, I turned and rubbed noses, blew kitten breath into J's face, and faked happiness.

We snugged and laid there in the silence until a sound broke it.

"Is there a flood?"

"That was my stomache"." I said dryly.

"Does my manual digestion really sound like a FLOOD?" I asked myself.

That sealed the morning's chirpy start.

Miraculously the baptism convened with enough time for us to get to the game. Changing in the back of the car he tore off the shirt, replaced it with a short sleeved one he had to dig out of the hamper, and pulled on his jersey.

Once he started pulling off his trousers on 17th he was busting up. I was swirling through traffic simultaneously eyeing the digital time. I looked back to see him pinned by the seat belt.

It had locked him in place with his pants down. I had to slow down and laugh. He got his shorts on and then realized he had no other shoes but the black church shoes he'd worn to the Baptism.

"Mom," he whined at the prosect of having to walk into the gym in his shoes.

"Oh, at least you don't have to play the game in them like they did in the olden days." I lied.

"nobody will notice if you hussle in, trade those out for your bball shoes, and start practicing."

Which he did.

A cute friend of mine was there, along with her husband, who said: "Did you know it was her Bday today?" In a really sweet way.

"No I didn't!" I said and asked what she'd gotten.

"She hasn't opened all her presents yet." the husband said, smiling at her.

I was oozing jealousness. A man that bought more than one present, by himself, and wrapped them, too? Oh, geez.

"She'll probably take half of them back." he laughed and nudged her.

Eying my friend I said: "Does he not have good taste?"

She explained that it was only to get the right size, or the one coat hugged her arm too tight. etc. She rightly explained that it would be easier to just go together and she could pick out what she wanted, and get it right- the firts time.

After the shock of witnessing sincere affection I had to tell my friend that I was on team husband. If you can get a guy that will take the time to find a great gift, that he wants for his honey, man that is a great gift in and of itself. Granted, they have a passle of kids, could fall back into the routine of reality and efficiency. but.... wow.

The game came to a close. J. played great, and I was starved to eat the breakfast, and now lunch, that I'd missed.

Husband said: "Where do you want to go to eat?" to friend, wife.

"McDonalds or Taco Bell?" he gave her the choice. (they did have all the kids)
I had to smile. We all walked out of the gym when one of husband and wife's kids checked out j. and said: "Church shoes?"

"Awesome."

Sick Days

We have been enjoying some seriously cold temps here in Idaho. The poor teachers have had to keep the city kids inside during recess while the rural ones had to face being at home unattended.

Not a fun decision for superintendents, I am sure. However, it is really annoying when the weather, pent up children and flu season result with a sick child.

Mrs. F must be glad that she has one less child to occupy during recess, but I have had to make being home as awful as possible.

"Can't I be home sick and rest?" the tiny said as I drilled him with his homework.

"Homework still has to be done." ah, ha ha- he, heh, heh- ha, hah, hah!

I could barely stiffle the laughter as I swept, mopped, and vacuumed.

But the clock ticked away and turned time for my nap. Reminding the sick child that he would still be in school and that this is "quiet" time for me before he comes home is my ritual, I laid down on the couch and did some deep breathing.

Beneath the bright sunshine I basked as my muscles took in the oxygen. Just as the knots decided to unravel, Teeny was on me. Snuggling my cheeks, mugging on me, and hijacking my "down time".

The muscles clenched and sprang my body into the vertical position. I grabbed the canister vacuum, pulled it to the landing of the stairs and began vacuumming the dirt the city has thrown down on the ice skating rink outside our drive.

Sickie disappeared. As long as I was cleaning he was no where to be found. That was until I tried to make a phone call and talk with a friend. And like Batman, he was on the scene, smelling with his sixth sense that mom was excited to have her own time; littlest was wrapped around my leg like

You can only imagine the excitement I felt that he was not able to attend school today.