loose screws are the least of my problems...

The dreaded call home from school. It always makes me panic because it never means something good.

"Mom, my glasses broke," my daughter informed me. "Okay, that's not too bad." I asked her where her contacts were and she told me which bathroom and which cupboard they were in. I was fairly confident I could drop them off without too much problem.

I got to the school office and told the secretary that I needed to drop off my daughter's contacts. She waited for me to give them to her. "That would be easier, but you'll have to call her to come to the office," I told the secretary. She decided rather than try to figure me out, she'd just have Anna come to the office.

Anna arrived and I handed her a sack full of contact cases. Yes there were contacts in the bathroom. In fact there were several of them, all containing contacts. Apparently my children didn't realize that disposable contacts meant that when you were finished wearing them, you threw them away. She dug through the bag. "Nope, none of these are mine," she had the nerve to tell me, handing the bag back to me.

I had gotten every last contact, so there was nothing else I could do---and I knew Anna was blind without her glasses. "Let me see your glasses," I told her in frustration. "These aren't broken!" I exclaimed trying to see what the problem was. "The screw is gone," she pointed to the loose arm. That was nothing a little tape couldn't fix. A couple of minutes later she was all set to go back to class. I could pick up a screw later.

"It turns out I just have a screw loose," I told the secretary as I turned to leave, taking the bag of contacts with me. They would come in handy later that night at dinner when I asked the kids if any of them could define "disposable" for me...

Am I interrupting something?

Arriving at the Goodwill drop off, loaded to the hilt (with everything for the boy scout yard sale, they had cancelled for the last time) I went to the side door like the sign instructed. Going inside, I asked if this was where I could drop off my stuff. The man said he was busy (he was reading---maybe it was his break time), but a lady groaned, got off her chair and followed me back outside.

She held the door for me and took the first bag of stuff then disappeared inside for about five minutes. I was about to go inside to look for her when she finally reappeared. "Oh, you have more stuff?" she asked. With my trunk open she couldn't have helped but notice all the stuff piled into the back of my car.

I handed her another bag and again she disappeared inside. Guessing she must have been sorting and pricing each individual item as I waited, I began to get impatient. It had been two bags and ten minutes, and I still had about twenty bags left. I started piling bags by the side of the building when the helpful lady returned. "Oh, there's still more," she commented with a sigh. A man appeared telling me that I couldn't stack anything outside because if it got wet, they would just have to throw it away, then went back inside to sit down. Thanks.

Finally, I had to leave to pick up my kids from school. I had successfully handed the lady at the door two more bags but things were not looking good. No longer caring, I tossed bags from my car over towards the building. The man reappeared to tell me yet again that I couldn't do that. It was enough.

"Actually, I don't care if they get thrown away, or you sell them," I told him as friendly as I could while throwing bags from my car. He must have believed me because he returned with several friends from inside the building and within minutes my whole car was unloaded. Amazing, they had been in there the whole time, so sorry to disturb them.

I smell Oranges!

It was almost noon and my husband was coming home for lunch. I look forward to the quiet time we get during the day without kids. I eyed the oranges on the counter (a gift from Brian's dad when we visited last weekend) and felt guilty as I peeled a couple to eat with our lunch. We haven't eaten oranges at our house for years. Not that Brian and I don't like oranges---we actually enjoy them. Our daughter Anna, however, has issues with how they smell.

It started out mild: she would leave the room when we ate them, then refuse to be at the kitchen table. Then occasionally she would come home in tears from school. Thinking something was horribly wrong I rushed to ask her what had happened. "The girl next to me ate oranges with her lunch." It spiraled downward after that.

We ate our oranges at lunch feeling giddy in our deceit---thinking we'd really gotten away with something big. When Anna came home from school that day, she crinkled up her nose and asked disgustedly, "Who's been eating oranges?" and stomped outside until things aired out a bit more.

It made me seriously wonder. When did I lose control, or did I ever have it... I always swore I would never let my kids make me rearrange my life for their whims and quirky behaviors. Yet I am fairly certain at one point we used to even drink orange juice---but it is becoming just a fading memory. I guess I decided it was just easier to do without than deal with the drama, but I have to draw the line somewhere. Oranges are one thing and seem innocent enough, but where will it end?

All Aboard the Crazy Train

Nicholas' band Yttrium played as part of the "Concert in the Park" performance last month. This is a short clip of each of the songs they played. My favorites were "Louie, Louie" where Nicholas sang lead with Alex. And also, "Crazy Train" where Nicholas traded his drum sticks for an electric bass guitar. Since he is usually hidden behind the drum set, it was fun to see him up front for a change, and he can ROCK! Thanks to the success of this concert, they were asked to play for several additional gigs in the coming months.

Would you like a piece of candy, little girl?

Two things we always tell our kids: don't go in the street and don't take can't candy from strangers.

We were at the homecoming parade yesterday to watch two of our kids in the marching band. All the kids ran into the street---sometimes just in front of the oncoming floats, to pick up candy thrown by strangers. Hummm.

Is it supposed to make me feel better?

It's "Safety in Our Schools" week. The kids came home and told me they had a "Code Orange" drill during class that day.

Heather said after the code was announced, she immediately stood up, gathered her things and proceeded to the door. "What are you doing?" her teacher demanded. "Code Orange, Bomb threat, I'm evacuating," she informed him. "Oh."

Do I think it odd that Heather was the only one in her class that knew what a "Code Orange" was? No. She saw the list of codes a few years ago sitting on a teacher's desk and memorized it. She likes to memorize things, so it doesn't surprise me at all. I do find it odd that none of the teachers know what to do when various codes are announced.

For example. Sarah's teacher locked the door and closed the blinds, as soon as "Code Orange" was called. Which would have been very helpful if it had been a real bomb threat. However, to his credit it was better than my son's teacher---she didn't even pause, but continued on teaching. Finally the school police officer had to come and make them leave the building

For some reason, Heather was once again one of a few students taken during the drill and sent to a special room. These students, if not noticed missing by their teachers, "perish" from the pretend disaster. Last year Heather "died" in a pretend fire when her teacher failed to report her missing. This year, however, her teacher did notice her missing. Most likely he was looking for her to find out when they were supposed to finish evacuating and return to their classroom.

I am not comforted by these drills. If these are improvements from previous years, in the case of a real disaster, my children will never make it out of the school alive---except Heather that is.

It's pumpkin time!

If the shoes fits wear it, if the shoe doesn't fit...wear it anyway.

We were eating dinner the other night. Sarah, my sixteen year old surprised us by speaking: "Why are you wearing my shirt?"she asked Anna, who is eleven.

Anna shrugged her shoulders, "It was in my drawer." That explained everything. So, Heather, who is five foot eight, looked across the table and asked, "Why are you wearing my jeans?" to Sarah who is only five foot three inches tall.

Sarah looked sheepish, admitting that they had been way too long, and she had to keep pulling them up all day. "Uh, they were in my drawer?" she answered---everyone immediately turning to look at me.

So, fine. I was distracted one day while putting away laundry. But they were missing the main point. First, when you open your drawer and see something that you don't recognize, or isn't yours in there, it doesn't mean you are obligated to wear it. And second, if you put on a pair of pants, pulling them up to your arm-pits and they still don't fit, DON'T WEAR THEM! It's not that hard, really, is it?

But if it makes them feel better to blame the person who washed, folded and put away the clothes (albeit in the wrong place) I'm okay with that. As long as they realize they are the geniuses who spent the day pulling their pants up...

The small things

The car in front of me stopped at the drop off in front of the school. Several kids got out of the car, if possible, each one looking more sullen and lifeless than the one before.

"That must be the happiness mobile," I commented to my daughter Anna. Seeing the blank expressions on the kids' faces and the slump of their shoulders as they shuffled towards the school, Anna looked at me for an explanation.

"That car must suck all the joy and life out of everyone who rides in it---not allowing any happiness to leave," I surmised. How else could I explain the children exiting the vehicle in front of me?

Then I suddenly realized: That was probably exactly what my own kids looked like getting out of my car! I panicked. "Anna---Smile!" I commanded. "When you get out of the car exude happiness!"

"What does exude mean?" she asked. I told her that she could think of it like radiating happiness from every pore. "You want me to sweat happiness?" she asked giving me a look. (Pretty much, whatever it takes so I don't have to feel like I have sucked all the joy from your soul...)

I'm not sure my pep talk helped much, but I did get a lopsided smile from her when she got out of the car. Which is better than nothing!

Small victories

Family prayer, sigh. I can't really complain, I mean all of the kids show up at 8:45pm each night. It's just that no matter how many times we ask our oldest daughter, Sarah to speak a little louder when she prays, we get no improvement. I know, I sound like I'm being critical but take last week for example.

It was Sarah's night to pray and she shoved her face so far down into the couch that we honestly couldn't hear a word she was saying. In fact, she got up and left while the rest of the family stayed kneeling around the couch. Finally we heard her bedroom door slam and looked up to realize she had not only finished praying, but left! We decided that we definitely had to do something...

My husband got an idea and could barely wait until this week when it was Sarah' s turn to pray again. As we finished reading scriptures and kneeled down, he casually asked whose night it was. When Sarah said it was her night, he kept a straight face and handed her the microphone he had set up next to the couch. And luckily everyone, including Sarah busted out laughing.

"Great, amplified muttering," Heather commented. But amplified muttering or not, at least we knew when she was finished praying.

Something is amiss...

Some friends and I run in the park behind the high school every morning. Now that school is back in session, we undercover mom's are back in business. We are naturally nosy and involved in everyone else's business: who are those kids not in class, why are those kids going into the woods, etc. If you think about it, we really are perfect for our self-appointed task.

Today we saw a couple of boys slink off into the woods behind the park after school had started along with a very strong, bitter smell. After our first lap, we called OJ (Officer Jamie) to let her know the situation. We have called her a lot in the past, in fact her number is on our speed dial.

We continued exercising and one friend commented that sin was stupid. "Yah, and those kids aren't too bright either," I added. I mean if you think about it, they had a car and were skipping school to smoke pot. So, they drove to the park behind the high school filled with people.

"Plus, they could have at least picked a decent day to skip," another friend added, referring to the light drizzle and cold weather. The nasty dope smoke just hung in the air and coated the back of my throat and tongue, burning my nose.

As we finished our last lap a second police car pulled into the parking lot. Usually we liked to stick around and watch the drama unfold. Today we hurried to our cars to drive away. We were covered with incriminating smoke and didn't want to take any chances that the dog in the back of the newly arriving police car would sniff in our direction. I tried not to let my tires squeal on the way out of the parking lot as I raced home to take a shower. Another day of successful undercover work...

The truth hurts.

I remember having to take one of my little kids with me to a doctor appointment. When the doctor came in, my child rummaged through my pile of clothes, and ran around the room waving my underwear. "Look, my mommy wears WHITE underwear." It's safe to say that I have been embarrassed by my children.

Owing me, you would think they would cut me a little slack. Not so. I walked through the high school parking lot to deliver a cell phone and pencil bag to my kids, which they had forgotten this morning. Imagine my surprise when, instead of gratitude, I was met with embarrassment and panicked looks for me to quickly leave.

It was true that I hadn't expected other kids to still be sitting in their cars---the couple in the car next to my kids stopped making out to see what parent was walking by...but it wasn't like I was wearing my pajamas. And it wasn't like I always go hang out by their car in the morning (I did drop off a forgotten lunch last week). So, feeling the sting of rejection and knowing that I was no longer the "cool mom," I took my wounded pride and limped back to the park to exercise.

I often do things to embarrass my children, but it is always on purpose. It is much harder to find that my kids are embarrassed by me. I don't know how to feel about that. Whether to go back tomorrow in my bathrobe and slippers carrying a large bottle of deodorant to give them, forget about the whole thing or to cry. Gotta love them.

No flash photography allowed

Heather came home from school in a tizzy. "I have finally figured out why they don't allow cameras at school," she informed me.

Well I know the answer to that one. Seemed simple enough anyway, they don't want kids taking pictures of tests and giving the answers to other kids. But this was Heather, so okay, I'll bite.

"If we had cameras at school, someone might take pictures of the food and send it to the health department," she declared with disgust.

They must have had a bad lunch today at school. Remind me not to let my kids have cameras at the dinner table...

What's on your mind?

My son was composing music last night on the computer. He let me listen to what he'd written and it was amazing. No, I mean really mind boggling, as in, he shouldn't be able to be doing this kind of stuff, amazing. "So, this music is just in your head?" I asked him. "Well, Yah," he acted like it was obvious.

Hey, that kind of stuff is not in MY head. It made me stop and think. What exactly is going on in my head? No, really. I'm not joking. Thinking about it I came up with Lists. I have files and files of lists in my brain. Lists of things I need to do, buy, save, clean, etc. You name it, I have a list filed away about it.

I guess I figured that was how everyone else's brain worked. Not so. I asked my daughter Heather what was in her brain. "The periodic table," she replied. Okay. I wouldn't have guessed that. So now I have another list started, the things people think about...fascinating!

So, what's in YOUR brain!