Dishin'

Tanner's first band concert at the school "holiday" party, which consisted of one song: "Jingle Bells." Feeling rather proud of his performance, he and a friend hailed their own encore, which was nixed by the instructor, but hey, nice effort!

Kalli dancing with her friends at the school party. She was a little shy to start, but quickly ramped up and jigged her way into the groovin' 200+ kid mosh pit.

This picture is worth a quick study. Notice, first, the staggered effect of Kate and her friends' height. Also notice the electronic equipment being used. These are sixth graders crashing a K-5th elementary school dance party. Their cell phones kick my cell phone's trash.

Tucker gettin' a kick out of the limbo.

Tanner and his good buddy Lincoln.

My sweet kids.

Three of the four little spawn at Snowflake Lane at Bell Square. Notice Tuck with no coat. Again.

Katelyn reminding me with a stern expression that she's still on hiatus from photo ops. My bad. :)

Notice here what Tucker is doing. Yes, my coatless third child is standing in a pool of water. Look at Kalli's expression. She's thinking Tuck's idea is ingenious. Fortunately, I nabbed her before she hit liquid!

FINALLY. Kalli wiggled her first tooth free a few weeks ago. She insisted we make a sticker that says, "I lost my first tooth today" so that, in case her mouth was closed, everyone she came in contact with during the day would know the good news.

I bought this hat in San Fran as a joke, to be donned by whatever child may be having a meltdown on any particular day, purely for my own entertainment. Tucker has claimed it his own and wears it whenever possible.

The Back Side of Santa

Santa and I admittedly didn't get off to a great start. Apparently there is some unspoken protocol that I(silly me) was completely unaware of. It seems that asking a Santa to pose for a picture with a six-year-old kid on a Christmas ship in the Puget Sound on a Monday night in December is unscrupulous. I apparently didn't read the fine print when I booked the cruise. Because when I did ask the Santa aboard our Argosy harbor cruise on Monday night to take a picture with Kalli, he glared at me. A full-blown Scrooge-glare. Completely unbecoming of a pudgy guy in crushed red velvet. Kalli apparently caught the nasty vibe Santa was throwing off. She took off like a shot. Hence, no cute Kalli/Santa picture to share with you. The best picture I could muster of the old guy was this one, from behind. Look at that cocky stance. He just thinks he's all that, doesn't he? :)


I didn't let the crotchety guy ruin our two-hour tour, however (which, incidentally, ended far better than poor Gilligan's trip. I still have a soft spot for Gilligan. Not so soft for the Skipper, however. He was such a whiner. And don't even get me started on Mr. Howell). The kids had a great time exploring the ship, doing crafts and taking brief stints on the sub-freezing deck. Tucker, bless his little heart, opted to leave his coat at home. His 40 lb. body didn't fare too well on the walk back to the car. I kissed his blue lips back to their regular color and he was all smiles by the time we hit the freeway.

Sean, whom I had somehow forgotten has intense motion sickness on boats, brought along his best friend for comfort, solace and diversion. Boy, I couldn't thank his iPhone enough!

Chillin'. Literally.

Me and my T-dog. He's my bud.

When the iPhone finally begged for a break, Katelyn took over the care of her seasick father. She's such a good girl...

Check out Tucker. The poor frozen little kidpop. Of course, Kalli doesn't have her coat on either. Apparently left it below deck. What's with my masochistic offspring?!

The Turkey Trot

First, much thanks to Deborah and Bryon for taking pics of my kids at last week's run. I would love to say the reason I have no pictures is because I was so busy helping Sean pull the entire event together that I was too busy to take any, but that would be an untruth. I so totally stink at actually using my camera when we go anywhere even remotely hectic. I think I have some social disorder involving fear of large groups and/or mental over-stimulation (this prognosis fits nicely into my self-proclaimed ADHD issues :).

The kids ran like little champs! Tanner took second in his age group for the 5k, Tucker hauled his skinny little booty through his first 5k without a single walk break, which his mother (that's me) would have very much appreciated since I ran with him and haven't pulled off a run more than two miles in length in over 18 months. I was weazin' like a Clampitt by the finish line. But we finished together, Tuck and I, and so therefore it was all worth it! Kate opted out of the race and instead manned the water station at mile two. I planted a big smoochy sweaty kiss on her as I ran by. Hee hee.

Kalli aggressively plowed her way through the 1k and, in her words, "finished last in the first group." Whatever that means. :)

Sean pulled off another amazing event coordination effort. There were almost 600 runners who participated, and the proceeds benefited the two local elementary school's PTSAs. Hopefully this will result in far fewer cookie dough/wrapping paper/magazine fundraisers in the future. I DETEST traditional fundraising ventures that don't involve things like llama racing or head shaving.

It's a good thing my little tribe is so cute, as they attempted a coup on my sanity for a good portion of the weekend that left me wondering what the cheapest flight to Poughkeepsie would cost. No one would ever think to look for me there. :)

Nite!

Kalli. All smiles.

I don't mean to brag, but look who is in the lead here. Yep. I still got it. :)

Tanner powering through. The boy's got some grit!

The Weekend News

Alas, November is nearing half completion and I am still writing October 2008 on everything. And I just realized I titled this blog "Weekend News" and its almost Wednesday of the next week. I think I'm inching toward senility; this aging thing bites.

Friday I had the chance to meet up with my good friend from college, Tami Smith. She's still as snappy and fun as ever. And she bought lunch, so that was a bonus. I'll buy next time, Tami. Just between all of you and me, it's actually a tactic I use to get people to hang out with me. I let them buy first, then they're sure to call again because I owe them lunch. That ensures I have a friend for at least two lunch dates before I scare them off and never see them again. :)

Tami is one of those brave people who will ask the lady at the next table to take a picture for her. Then I go to Tami's blog and steal the picture. Because I'm one of those people whose too chicken to ask the lady at the next table to take a picture for me!

Saturday was Tanner's last soccer game (boo/hooray). The seasons get longer as the kids get older. I intentionally don't practice soccer with him because if he gets really good he moves up to select soccer, which is ten months out of the year. It's embarrassing to admit that I encourage mediocrity in my children, but my defense is that over time I might develop hostile feelings tward a coach who gets to spend more time with my kid than I do.

Tanner had a great season. He's a plucky little forward and is quick on his feet. Kudos to Dale, Susan and Sommer for joining us for the last game.

Saturday afternoon Sean and I took the kids to Gig Harbor to watch the first high school playoff game. We had dinner at Red Robin, which I think has become a family favorite due to the bottomless fries and freaky wall apparel. Tucker can sit for long periods and stare at all the wacky pictures. We usually find something to chat about if conversation runs dry. Which, if you know my kids, isn't very often.

The real reason for driving through Seattle area traffic and well over an hour to Gig Harbor was three-fold. My boys love football, I've always secretly wanted to pay a toll of $4 to cross the Narrows Bridge, and two of my three Mia Maids were participating at the game. Not IN the game, mind you, as that would be somewhat distressing for me to watch. I have issues with girls in helmets (it's a sensitive subject :).

The football game was great in that it seemed to provide a much needed anger outlet for a large number of pubescent boys in white spandex, as well as the opportunity to watch Tori, our sports med tech in training, and Meg, our cutie-pants cheerleader, in action. I was actually close enough to the field to overhear some of the comments and dialogue. See picture captions below.

"Hey. You. Suck it up and get back out there."

"It's still attached to your body so it can't hurt that bad. Get back out there."

"Hey, get back here and drink your Gatorade. Then get back out there."

"Rah rah rah, kick 'em in the jaw..." Wow. I can't believe they're still recycling that same old cheer.

I love these girls. They're good kids and a truckload of fun. Incidentally, they reminded me last night that I'm old enough to be their mother. At times like this I have an overpowering urge to put them in a headlock and give them a giant noogie.

Sadly I just realized I haven't taken pictures of my kids in, like, two whole weeks. I'm now crippled with guilt and must go find some chocolate. Nite.

Warriors

I love books. All kinds of books (except shmucky romance novels. Oh, and books written by people who shouldn't be writing books). I also love when my kids get caught up in a good book and can't tear themselves away. These are the times when I do the proverbial mommy-melt and give in to really late bedtimes and an occasional skipped chore or two. I understand. I can't put a book down now and then myself.

An author by the name of Erin Hunter (an ominously applicable surname for an author of this particular genre) has somehow managed to write and publish 20 books about the tumultuous lives of four clans of wild cats. Yes, it's true. Through a very complicated version of meow-language undecipherable by humans, these cats fight for dominance and territory in a relatively small area of woodland. Fortunately, the feline leader of each clan has a full set of nine lives. Naturally.

The reason I am blogging about this particular series of books is twofold. First, I love that my boys are reading. And not only have my boys been sucked into this surreptitious series but they've begun writing their own versions of this fantasy feline world. The boys have both created a large cast of character cats that I've enjoyed immensely. My favorite two are aptly named Poppypelt and Squeezie. They've been assigned their own personalities and Tanner has even created his own scoring system for loyalty, speed and strength for his growing clans of cats. Aahh, education + a huge serving of creativity = happy mommy.

Second, the theme of the series has become more of a reality at our house recently. Let me explain. In her books, Erin Hunter delves deeply into anthropomorphism (when an animal character is prescribed human characteristics). For example, the back cover of the fourth book reads: "...[There are many problems] facing the young warrior in these blazing summer months, as he struggles to handle sinister omens, an apprentice with a shocking secret, and a devastated Clan leader who is a shell of her former self."

When I first read this, I chuckled. "...as he struggles to handle a sinister omen?" Is cat kibble dropped carelessly into its water bowl considered a sinister omen for a cat? Or this one: "...an apprentice with a shocking secret..." Like the apprentice cat doesn't want anyone to know it actually enjoys licking its butt or regurgitating large hairballs? That kind of shocking secret? And can a feline Clan leader really feel devastation or fully realize she's been reduced to a "shell of her former self?" Could this be due to ringworm or a poor diet?

So after laughing off all of the anthropomorphism-ing Hunter throws at her felines, I went back to my simple, oblivious life. Until two weeks ago, when I found a dead bird on our garage stairs. A sinister omen indeed. I didn't realize our own beloved house cat, Lincoln, had a shocking secret: he's a murderer. A few days later a dead and bloody rabbit appeared on our front step. This is where I, rather than the cat, felt devastation. But the next day Lincoln landed himself in the laundry room for several days with a case of the pukes and kitty runs (yes, diarrhea). He lost at least a pound or two, becoming a shell of his former self. Even his kitty cheeks looked a bit sunken. His devastation came with a trip to the vet, a few shots in the rump and a round of de-worming.

So I stand corrected. But for the obvious differences, like tails and recurring hairball issues, cats are freakishly like humans. Struggles, nasty little secrets, devestation and moral collapse are apparently universal. I think I'll go hug my cat now. Goodnight!


THE WARRIOR CAT, LINCOLN
THE PREY: DEAD RABBIT

THE WARRIOR: Fat and happy once more

God Bless America

I am far from politically-minded. I follow politics slightly better than I follow professional cricket rankings (cricket as in the sport, not the bug. I'm not aware there's any organized bug ranking system out there). That being said, because our country currently suffers on many fronts, I have followed this year's elections closer than I have those in the past. It's not surprising how seedy and skewed some of the details have been, not to mention the media's blatantly biased slant on issues that clearly promote their own motives. It is deflating at best to think that many voters followed their noses without doing any legitimate research or employing any personal reflection at all.

But I'm not that upset. When it's all said and done, I know that God is still in charge. And although we have our agency to do what we will here on earth, I believe in the goodness of our nation and the precepts upon which it was founded to begin with.

My immensely talented friend Thelma posted the following on her blog, and I had to quote her here because I could not have said it remotely as eloquently as she did, but I echo her sentiments word for word:

"I’m glad to live in a country where there’s a transfer of power with no guillotine involved. I’m glad to be in a country where everyone can vote…and a lot of people did. I’m glad to be in a country where the loser in a campaign gives a gracious concession speech and is applauded by the winner. I’m glad to be in a country where a race formerly thought sub-human in some corners is now represented in the highest office in the land. I don’t agree with his politics but like every other American who doesn’t agree, I’ll give him a chance. I’ll be free to have my own opinions and I’ll be free to speak freely about those opinions. And I’ll keep voting. What a country!"

God Bless America.

Halloween

My motley crew, dog included. Although his lady bug costume really softens the frightening effect of the witch/girly pirate/Iron Man/hobo ensemble, don't you think?

Tanner wasn't as excited about the actual candy as he was about the amount of it. He fastidiously categorized and counted it all and came to the conclusion that there were some definite outlyers. I sheepishly had to ask what an "outlyer" was. I now know. If you don't, then look it up. :)

Kalli, Stella, and Mr. Fuzzy, the catepillar. Notice the excessive amount of face painting that Kalli accumulated during her class fall festival. She does love her body art!

Nostalgia and Phone Books

I was tagged recently by the two Heathers. The assignment was to post your fourth picture from your fourth photo file on your hard drive. Here it is. My sweet kids are intermingled with the adorable offspring of one of my favorite people in the world, Sara Holdman.

Sara and I were college friends and I can honestly say she is my longest standing friend to-date. I didn't make much effort to maintain childhood friendships due primarily to the fact that I was raised like a gypsy child. For me, the friendship cycle went something like this: 1. make friends, 2. move away, 3. miss them, 4. write them two or three letters, 5. make new friends, and 6. forget about the old ones. Don't get me wrong, the gypsy life suited me well. I'm a self-diagnosed ADD casualty; therefore, maintaining really anything for longer than six days was difficult. And to those of you who have known me longer than six days, I love and admire you. Your efforts have not gone unnoticed. :)

Back to my Sara. We lived a mile apart for several years after we were married and reared a few of our babies together. Sara has always been one of the sweetest, kindest, funniest-without-even-knowing-it people that I know. I miss her terribly.

When we were in college together, we took a road trip with our friend Julia to Colorado to visit a guy I was dating at the Air Force Academy. The trip was a bit stressful for Sara, as she wasn't much into traveling. The first night in CO, Julia and I decided it would be fun to go downtown and hit a popular dance club. Sara was visibly stressed out by this idea. And I apparently pushed her "overload" button by razzing her about it, because she grabbed the closest thing, the Greater Metro Denver Yellow Pages, and hurled it at my unsuspecting head. Due to my superhuman cat-like reflexes I successfully dodged the book, but was admittedly shaken by the ordeal, as Sara is a tough one to ruffle. (As an aside, Julia and I spent most of the time driving to and from Colorado ribbing Sara about her now-husband, Willie. For example, we assigned names alphabetically to their 26 projected children. She didn't really like that part of the trip, either :).

Sean, the kids and I are going to Utah for Thanksgiving and I can't wait to see her! The good news is, Sara just moved to a new home in Midway and is still in the process of unpacking. I'm just hoping she hasn't unpacked the phone books yet. My reflexes are nothing like they used to be. :) I love you, Sara!

Mombulance

I'm a relatively attentive mother. I've tried to be there to encourage my kids when necessary and to kiss away the hurts when life (or a treacherous sidewalk crack) has dealt them a spiteful blow. And what I'm finding is that this new stage of life, known perhaps only to me as the post "minute-to-minute-mothering" phase, has reduced me to the allegorical ER doc with an empty ER.

As completely exasperating as it was at times, the years of constantly filling the needs of my closely-birthed fourfold litter suited me in the sense that I was almost constantly needed. And apparently I need to be needed. That makes me sound pathetically needy (I am aware of the blatant overuse of the root word "need" here), but I'm not so needy that I can't admit to my neediness. Did I miss any variation of the word "need?" I think not.

I digress. My point is simply that when I have the opportunity to fill a (you guessed it) NEED, I'm simply elated. Sadly, the obvious needs of my progeny have dissapated, so I have to create my own opportunities. A few examples:

Example #1: When my boys are upstairs playing one of their endless games of football/soccer/kickball/baseball, they often pretend to be members of some professional team, which means in order to be believable they will occasionally have to fake an injury. Enters the Mombulance. Literally. Sirens blaring (okay, so I sound more like a manatee being smothered than an emergency vehicle), I race to the injured player and pin him down and demand to know where the boo-boo is. This is obviously mortifying for a professional athlete, but I remain undettered. They hurriedly point to some random body part, at which time I smother it with kisses. I then allow play to continue.

Example #2: My girls often have some unexplained malady at bedtime, usually having to do with the head/ankle/butt/elbow part of their body (really any part will do; any excuse to postpone sleep). For a few years, I felt pretty crafty giving them a small amount of juice in a medicinal measuring cup, claiming that my snake oil cures all aches. Tonight I caught Kate in the kitchen throwing back 2 tablespoons of Children's Motrin. "Hey Kate, since when do you self-medicate?" I asked, feeling slightly un-needed. "I actually have a headache," she said. "Your juice won't cut it tonight."

But as much as they don't like to admit it at times, they still need me. They still need me to send them out the door with a hug, a kiss and an occasional pat on the backside, they still need me to tease them into a smile, they still need me to sing too loudly and off-key and to do my Lydia impressions. And they need me to be needy; it keeps their little lives in balance. Or at least that's what I tell myself. :)

Tanner and his football stadium made out of dominoes.

Tucker just had to see if he'd fit. And it was working out surprisingly well until he whacked his head. :)

This is what happens when Dad and Kate both need the downstairs bathroom in the morning and Kate is too tired to go back upstairs to do her hair.

We love Tucker. And his current obsession with salmon.

And I don't even know what is going on here. Except that I almost ended up on the floor when she hit me full-force. :)

My Hero

Today is October 25th, 2008. Three years ago today, my sweet little nephew, Curran Todd Pace was born to my sister Becca and her husband Todd. At three months of age, Curran was diagnosed with lukemia and spent the better part of the next seven months in the hospital, at which time he passed away quietly in the midst of his loving family.

Curran is my hero. I think of him every day. This little guy never spoke a word. He never offered sage advice, never uttered a comforting word to soothe a hurting heart, never told a joke to coerce a smile and never complained about his many discomforts.

I learned so much from a baby boy I only met a few times. I learned that the eyes are not only the window to the soul, but the porthole through which strength drawn from a Higher Power is passed on to those whom we love. I learned that comfort can come from the tender touch of a tiny hand that knows much of pain. I learned that a smile (and man, could this little guy smile!) can say so many things all at once that words can never capture, and that true happiness is found amidst the pain. And I learned that our lives touch the lives of others every day, in ways we will never, in this life, comprehend.

Curran, you touched my life. And your wonderful, beautiful saint of a mother is a constant model of dignity and compassion and I am so grateful she shared you with me through her words and her tears. We will never, never forget you, Curran, our "Smiling Hero" and Superman. I love you.

Every year we send our love to the skies; Kalli exlaimed emphatically today that you must get a lot of mail on your birthday! (Tanner's balloon escaped a little early :).

WE LOVE YOU!

Leaning Tower of Laundry

Heather Smith and I had a friendly little competition today: to see who had more laundry to fold. She totally cheated by putting cute kids on her pile (in an effort to swing the vote in her favor), but I do believe my pile KICKS HER PILE'S TRASH. You be the judge. :)

Powell Pals

Glad to see all the Houser-related males (minus Sean and Rolan) had a great time in Powell this last weekend. See you at Thanksgiving! (Thanks for the pics off of Facebook, Dave.)

Nice hat, Jamin...I think you've been spending a little too much time in May-hee-co. :)

Who is this and why are they wearing a helmet?

I won't even ask.

"Security 308, We Have A Hostile White Female..."

It's 12:30am and I just got off the phone with my sister Becca. She had me rolling.

Apparently a few nights ago Becca had dropped by the college where she's taking a few classes to pick up notes from a friend. She parked her car in a permitted spot that she didn't exactly have a permit for and walked down the sidewalk, never leaving sight of her car. She retrieved the notes from her friend and as she was walking back to her car, noticed that a parking lot attendant was on the scene.

After a brief verbal exchange, it became clear the parking lot attendant, a short woman of Hispanic descent, was not to be swayed; Becca was getting a ticket.

Becca went postal. She let the woman know in no uncertain terms how she felt about being ticketed in a way that only the Becca we know and love can. Exasperated, Becca got in her car and the lady beat on her window, saying, "Unless you're willing to face harsher consequences, you'll roll down your window." Becca rolled down the window and let her have it again (verbally), and the lady pulled out her walkie talkie and called in reinforcements: "Security 308, we have a hostile white female," repeating it several times. HA! I love it! I don't believe security ever showed up and Becca did get a ticket, but at least she was able to vocally vent her frustrations in person rather than keeping it bottled up all the way home. That's just not healthy. :)

Here's how Becca and I decided the rest of our family (a fiesty bunch) would have handled the situation. I hope none of the siblings are offended. :)

Father Con, with his best poker face, would have rattled off some legal jargon, then offered to rent the parking lot attendant one of his homes.

Mother Gloria would have commandeered a tank and mowed down all of the "permit parking only" signs, then demanded to see the woman's green card.

Javan would have removed her tires and put her car on blocks.

Jamin would have managed to get some free stuff out of the whole ordeal.

Judah would have covertly found out where she lives and thrown a flaming bag of poo at her front door.

Anna would have beat her up.

Becca...well, we know what Becca did. :)

Debbie would have given her the stink eye and held a really long grudge.

Tami would have diplomatically heard her out and then driven away, without the ticket.

(Notice I conveniently left myself off the list. You can do that when it's your blog.)

I love my family. :)

Blood and Guts Pie

One of the greatest joys of parenting is derived from productive, creative play. Adding the fact that through this afternoon's play, dinner preparations were also completed, I was one truly giddy mom!

Now some people may refer to this dish as traditional lasagna. Oh no, my friends. Not during the spooking season. Below is the recipe for one ghoulishly delish dinner that Kalli, Tucker and I threw together this afternoon. It's called "Blood and Guts Pie," aptly named by my offspring.

Ingredient #1: Boogers and guts (aka ricotta and parmesan cheese)

Ingredient #2: Shaved skin (shredded mozerella)

Ingredient #3: Scrambled heart and liver (hamburger)

Ingredient #4: Blood (marinara sauce)

Ingredient #5: Pressed bones (lasagna noodles)

Oila! The finished, pre-cooked "human parts" casserole. Mmmm. Can't you just taste it?

And dinner is done!!!!