Two Letters Make All the Difference

After pulling some of the nipples to Baby Girl's bottles out of the dishwasher, I noticed that some of them were looking pretty rough and could probably be cut from the roster. Later that day, I called down to the playroom where The Boy was playing with his beloved trains and told him that we needed to do some errands. Since he thrives on schedules and sequencing, he asked where we were going and I told him: the post office, the bank, and Target, so that we could get some new nipples for the baby's bottles. I told him that he was allowed to pick one train to bring along as "company."
While putting the baby in her carseat, I heard him down there talking with his trains:

OK, I have to go out now, but I can take one of you with me. I think that I'll take James so he can come to Target to get nibbles for the bottles so the baby can eat.

The Return of The Native

Hail, Hail the gang's all here,
Aren't you glad we're all here,
Aren't you glad we're all here . . .

Oh happy day, the huz has made it safely back home! After about 24 straight hours of traveling (including time changes), Rob straggled in to Chez Langan in the wee smalls, tired and unshaven, but looking none the worse for wear. Luckily, he didn't have far to go in order to see the children -- they were huddled in a soporific pile of limbs on his side of the bed. ("Move it and lose it" is one of our many mottos).
Since Rob had so wisely taken the day after his return off from work, I was able to sit with some coffee and listen to tales from Moldova, while admiring all the digital pictures on the computer. I heard about Yuri, their mini-bus driver, who drove them around like he was being pursued by the devil; their tour of the winery that is in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most wine in the world; the one Moldovan doctor who was very friendly but had a stern appearance, thus earning the nickname of "KGB Man"; the little old women who spend their days sweeping the sidewalks and streets with brooms made out of sticks; their banquet in the Republican Palace; the beauty of the country and the extreme friendliness of the people. All in all, he had a wonderful, memorable trip.
And I am so happy that he had a good trip. Really. I am. But I had to try so hard not to let him have an earful of all of the things that went awry while he was gone. Who wants to be welcomed home with a litany of the "poor-me's." It always happens, though, and it's something I hate about myself. I count it as a character flaw. Instead of being gracious and grace-full, in the truest sense, I have to be a bee-yotch and try to make him pay, just a little, for being gone. And I was the person who talked him into going in the first place! So how messed up is that?
Next year, the group is going to Tajikistan for their mission, and while Rob hasn't decided if he's going, I'd better start working on my attitude now.

PS: He did bring back some rocking souvenirs, though. Can't wait to try the Moldovan champagne at Thanksgiving, and I am strangely intrigued by a gift that was given to him called "Balsam Misterios." He was told that if he was feeling tired or "down," that a few sips would restore his vigor! Some of the ingredients: vanilla, ginseng, "23 species of medicinal plants," caffeine, and a 45% alcohol content! Move over Nyquil, the Moldovans have something better.

We've Got Spirit, How 'Bout You?

There's nothing like a passel of cousins to take the kids' minds off of another weekend without dear old Dad (and to keep me from losing whatever shred of patience I had left). Rob's sister, Marguerite, and her husband, Jason, came down from New York this weekend with their children, and, as they say in Pride and Prejudice (which I just watched while on the treadmill this morning), it was a "charming diversion." Their three children are fairly close in age to my own, and they play very well together, so it is always with eager anticipation that Older Girl and The Boy await a visit from Sweet Pea, Little Man, and Doll Baby.
Since both Sweet Pea and Older Girl are currently obsessed with all things equine, the children watched Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron and were then inspired to adapt the script into a play for the enjoyment of all. Older Girl and Sweet Pea made tickets and promotional flyers that could be found in all the rooms of the house, and they also came up with some creative costumes. They used their Wonder Twin powers (form of . . . Bossy Older Sisters) to convince Little Man to wear Older Girl's cowgirl Halloween costume, which, while possessing a pretty authentic sheriff's badge and hat, also had the disadvantage of a skirt that Little Man was not too sure about. But he was a good sport and he wore the skirt proudly, pretending it was a set of chaps, and the girls whinnied around him with tails made of scarves tucked into the back waistbands of their pants. I'm not really sure about the plot of "Spirit" the movie, but I thought the play was very avant garde with no talking but a lot of prancing, leaping, and then collapsing into forlorn scarfy heaps at the feet of the skirted sheriff.
They played like this for two days, with only a few easily managed disagreements.
It's something I love to see, and I hope that we can keep nurturing this bond among all the cousins. I hope to see many more plays before they all get too big and too "cool" to do things like that. I know that day is right around the corner, the day when the girls won't even try to convince Little Man to wear skirt-chaps because there will be no play in the offing, but until then I'll just enjoy the show.

Halloween Already?

Halloween is over for us. "What?" you may ask, "Halloween isn't until Tuesday, October 31st."
Well, in most communities you would be correct to assume that, but here in lovely North Whitehall Township, we trick-or-treat from 6-8 pm on the closest Friday before Halloween. I've heard various reasons for this policy (It won't be on a school night. It's safer for the kids, people will know when to expect them) none of which seem particularly compelling. I even tend to laugh at the "school night" argument since most kids are out late with extracurricular activities anyway. And as for the "it's safer because people will know when to expect the kids," haven't people managed for years to plan accordingly for a holiday that comes every October 31st? The curfew I agree with -- no one wants a masked teenager showing up for candy at 11 pm. That's not trick-or-treating, that's robbery. But otherwise, I say leave the trick-or-treating for the real day. I'm a holiday purist.

That being said, the kids had a blast and they were so darn cute! Even the coats I made them wear didn't bother them. This was the first year that The Boy was 100% on board with the whole idea of Halloween, and his excitement was contagious. I loved his trick-or-treating pitch at the door. It went something like: "Trick-or-treat! I need candy!" But my favorite part was his departure from every house when he said: "Thanks for the candy. Love you, Bye!" Amen, little buddy. I'm lovin' the people who give me candy, too.

Happy Halloween to all, and to all a Good Night . . .

Try It, You'll Like It

I should be going to sleep, but I thought I'd play along first. Borrowed this from Barb, who got it from Esther, who got hers from ukok, and so on.

The object is to highlight the things that you have done. And then, if you are like me, check out how much you still haven't done.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said “I love you” and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game (and survived the crush afterwards)
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne (let's say tipsy)
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children (raising them still - does that count?)
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Touched a stingray
110. Broken someone’s heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Touched a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad
135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146. Dyed your hair
147. Been a DJ
148. Shaved your head
149. Caused a car accident
150. Saved someone’s life

Thursday Thirteen #1

Thanks to 4andcounting for turning me on to this little gem!

Thirteen Things about driving in the Lehigh Valley that make my blood pressure rise1. When the sign says "This Lane Ends," it means that the lane you are in is going to NOT BE THERE anymore. You should plan ahead and think about merging NOW, instead of just drifting into the other lane when you realize that you are now driving on the shoulder of the road. 2. The left lane if for passing. Passing, not sightseeing. 3. It's OK if you don't want to use your signal, I'm psychic! 4. Tailgating is SO not cool, especially if you are so close that I can't see your headlights in my rearview mirror. The rate limiting step is the traffic in front of me, folks, and around here there is always traffic in front of me. 5. The purpose of the on-ramps for Rt. 22 is to actually get on the highway, not to come to a dead stop at the yield sign. And the people who are already "lucky" enough to be on 22 need to move into the left lane so that we can merge. You know who you are. 6. Please pick a speed and run with it. If you choose fast, then commit and put the hammer down. If you choose slow, that's fine too, but don't taunt me with the speed up/slow down game. I might start to think you are drunk. 7. Don't blow past me on the right, even after I have signaled that I will get out of your way as soon as humanly possible. The only time I might sympathize with passing on the right is in the case of #2 (see above). 8. School buses have kids on them! Our kids! When they put their flashing lights on, that means you STOP, even if you are, say, picking up your girlfriend on a side street in Coplay and you want to peel out and "impress" the other kids who have to wait for the bus because they don't have their licenses yet. 9. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think that the parking spaces at the grocery store that are marked "For parents with young children," mean that you can park there when you have your pre-teen in the car with you. I'm thinking those spaces are meant for parents whose kids are slightly less ambulatory. Like in infant seats. 10. When I am at the mall, and I am walking to my car with the kids, and you inch your Jag along behind me really slowly like some kind of stalker because you want my parking space, it makes me want to take even more time to get the kids in the car. 11. 4-way stops mean that people proceed through the intersection in the order of their appearance at the stop sign. Don't try to slide through the stop by following the guy in front of you so closely that it looks like he is towing you. 12. The lines printed in parking lots mean that you are supposed to put your car between them, not straddling them. 13. Just as a totally random example: If you are driving a metallic blue Trans Am and you get stuck behind me on Weaversville Road, and I am stuck behind a tractor roughly the size of Rhode Island, leaning on your horn is not enough to make me put my kids' lives in danger by trying to pass the tractor on a solid yellow line into the face of oncoming traffic. Just so you know. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. Tracie 2. Marsha 3. My 2 cents 4. Will 5. Tbirdonawire

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

When the Going Gets Tough

Ever go to church and hear a homily that feels like it was written with you in mind? That happens to me all the time, so either I am one bad mother in need of some serious correction, or God is trying to talk to me. We are blessed with two great priests who are excellent homilists, and this week our pastor, Fr. Tom, touched on a topic that I have thought about often and one that I struggle with as well. He talked about teaching our kids to "suffer well." I think it's kind of a hot-button issue for most parents because no one wants to think of their children as suffering -- isn't it the American Way to give our kids more than we had? To do more, be more present, better, stronger, faster . . . But at what cost? At the risk of sounding like a guy on the street corner with wild hair and a sandwich board that says The End Is Near, hard times are going to come. Because they come to every person, just differently packaged.
I think about my responsibilities to my children - to see that they have the tools they need to be good Christians, good citizens, and to ultimately make the choices that will get them to Heaven. But my responsibilities also include teaching them how to bear suffering, and that is such a hard lesson in a society that does everything in its power to banish any little discomfort, let alone out and out suffering. Sometimes I worry that my kids will be too soft.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating sack cloth and ashes, but I do think that experiencing some hard knocks may not be such a bad thing for the kids. I just don't think that insulating them from everything unpleasant is the best way to go.

Older Girl is an avid reader, and although she can read as well as an adult, she still likes that quiet time right before bed to share a couple chapters of a book with Rob or me. One of her favorite series is Little House on the Prairie , and although we've read the books through many times, there is one book that still humbles and amazes me. In The Long Winter, the family is in the Dakota Territory, living on a claim shanty. They move from the shanty to a sturdier home in town to survive the winter which brings brutal blizzards from October to April. During one of the first storms, Laura wakes up and finds that her bed has been covered with about a foot of snow, which her father cheerfully sweeps off of her and her sister, Mary (he's whistling, for crying out loud!). The girls think nothing of it and hop out of bed to start the day. What!?!?!?! There is no way I would have been so chipper with the broom if I had found Older Girl under a foot of snow, but the Ingalls' thought nothing of it, because they knew that life was hard. And yet they had the most carefree and innocent childhood, full of joy and love.

So what to do? Do I move the kids to a claim shanty in North Dakota? No, because I doubt that I'd get good internet access out there and Mommy likes her internet. But I do think that just because I can give them all sorts of things, doesn't mean that I should give them all sorts of things. Sounds simple, but that extends to letting them make their own decisions, not jumping in to try and fix things that have disappointed them, and that is a mighty big pill for a type triple A Mom like myself. I read this once in a book called A Mother's Rule of Life, by Holly Pierlot, and leave it to good old St. Thomas Aquinas to really hit the nail on the head:
by pampering ourselves, we superficially shelter ourselves from the realities of life, so when serious difficulties come, we're unprepared spiritually to cope with them.

Boy, do we have some preparin' to do around here . . .

Holding Down the Fort

Blahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . .
I know you can't see me (can you?) but I have finally collapsed in the computer chair and I am slouching horribly (don't cringe, Mom) and my head is hanging over the back of the chair and I am wishing that a big bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream would appear before me . . . that, or a margarita . . . it's all good . . .

Today is Day 4 of Rob's Moldovan Odyssey and I am feeling the strain of the weekend. I know I haven't mentioned it here before, but my darling helpmate is on a medical mission trip to the Republic of Moldova, teaching Advanced Life Support in Obstetrics (ALSO) to Moldovan physicians. For those of you (like me) who may think that Moldova sounds like Rob made it up and really went to Vegas, I assure you it is a real place. It is a small country in eastern Europe, tucked snugly between Romania and the Ukraine. It is the poorest country in eastern Europe, but apparently has one kickin' wine business going. That, and two McDonald's, according to Rob. He is able to send us fairly regular emails, and today he visited an ancient monastery that was once a Museum of Atheism during Moldova's Soviet days. (My question: what is displayed in a museum of atheism, I wonder?) Tomorrow starts the real teaching work, and then he comes home next Sunday, after a nice stop in Vienna, expressly for sightseeing and the purchase of shiny trinkets for one's wife and children back home.
He really sounds like he is having a wonderful experience, and I am glad that this opportunity came along for him . . . (here it comes people, hold on, get ready for it)

BUT . . . .

Holy Mother of God, please don't let me lose my mind with these children! I don't know what was going on here to day, but the kids and I have been like oil and water from the get-go. Even my Baby Girl, my go-to girl for the big smile and the squishy snuggle, was not feelin' it today.
I don't even think I can recount all of the minutiae that seemed to send each of us over the edge today, nor would you want me to because you've all been there. You know those days when things just don't gel and you need a do-over.

But I know that this, too, shall pass, because this is not the first time Rob and I have been separated. He spent most of 2005 away from us when he was called up with the Navy Reserves, so we know how to lump it on our own. But that's kind of the problem, we are just lumping it. Rob's deployment gave me the confidence to know that I can take care of the kids and the house all on my own, but that it's really not much fun. We are meant to function as a team, and with Rob currently on the DL, that means that I am first, second, and third string. A zone defense will only take me so far!

So if you happen to see my kids before next Sunday, and they look kind of like animals that have been released into the wild, you're not seeing things. They probably are looking a little ragged around the edges, but I'm ok that with right now. I don't have the energy not to be!

A German Lesson

While out to eat at Shady Maple, an enormous Pennsylvania Dutch buffet near Lancaster, Older Girl got to experience some new cuisine. Like sauerkraut. We don't make sauerkraut in our house because no one would eat it, so it's not something with which Older Girl would be very familiar, as was evidenced by her conversation with my mother, who had chosen some pork and sauerkraut from the buffet:

OG: GeeGee, what did you pick to eat?

My Mom: This is pork and sauerkraut.

OG: (looking confused) What is that?

Mom: Sauerkraut is cabbage.

OG: Hmm . . . so that's what sauercrap is. I've always wondered what it was made out of.

Me: Hon, the word is not sauercrap, it's sauerkraut.

OG: Oh . . well, I don't think I'll try it anyway.

R.I.P. "Fun"

Every now and then, it's good to have affirmation that I am not the only mom in the world who sometimes rains on her kids' parades. For example:

I was on the phone with my sister-in-law, Marguerite, when I heard some kind of fracas in the background (which is not an uncommon occurrence for either one of us -- especially when we are on the phone). I couldn't tell what the problem was, but I did hear her send my nephew up to his room, with him responding, "You're no fun!"

She didn't miss a beat when she replied, "Oh, yeah? Well I am where fun comes to die."

The Singular Pantyhose

On the ride home from school yesterday, I was taught an interesting grammar lesson:

Me: What did you do in school today?

OG: We made spiders out of pantyhose in art class.

Me: Oh, that sounds cool . . . How do you make them?

OG: Well, first you take a small piece of black pantyho and then . . .

Me: Wait, what do you take a piece of?

OG: You take a small piece of black pantyho. You don't need the whole pantyhose, you just need one piece, so that would be a pantyho.

Me: Yup, that's about what I thought a pantyho might be . . .

Ode to Halloween

In case you haven't noticed, Halloween is coming. Soon. And if you've been in a Target lately, you might think it is tomorrow (followed directly by Christmas, of course -- no time for giving thanks, shoppers). "What I Will Be for Halloween" has been the main topic of the after-school snack table for several weeks, and the costumes have finally been decided. Older Girl will be a cowgirl; she thought for a while that she would go all old-school and cut holes in a sheet to be a ghost, a la E.T., but then she got one of those horses on a stick for her birthday and that clinched it for the cowgirl. The Boy had considerably less trouble deciding; he will be James, The Red Engine (from Thomas the Tank Engine, for all of you who may not be Sodor Islanders). And Baby Girl will be a chicken -- oh yes, no one is spared in our house!

So in the spirit of Halloween, I submit to you a story poem written entirely by Older Girl Langan, aged 7:

Halloween Spooks

Halloween spooks are everywhere,
On the ground or in the air.

Be very careful where you walk,
A spook could catch you in the dark.

Haunted houses, watch out, for
In them you'll find spooks galore.

If you're in a haunted house,
Watch out for the magic mouse.

They eat eyeballs, they drink blood,
They will even devour mud!

Spooks carve jack-o-lanterns, too.
But their faces frighten you!

They go trick-or-treating, too,
But they don't wear costumes like you!

Halloween spooks love to play pranks!
They even play them on fish in tanks!

Now your friends must say good-bye,
But they will always be nearby!

I wish I had a scanner, because I think what I love best are the illustrations, especially the artist's rendering of a giant spider, who I was informed was the "King Spider," complete with a crown, robe, and scepter, with little spiders-in-waiting weaving webs for him. I don't know where the lines about "eating eyeballs" came from, because she is notoriously non-gory, but I love the fact that she puts "devouring mud" right up there with "drinking blood." I asked her about it and she said, "Well some people think Halloween has to be gross, so I just put that in there." (I guess she's trying to reach a larger demographic?)
She made the poem into a book and stapled it together, with a dedication page that reads: "For the Family." The back cover says, "A spooky Halloween tale!" and she told me that it was supposed to be like the back covers of real books where you can "get an idea about what the book is about."

She's a pretty fantastic kid, that Older Girl. Man, do I love her.

Have Kids, Will Travel

As you can see from the previous post, the Family Langan (there it is . . . Our Last Name!!) made a trip up to Connecticut and back home to PA in the span of about 26 hours. Now, this kind of trip is not particularly unusual for us -- our kids have been shuffled around the eastern seaboard since birth, thanks in part (a large part) to the US Navy. Older Girl was moved from Florida to Pennsylvania to North Carolina all before she was 7 weeks old. I went on a single parent road trip with Older Girl and The Boy while Rob was called up with the reserves for 9 months; it was about 2000 miles round trip, just me and the babes and The Wiggles all cozy in the van. You can catch my drift here; our kids are no strangers to the car. So you would think that we would have traveling down to a science. But you'd be wrong. We still always forget something and have to end up either buying it at our destination or going without (more often it's the latter). And we always leave at least one thing behind like a strange reverse souvenir(and it's usually more than one thing, and usually of the toy or lovey variety).
I am the suitcase packer and Rob is the car packer, and the amount of baggage that we bring has increased tenfold since the children have come along. It's enough to make me want to become a Shinto, as my friend Laura says.
So here's a little glimpse of a normal trip. This is not a Rant -- these are just the facts, ma'am:

Since the van was about 4000 miles overdue for an oil change, I thought it might not hurt to get that done before we left. While at the service shop, we met a very nice woman who was a speech therapist and who, after chatting with The Boy, tried so delicately to tell me that I might want to get him evaluated. I wasn't offended; he's already in speech therapy. Done and done.
We then drove to my friend Laura's home to borrow something for the trip, where the van promptly died in her driveway. Dead. As a doornail. With me, The Boy, and Baby Girl locked inside. So I had to crawl into the back to pry open the power(less) locks and heave the power(less) sliding door open, and haul the children out that way. I paged Rob with our phone number followed by 9-1-1. I knew he would think something really bad had happened, but I didn't want him to think I was just calling to chew the fat, either. So while Laura watched the kids, I poked around under the hood with the cell phone on my ear (Laura: Do you know what you're doing under there? Me: No, not really). Turns out that the lead had come off the battery and so I had to screw it back on -- all the while thanking God that it hadn't come off on the middle of the highway.

After some much-needed diet soda and conversation (thanks, Laura!), we headed home to meet Rob and pack the car, which is easier said than done when there is not even one piece of clothing inside of a suitcase yet. We wanted to leave right after Older Girl was finished with school at 2:30, but our best laid plans went out the window when we decided to have a Panera lunch break (their I.C. Caramel coffee drink is like heroin to me). We had to keep our strength up, after all.

We were able to leave by 3:00, but leaving the house and being out on the road are two different things. There is always the Last Stop For Gas before the actual driving begins (especially if gas in PA is $2.17 and gas in CT is not.) We finally got on the highway and we were making good time (if you don't count the seventeen bathroom breaks that The Boy had to take before we were even out of the state). We let the kids eat dinner at Wendy's, which seems to be their hearts' fondest desire, where I told them that once we got back on the highway we weren't stopping until we got to the hotel. Foolish Mommy. We had to make at least three more bathroom stops before we were dragging the old chariot into the Days Inn, where all three kids got a good second wind at 9 pm after seeing their cousins.

They had to explore the hotel room like the Beverly Hillbillies Do Connecticut: "Wow, they have a microwave and a refrigerator in here!", "They have light switches right next to the bed. You don't even have to get up to turn out the light!", "Look, Mom, they have little shampoos in the bathroom." Thank goodness they couldn't look out the window and see the cement pond. The way they talked, you would think that these kids live in a lean-to.
We tried to have The Boy and Older Girl share a bed, but you can all see where this is going. I'll save you all the "But he did . . ." details and just jump to the part where Rob very sternly separated the two while I was brushing my teeth and I came out of the bathroom to find two overtired kids whimpering into their pillows, while Rob and Baby girl drifted off to a peaceful sleep. I dropped into the bed with The Boy, where he silently rolled onto his side facing away from me and pulled up his shirt, which is apparently the universal sign for "Scratch My Back."
The next thing I remember is waking up and realizing I am wet because The Boy has peed the bed. He has been night trained for a while, but he was so tired that he didn't wake up this time.
I changed him, but having no other pajamas for myself, and knowing that I would have to be up soon anyway, I just got up and got my shower, all the while thinking of the McDonald's next door and a large cup of their "Caution: Contents are VERY HOT" coffee.

We made it to the funeral home on time, where Rob was one of the pall bearers (OG: "But Mom, why do they keep calling Dad a 'pall bearer.' His name isn't Paul!") And while it was very sad, there was also an undercurrent of love and laughter because of the children. And I'm glad about that because Aunt Helen loved the kids and she would have wanted them to be laughing. The kids didn't have as many questions about the funeral as I anticipated; actually, Older Girl knew quite a bit about what was going on and, although she cried, I think she was fine.

After a brief visit with family back at the house, we piled the kids in the van for the long drive home. The long, loud drive home. Our placid little Baby Girl, who spent almost the whole trip either sleeping or smiling happily at whoever happened to be cuddling her, decided to let us know, in no uncertain terms, that She Was Displeased. She started crying about an hour and a half away from home, and she didn't stop. At all. Ever. Until we got home and pulled her from her carseat, all red-faced, screaming, and sweaty. My mom called our cellphone in the middle of Screamfest '06, and said, incredulously, "What is that noise?" By the time she called, Baby Girl had been crying for 45 minutes and she had started sounding more like a wounded animal than a baby. We tried everything to calm her, but it was one of those situations where she only wanted to get out of the seat -- but she had to be in the seat to get home. Catch 22.
Meanwhile, The Boy was humming to himself to drown out the baby, while Older Girl was just staring out her window. I could tell she wanted to jump. So did I. Or at least stuff some cotton balls in my ears to stop the bleeding.

But we obviously survived, and the suitcases are still sitting on the bedroom floor to prove it. (We are like post-trip vultures, swooping down on the splayed open suitcases to pick whatever is still clean and useful from the bag instead of just putting it away like normal people.) But they will eventually be emptied, ready for our next trip, which I am sure will bring its' own thrilling and exhausting tale. Can't wait for that, can you?

Aunt Helen

We've just returned from a trip to Connecticut to say goodbye to Rob's Aunt Helen who passed away last week. We hadn't seen Aunt Helen in a while, but she was very special to our family and going to her funeral was something we knew we would do when the time came.
Aunt Helen was warm and funny, and she made you feel like one of her own. She always had a little smile and wink for you, like you were sharing some secret joke. She won my heart the first time I met her when she told me that while I was lucky to have Rob (which I am), he was also lucky to have me (which he is). Rob has only fond memories of the many holiday parties and other occasions that their two families spent together -- where Aunt Helen would always be dressed to the nines, but have her slippers on for comfort (a woman after my own heart).
She was the tiniest of women, 4 foot nothin' as Rob would always tease, but she leaves a big hole.
So please say a little prayer for Helen and for her husband, our dear Uncle Pat, and for the rest of her family. To say we'll miss her is an understatement.

Eternal rest, grant unto her, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon her.
May she rest in peace.
Amen.

Mrs. Potato Head

Conversation that followed a particularly grueling Q&A session with Older Girl and The Boy:

OG: "Mom, how do you know all this stuff?"

Rob: "Because your Mom is a smart cookie."

OG: "Daa-a-a-d! Mom is not a cookie!"

TB: "Yeah, Dad. Mom is a smart potato!!"