Separated at birth?

He is Cornholio.

Amy and Glenn + seven

We had a very full house over the last 24 hours.

Our birthday gift to Melissa was to take her kids off her hands. There was a little glitch in the plan, when Macey had herself some stomach issues and had to miss the sleeping over part (causing Brooke to shed a couple tears). But Macey joined us this morning and the crew was non-stop all day long.

Porter was in cousin heaven. He slept in Andrew's bottom bunk. He only woke up twice, once before Glenn and I went to bed, and once right after. The second time he was out of bed, in the corner of the room. Kind of creepy. But he settled right back down and in the morning was ready to go.

The day included frisbee (the bigger kids "taught" Porter how to throw one), trampoline, a "roller coaster ride" (I think this happened on the swingset), choo choo bains, Beanie Baby cataloging, and even a trip to the library (had to take two cars--we really could have used Jon and Kate's van!)

Everyone ended up dirty and stinky, all wound up and yet completely exhausted. A perfect way to celebrate Aunt Missy's birthday!

My son, on the other hand....

....has no trouble expressing how he really feels.

I have alluded to the fact that my husband accepts me and how I happen to look unconditionally. Andrew, however, has very specific opinions. Particularly about clothing. He is the pickiest of all four of my children (three of which, as you know, are girls) when it comes to what he is going to wear.

And apparently that carries over to his mother as well.

Andrew does not like it when I wear sweats. Which can be a bit of a problem, since that is what I have on 95% of the time. These feelings were unbeknownst to me, however, until he recently said that I look "different" and "tired" when I have sweats on. (Like I don't look tired in a pair of jeans? Like I appear refreshed in a dress and heels? Not likely.) I tried to convince him that it is a look of relaxation and comfort but he wasn't buying.

Yet the next morning, when Andrew came downstairs, ready for school in a pair of basketball pants, it occurred to me that this is a kid who lives his entire life in elastic-waisted apparel. Who is he, Mr. No-Denim-Can-Ever-Touch-My-Body, to critique my own after-hours preference for stretch and a little wiggle room?

It seems, though, that in the "Andrew's Rules For Fashion" book there are varying degrees of offensiveness in the sweats category. His athletic clothing and even my velvety ensembles (we like to call them J Lo's) are acceptable. The problem is with the hugely oversized, XXL numbers that I don on occasion. You know, the ones you put on when you need all the room you can get. Those are the "puffy" sweats that Andrew just doesn't like.

All right. I'll give him that one.

And so that is why, on an ever-so-slightly warmer evening this week, I ditched the fleece for my silky PJ's. I knew both of the men in my life would appreciate them.

Andrew's response? "Finally! Real pajamas!"

Glenn's response? Never mind.

Why I keep him around

The year was 2003. A very good weight year for me.

Today we were watching the footage of a family trip. There I was, my skinny self, five years younger and XX pounds lighter.

I said as much to Glenn later.

"I was so much skinnier back then."

His {perfect} reply:

"But you weren't nearly as attractive as you are now."

~through thick and thin~

Stars (?) on Ice

Last fall Brooke won two free tickets to Smuckers Stars on Ice for participating in the school fundraiser (and by "participating in the school fundraiser" I mean there was a perfunctory purchase of a couple tubs of cookie dough on my part). And so, thinking the event would live up to its name, we sent in for our tickets and put it on the calendar.

So OK, who are these "stars" going to be? All right! Sasha Cohen! Loved watching her in the Olympics. And she really was beautiful to watch.


Who else? Todd Eldridge? Well, at least I've heard of him. But with him, there's this....


...which is sometimes a little hard to stomach.


Also unsettling was this...
...and this...
...and the fact that even though this...


...was quite nice, I have no idea who that girl is. Never heard of her or the rest of the skaters.


But even though the show ran long and the cheese factor was great, I got to spend some quality time with my very own star...

One of those days

THE GOOD:

• Finishing a sewing project
• Starting another one
• Doing some visiting teaching
• Spending over an hour on the treadmill
• Getting all the stuff I sold on Ebay sent off
  
• Kids making dinner
• Glenn

THE BAD:

• Feeling like I still wasn't productive enough
• Tantrums big (kids) and small (me)
• So tired. So very tired.

THE UGLY:

• Crashing on the couch
  
• With a big cup of ice cream
• Holding back tears during the Carrie Underwood/Randy Travis duet on American Idol and the Sawyer/Kate reunion on Lost.
  

Family Dance

We have family home evening 52 times a year. OK, maybe only 40 times. But no matter what, my absolute favorite week of FHE is the week we make our picks for the NCAA tournament.

March Madness, baby. It's here again.

On Sunday, Andrew (and Tyler) were counting down the minutes until the brackets were announced. Over the next 24 hours there was discussion over who would be making what picks, a quick refresher course on seeds and rankings and upsets, and a short history of the tournament with its trends and statistics.

But nothin' means nothin' till Glenn comes home from work with pages of empty brackets, and we push through dinner and song and lesson, and gather around the table with pencils in hand (some are brave enough to use pen) and start scribbling teams.

Are one of these brackets the winning one...?

Now that the teams have been whittled down to the very last, the picks have been entered online (the kids were excited to do that themselves this year!), we are just waiting for the the big dance to begin.

A burning in the bosom

Our family has started a Sunday night tradition of popping popcorn on the stove and eating it while watching a show (although since we are working on our Sabbath Day behavior, it is now old home movies). Normally, this is a pain-free experience. But not tonight.

I was standing in front of the stove, shaking the pot of popping corn. It was starting to overflow, so I went to dump out some of the popcorn into the bowl. And of course, a couple errant kernels went flying. And one just happened to go down my shirt.

Can I just tell you that those puppies are HOT??

This kernel was lodged between a certain undergarment and my tender, delicate skin. Skin that has never before seen the light of day. It may as well have been a hot poker or piece of flaming coal searing my sternum.

And then I didn't know what to do. I was screaming from the pain, but I was also holding the pot and knew that I wanted to get that back on the burner so the rest of the corn could finish popping. And I wanted to get the salt shaken onto the popcorn while it was still hot. Why that was such a concern I really can't say. You would think that getting the smouldering little ball of fire off my chest would be priority number one.

Then I was caught in the dilemma of how to get it out. Do I reach down? Here's a tip for you: don't try to reach down. It just moves the kernel around so that more sensitive skin can share the joy of white-hot pain. No, it is best to pull all clothing away from the body so that it can just drop out. I learned that the hard way.

Now, two second-degree burns and some aloe vera gel later, I am sitting comfortably with my small wounds. And sorry kids, there will be no pictures for your enjoyment. This is a family blog. Shame on you.

Strange Bedfellow

When Glenn and I headed upstairs to bed last night, we were surprised to find this snuggled in our bed:


We have no idea when or why Brooke climbed into our bed, and neither does she. She didn't remember a single thing this morning. Talk about sleeping tight!

Sing. Sing a song.

5th grade Spring Choir concert last night, and once again we have problems with the video. I used my camera and the files are too big to be uploaded to Blogger. But the kids did a great job, and suffice it to say--they were way better than this:

Watch out for flying pigs.

I tried something new for dinner last night. Crab cakes. I had a really good one in Florida last November and thought I'd try to make them on my own. Please keep in mind that neither I nor anyone in my immediate family are very well-versed in the finer points of seafood. In fact, we pretty much never eat it. But it is always appropriate to try new things, and despite my worries that only 1/6 of those around the dinner table would be eating what I was serving, I forged ahead.

This--

is how they turned out. And this is what everyone ate last night. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. Including--wait for it--GLENN. Mr. Picky Eater Extraordinaire. He ate it. All of it, including the zucchini, and he liked it. Hey Mikey!

Now the children weren't so sure, but they all ate it. A bit grudgingly, but they ate it. They couldn't have more pierogies if they didn't. And besides, it take several exposures to a new food before a child decides he or she likes it, right? So yeah, we'll be having these again.

And I think we will be needing a garden with some zucchini in it this summer. Because when there is a veggie Glenn likes, I have got to run with it!

The Last Supper

In the spirit of living with less, our family has decided to forgo eating out for the rest of the month. Not a huge sacrifice, as most family meals are eaten right here at home. But between Glenn's "business lunches" and a weekly post-getting-the-kids-in-bed take-out treat for the two of us, there is some money to be saved. We just couldn't undertake this project without one last hurrah, though. So we celebrated the advent of frugality with a large dose of gluttony.

I think we all got it out of our system.

Turn out the lights, the party's over

Please enjoy Andrew's final basket for his final game of a 7-1 season...

The season is over, but the obsession goes on...
the boy doesn't go more than five minutes without tossing a ball towards a hoop.

The. Most. Dramatic. Results Show. EVER.

I, a seasoned television viewer, am not often caught off guard by the shows I watch. There are previews all week long; the internet is ripe with rumors and spoilers. Sure, there is always a sprinkling of plot twists and a handful of blindsides or unexpected voting results, but generally I just cruise along in my television bliss.

BUT-occasionally there is a moment that is so shocking, that comes so completely out of the blue, that makes me fall in love with television all over again.

Case in point:

• ER, May 11, 2000. Carol Hathaway goes to Seattle to reunite with Doug Ross. And George Clooney actually came back. Best moment in television history, hands down.
  

• 24, January 31, 2005. Jack Bauer is in trouble, and calls the "only person [he] can trust." Who could it be? It's Tony Almeida, embittered ex-CTU agent! Sweeping in to save the day! (Or at least the next five minutes--this is 24, after all.)
  

And then.

American Idol, March 5, 2009. The wild card show.

I am all about Anoop Desai. Consequently, I experienced the lowest of lows when Simon revealed that the third Final 12 spot belonged to Matt Giraud. Had I really seen the last of 'Noop Dogg?

But then.

The sun shone, birds sang, and I screamed. They were making room for Anoop.

So now, after a shaky start (I was really not too happy with the Final 12 selection process this year), I have fallen in love with American Idol. All over again.

Snip

Keep it simple

Words from a faithful boy in front of hundreds..."I'd like to bear my testimony. I know this church is true.
In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen."

Ditto.

Here's what's happening in our neck of the woods

Just a typical quiet Friday afternoon. Brooke and Andrew were home from school, eating their snack and checking their new email accounts. I was piddling around the house, switching laundry, straightening up, waiting for Emma and Leah to walk through the door at 3:45pm.

Only it was 4:00 and they still weren't home.

A call to the transportation department was in order.

Transportation secretary: Well do you know what's going on?

Me: Um, no. All I know is my children are 15 minutes late getting off the bus.

Secretary: Well, there's been some sort of bank robbery and police chase so some of the roads are blocked off and the buses have been rerouted. We were going to call the parents.....

Me: So...where are my kids?

Secretary: Let me radio the bus driver and find out where she's going to drop them off.

And she proceeded to put me on hold. I stood there holding the phone, with a thousand thoughts running through my head.

Where are the kids. Guess the police cars and caution tape I saw down the street has something to do with this. Where are the kids. We are going to be late for piano lessons. Got to call the piano teacher. Where are the kids. Should probably get a snack for Emma and Leah for on the way to piano. Got to get Brooke and Andrew in the car. Where are the kids. Who is that beeping in--don't recognize the number, going to ignore it. How am I going to get to piano teacher's house if all the roads are blocked off. Where are the kids???

Ms. Secretary gets back on the phone and tells me where the bus driver is going to drop the kids off. Way down the street and around the corner. Good thing I was planning on going to pick them up anyway, because it was kind of far away. And so we head out, away from the brouhaha to the west, in search of the girls.

After passing the police blockade at the other intersection, we found the girls. They piled into the car, full of chatter about the afternoon's excitement. Turns out that call that had beeped in was Emma, using her friend's cell phone. Turns out they had heard the bus driver on the radio with Ms. Secretary and knew that I knew what was going on and where they were and was coming to pick them up.

With everybody finally accounted for, we made our way to piano lessons.

In the process of navigating through the city streets we figured out that rather than the whole main street being blocked off, all the action was at one intersection. The intersection approximately 200 feet away from our house. The intersection where a police chase (which actually passed in front of our house) ended in the fatal shooting of a robbery suspect.

Andrew couldn't understand why someone would want to rob a bank (doesn't he know that's wrong?!?) and wanted to check the news for a "front row seat." And then he proceeded to run around the house pretending to shoot guns. And then he informed me that he wants to be a police officer when he grows up, just like our friend. (Hey mom, was so-and-so down there? No, dear, he works on the other side of town. Oh, well, I want to be a policeman just like him.)

Gulp.

But for now, we are all safe and sound. We can all go back to our quiet suburban lives, in a town that is safer than 97% of cities in the entire United States. We can all sleep well knowing that our city's overall rate of crime is sufficiently low that NeighborhoodScout's analysis shows the city to be one of the safest in both Ohio and the nation.

The only thing that might tell you differently are the little spray-painted T's that remain on the road...just down the street.


Click here for the full story...and the interesting latest developments.

Because $1 t-shirts are just too good to pass up...

...and because Jill and I are actually twins.

And the band played on...

The first 5th grade band concert was a surprisingly pleasant performance. I think my expectations were quite low after hearing the orchestra in December, and when you have lower expectations, they are much more easily met.

We had Leah on the bells in the back row...

...and Emma on the flute in the front row.

We also had lots of family there for support, including Aunt Jill!
(who kind of scheduled her solo trip back east around the concert)

Well played, girls. Well played indeed.


The only thing we don't have is video of the concert. Not sure why, as there was a video camera in use. Better luck next time, right?