Friday, December 30, 2011

A Welcome Break from the Routine...

After the happy holiday hoopla, Team WestEnders prepared to kick back and coast through the days between the Yule and the New Year. Husband managed to arrange "Authorized Hooky" (that must be an Official Business Term, right?) for most of the work-week. And of course the young hooligans--I mean my energetic, enthusiastic, ever-so-entertaining sons--have the remainder of 2011 free from the scholastic grind. Now, when they were toddlers and much more high-maintenance, the prospect of a loooong unstructured period of time would have driven me into paroxysms of planning--that is, attempting to schedule playdates and outings and as many other activities as I could think of, to keep them busy and avoid the dreaded "Small Child is Bored So Must Create Mayhem Syndrome". These days, it's much more low-key. How have we been occupying ourselves during the hiatus, you ask? (Or even if you didn't...) Here's a sample:

--"It's 10:00, can we play video games now?" (Somewhere along the road, Derek and Riley got into their heads that ten a.m. represents the reasonable, acceptable hour to commence their daily electronic pursuits. I don't recall exactly how this happened--maybe one time they asked for permission the moment their eyes opened in the morning, and in exasperation I plucked "ten o'clock" out of the air to stall them. Whatever the case, it's now a de facto Family Rule.)

--And on a related note: "Can I download (fill-in-the-blank) app? It's FREEEEEE!" This would be Derek, who has been positively giddy exercising the power of his index finger with his new iTouch. I have to type in the password every time for him--but hey, the joy of being pursued by ravenous monkeys through ancient ruins (Temple Run, in case you were wondering) is evidently...priceless. Then there's Riley: "Hey, Mom, if I beat this level of Plants vs. Zombies I think I'll unlock a special mushroom!" (That's nice, dear, but don't distract me right now, I've almost completed the last episode in the very special Christmas version of Angry Birds: Wreck the Halls!) Well, at least we share our progress and accomplishments, yes? That's kinda...social...ish?

--Struck by my semi-annual French Fry Craving, (yes, these incidents only occur a few times a year, but when they do, you'd best hand over the potatoes or risk the consequences!) the boys and I took advantage of our lack of time constraints to get the heck out of the house in search of some crunchy french-fried goodness. (Also, feeding the Bottomless Pit Boys every few hours at home gets really old...really fast. Believe me, sometimes it's well worth it to pay someone else to prepare food.) In a strategic Mom Move, I sneakily rolled the promise of "lunch OUT" into a trip to Kohl's (Aaah, the exhilaration of Post-Holiday Bargain Hunting). So the boys did earn their reward, although they dragged their sorry carcasses around the store, eyes only half-open, yawning and groaning all the while about how tirrrreeed they were. Vacation--you know, all that eating and sleeping and playing--is apparently absolutely exhausting.

--However, bouts of unbridled rambunctiousness still seem to arise frequently, and when they feel one coming on, they have been known to explode with sudden bursts of creativity. This week for example, they've been staging Band Practice. The current name of the duo, I'm told, is Fearless Flyers, but as this changes on a regular basis, I wouldn't order a t-shirt just yet. Naturally they feature Derek on drums, while Riley handles the vocal duties. Are they any good? Well, it's hard to say...but I can assure you they are plenty loud! (Let's put it this way: even two floors above them, I can hear them...perfectly...) Hey, it's collaboration and not the alternative (which would be known by the delicate phrase: "beating the snot out of each other") so I shouldn't complain, right? And speaking of self-expression, Derek also inquired as to whether I wanted to break out our newest game for the Wii--Let's Dance 3--so he could "get his funk on". Volunteering to shake his groove thing...with his mother? Now I KNOW he must be starting to feel bored!

--Finally, what would Winter Break be without a little Me Time? (Even though that was rhetorical, I'll tell you anyway: it would quickly degenerate into "Time to Check Mom into a Nice Padded Room"...so let's avoid that, shall we?) I seized the opportunity to slip out for coffee (and donuts--B-O-N-U-S) with my sister and an old friend visiting from out of town. Just us three girls, and we had the rare and precious chance to chat for several hours (gasp!) without interruption from kiddies or hubbies or...life. We traded stories, we laughed (a ton), we had ourselves a grand time. And not once did someone beg for a taste my food, or interrupt me to report that his brother was strangling him (or fill in some other dangerous and painful verb), or pause my conversation to ask me to come find something...it was sheer bliss, I tell you!

So there you have it: start with a lot of relaxation, mix in some flurries of activity to keep everyone from totally morphing into Vacation-Couch-Monsters, and you have the recipe for a successful Winter Break. Next up: bring on 2012!

Monday, December 26, 2011

The Elf Report

Here we are on Christmas evening, having enjoyed a delightful day chock-full of family, frolic, and to be sure, a bit of frenzy as well. (5 cousins, ages 4 to 11...enough said!) Our traditional celebration takes place at Grammy and Pop Pop's (my parents') house. We begin with the solemn, dignified unwrapping of the presents...hahahahaha! Excuse me, what I meant to say was: "the uncontrolled whirlwind of shredding paper and flying boxes" (see the aforementioned "mob o'children"). Oh, and let's not forget the high-volume shrieking as each treasure is revealed. Sometimes an unexpected priceless moment occurs, such as when one of the kids (hypothetically, my nephew) receives an especially loud gift--suppose, just for the sake of argument...a Paper Jamz guitar--which he then proceeds to play incessantly...with his BUTT. (Now whose brilliant gift idea was that? Uh-huh, none other than Aunt Johna! You're welcome, my precious Younger Brother!) And for the Part 2 of Z's impromptu performance, picture a roomful of educated adults struggling valiantly to get that darned disobedient toy to play anything other than the same one song over and over (which would be the timeless classic Don't Fear the Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult, if you're wondering. Never need to hear it again, trust me.)

Then when the Santa-rific mayhem winds down, Grammy always feeds the masses with her beloved Pancake and Sausage Feast. This year, in order to flip enough flapjacks to fill our clan (6 adults, 5 kids) she whisked through an entire box of Bisquick and browned two packages of sausage links. Perhaps the best explanation lies in the fact that Derek alone ate 9 pancakes and 6 sausages. (Maybe for 2012 we should begin a new ritual: drop Derek off at Denny's and set him loose on the buffet!)

This year, I was struck for the first time by the fact that after all of the opening and oohing and aahing over presents, each of my sons' piles of loot perfectly encapsulated his personality. From us, Riley requested a couple of DS games, some books, and a Peace Frogs pen and notebook set. (Reading, Writing, Video Games, these are definitely a few of his favorite things!) Derek, craving an iTouch, crafted a deal with the Parental Bank, way back in the Summer, whereby if he amassed half of the purchase price by socking away his allowance, Mom and Dad would contribute the rest as his Christmas gift. (You see, ever since I got one, he had been suffering a severe case of Tech-Envy, but I utterly refused to shell out 200-bucks to buy such a thing for an 11-year old.) His patience, perseverance, and penny-pinching paid off, and Derek was rewarded with his very own iToy this year. And permission to purchase some apps.

From the South Carolina grandparents, Derek got exactly what he asked for: a Snuggie (I'm not kidding--he walks around the house wearing a fleecy throw-blanket half the time in the Winter anyway, and as he explained it, "I want to feel warm, but be able to work the remote at the same time!" Such a...guy!), a new football...and snacks (junk food such as he only consumes when he's at Mimi and Pap Pap's house every year). Riley was thrilled to discover several new Lego sets to increase the ever-expanding Dresser Metropolis in his bedroom. (He proceeded to construct the items immediately...all 600-ish pieces...) Then he somehow delicately assimilated a Spaceship, an Alien Monster, a Bank, and several Police Vehicles into his planned community. (I'm not completely sure if the Monster is robbing the Bank, or if the Spaceship is the actual Thief's getaway transport...all I do know is I'm not moving to that town anytime soon.)

Finally, my extended side of the family made Derek's life complete, by supplying his most prized new possession of Christmas 2011: a Pillow Pet. Imagine one extremely contented pre-teen boy, lounging on his Pillow Pet, sporting his Snuggie and new baseball cap (featuring the logo of the AA Richmond Flying Squirrels. Not making that up.) Meanwhile, Riley got his own Pillow Pet as well, prompting him to carry it around and sing the bouncy tune, "It's a pill-low, it's a peeetttt" repeatedly for the rest of the day. And he was the proud recipient of yet another Lego set, this one a Tanker Truck...which he naturally assembled the minute we returned home. (Well, sure, it makes sense, when you consider that the Police Cars and the Spaceship need fuel, right?)

Truly, what more could one possibly want? The family gathered for a celebration that included entertainment, eating, and enjoying each others' company. Altogether a very Merry Christmas indeed!

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Dinner with Delightful Dorks

Yes, I'm talking about my precious children, of course. Don't get me wrong--I love, love, love that they have the chance to dabble in a variety of enriching topics while holed up in their respective School Environments all day long. And I am eternally, deeply grateful that they take their "jobs" seriously enough to pay close attention to the important subjects being taught. And yes, I even applaud the fact that they memorize a selection of fascinating tidbits to bring home and share with me, their Captive Audience--I mean Devoted Mother. All that being said, my sons' scholastic tendencies lead directly to dinner conversations such as we experienced this evening...

The tone was set while I  prepared to dish out pierogies, and asked each boy how many he wanted. Derek immediately announced that he would take "two times two, minus one!" Oy. "Just trying to keep my parents awake!" he cheerfully added with a huge grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Riley, not to be out...mathed...declared that he would like "the square root of four!" for his portion. That was my early warning that we would be enjoying an Academic Decathalon to liven up our normally-tranquil evening meal, but it was just the beginning...Next, while dousing his plate with ketchup, Derek invited, (in his best Game Show Host voice, which prior to that moment, I was unaware that he even had) "Let's play trivia!" Oh boy, here we go..."Is ketchup a liquid, or a solid?" (I swear I could hear the Jeopardy music playing in my head as I tried to puzzle out the answer before the imaginary buzzer went off.) I knew it had to be a trick, but I went the obvious route anyway: liquid. "Neither!" he gleefully corrected. Then he rattled off the explanation (which I am sooo NOT making up):"It's a thixotropic solution, which means its molecules are in a chain, like a solid; but when disturbed, the chain breaks apart and becomes like a liquid." (After I closed my gaping mouth and managed to rearrange my features back into a more intelligent expression, I wisely noted, "Like when you shake the ketchup to get it to pour." Yep, that was the sum of my brilliant contribution to the scientific discussion.)

Professor Derek ended that segment of the lecture by concluding "We also have a thixotropic solution in our bodies. It's called synovial fluid, and it protects our joints." But wait, he wasn't nearly finished! (Are you jumping up and down with anticipation and enthusiasm? I sure was! Actually, I was busily scribbling with my back turned to him, which caused him to suspiciously ask, "Hey, are you Facebooking this?" Um, of course not, sweetie...but you can bet your...buns...I'll be Blogging it later! Oh look, it's later!) He then fired out his next inquiry: "Can you name the 5 Kingdoms?" Okay, I assumed he wasn't talking about monarchies...so, Biology, right? I hazarded a guess: "Um...Mammals?" No! I figured it was quicker and less painful to just admit defeat, so I let him run down the list: Animalia, Fungi, Protista, Plantae, and Monera. (I really should have gotten Plants and Animals, but mushrooms and single-celled creatures I would definitely have forgotten...and the last one I'd honestly never even heard of. Incidentally, it's "Bacteria", who knew?) Furthermore, the "protista" category had to be specially created, as amoebas and such didn't fit the criteria for any other Kingdom. (And as he continued, I was thinking it's a good thing I took notes, since I wouldn't put it past him to quiz me on the material! Yeah...whose son is he?)

So, that sums up our lighthearted, stimulating dinner chat. The funniest thing of all to me was when Derek revealed that all of this...stuff...came up not in Science Class, but rather in English! Good grief! Shouldn't they be...Shakespear-ing, or something? (On second thought--then I'd have to dig out and re-read some of the plays in order to sound semi-literate in the subsequent Shakespearean Dinner Seminar...nevermind!) Now if you'll excuse me, I should go study my notes. I expect this teacher to grade very tough, and who knows what we'll be covering tomorrow night!

Monday, December 19, 2011

Out with the Old, In with the New...

A couple of random incidents that tickled my funny bone this week...

The first one transpired on Saturday morning at the breakfast counter in the kitchen. The Washington Post "Supplement Package" (Sounds vaguely sinister, right? Like we're receiving thrilling, dastardly Spy Instructions rather than boring, innocuous Sales Flyers...) had arrived as usual, and as per custom, I was distributing the choice selections. Derek claims the Comics; I peruse Travel (wistfully); and at this time of year, Riley snatches anything prominently displaying toys on the front cover. He was happily absorbing the advertisement for a local store called Five Below (where everything costs $5 or less...clever, no?) when he spotted an item that caused him to spontaneously squeal with glee: Angry Birds keychains. (Actually, he sounded exactly like the Pig Targets in the game, whether he meant to or not!) His delight proved short-lived, however, as he almost immediately became pensive and remarked, "Hmm, five dollars seems like a LOT for a little keychain..." I could have quickly, carelessly tossed out, "Yes, it does, honey!" and that would have been the end of it. But noooo...(I mean, c'mon, have you been paying attention? Does that seem like something I would do? Pshaw...) Instead, I launched (kind of like a vengeful flying avian! get it? ha ha!) into an explanation of Copyright Laws and why "Officially Licensed Merchandise" costs more and...some other semi-legal mumbo-jumbo (at least a portion of which I may very well have been making up. Apparently it was close enough for an 8-year old, though.) After an infinitesimal pause, Riley came right back with a snort and a pithy, "Then they should just call it (wait for it...) Irate Birds!" Yeeaaahhh...you think he's secretly been playing Nintendo Vocabulary Games behind my back? Don't ever let anyone suggest technology is ruining my kids' brains...

The second notable occurrence also involved an item from said newspaper. Parade magazine reported that the Concise Oxford English Dictionary (which must be an oxymoron...with a name that pretentious, I'm sure it's as big as a...castle, and weighs a ton...or would that be tonne?) added 400 new words in 2011. Among these: "jeggings", "retweet", and the extraordinarily dignified..."woot". Really? These are the terms deemed worthy of inclusion in the venerable OED? First of all, how many pounds (I mean "euros", blimey!) would you pay to hear, say, Queen Elizabeth let fly with a nice, rowdy WOOT at a Royal Dinner!? And jeggings? Are we to assume this fashion nightmare--I mean trend--is going to be around long enough to warrant even a footnote, much less an entire etymological entry in the world's most recognized and respected tome of definitions? (Wow, that was a lot of big words. And yes, I HAVE been waiting my whole life to use the word "etymological" in a sentence. I'm just so dorkalicious right now, aren't I!) 

Then of course there are the bygone phrases that have been judged obsolete, and will therefore appear no more. A moment of silence, if you please, for: cassette player. Wait, WHAAAAATTTT? It's like they're erasing my precious youth (or taping over it, if you will)! If I remember correctly, the first cassette I ever bought was Bryan Adams's Cuts Like a Knife, and I played that sucker until the plastic spool stretched so much it sounded more like Bob Dylan (shudder). I remember having to repeatedly use a pencil to rewind the darn string back into the case when it got tangled (inevitably) in car stereos. I broke more of those stupid little flimsy boxes they came in than I can possibly count. Since I possessed heaps and heaps of the things, I stubbornly resisted switching over to CDs for the longest time, for fear I'd have to recreate my entire music collection from scratch. But now that I stop to consider it, having fully embraced the age of digital media, I can freely admit that cassette tapes really were a fragile, temperamental, annoying way to play music. When I shared the blurb with the boys, briefly lamenting the passing of "cassette player" out of the English vernacular, Riley looked up from his cereal and innocently inquired, "What's that?" Indeed. Okay, then...good riddance! Now if you'll please excuse me, I must download Cuts Like a Knife to my iPod immediately! (Woot!)

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Feeding Frenzy...

Gosh, it's been weeks since I've written about food, so it must be time for an anecdote that revolves around eating, right? I ran into a friend in the grocery store recently, and while we did appreciate the chance for a lovely impromptu catch-up chat in the condiment aisle, (I guess you could even say we "relished" the opportunity to "ketchup"...hahahaha! Sorry.) we both lamented the fact that we seem to make these shopping forays every few days. Why is it, we wondered, that we can't seem to buy enough at one time to last, say, an entire week? We're smart, organized women, what's going on here? Then Derek came home from school, and--ding ding ding--I had my answer. After we exchanged the usual pleasantries about his school day, he got down to the serious business of assembling his afternoon snack. First he demolished the small bowl of trail mix I had left out for him. Then he asked if he could have a yogurt. Next he eagerly requested a bag of chips. Partially amused, a bit exasperated, and rapidly becoming incredulous, I instructed him to have some fruit instead. So he scraped the last bits of Nutella out of the bottom of the jar, and smeared it on an apple. "Now can I have chips? he finally implored. Good. Grief. And forget about it being a one-time thing: the next day he blew through chips, yogurt, an apple, and a bowl of dry Frosted Mini-Wheats at 3:30. Then he wandered into the kitchen at 5:30 and declared in an anguished voice, "I'm starrrrving!" So I let him have a Fiber One cereal bar to "tide him over until dinner"...in an hour. The way I see it, one of two things is happening--either A) BOTH of his legs are now hollow, and therefore able to hold twice the amount of food he could formerly pack in or B) he's going to wake up one morning very soon and have grown 3 inches in his sleep overnight. Stay tuned.

But don't get me wrong, I'm not really complaining about the fact that I have a kid who loves food. In fact, the one thing our mixed household--that is, a pack of meat-loving boys and one lone vegetarian girl--can completely agree upon is that we all like to eat. The rest is up for negotiation and compromise, such as this evening, when I presented Sloppy Joes made from a meatless, soy-based mix. Everyone's dinner disappeared in a hurry, with the sounds of contented chomping overriding any mutinous comments about the lack of animal content. This is one of those moments when I'm really excited to find an acceptable substitute for something that I've been missing. Another example: the other day I stumbled upon a packaged stuffing at Whole Foods. Now, you'd think stuffing would be a no-brainer--it's just bread crumbs, right? Yes, but...all of the prepared mixes contain either partially-hydrogenated oil, or chicken broth, or both. So when I picked up the package, resigned to scanning the ingredients and putting it right back on the shelf as usual, I was elated to be able to actually bring it home instead. Thanksgiving dinner is Derek's favorite meal of the entire year, so I thought he'd be very pleased to have a repeat of it as a surprise.

The next hurdle was gravy, which some folks can live without, but we tend to ladle over almost everything on the Thanksgiving plate. All of the bottled gravies on the mass-supermarket shelves contain the aforementioned two no-nos. But a trip to my local Roots Market netted me a vegetarian alternative. Yay! Now, in order that I might fully participate in the big Faux Feast, I just needed to get around the...well...turkey issue. Here, Tofurkey is the obvious choice...but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. (Besides the incredibly dorky name, which is a huge Strike One, my family absolutely puts their collective metaphorical foot down at the mention of tofu in any form...even smothered in gravy.) Therefore I went with soy chicken patties, which we've had before, and nobody minds (incredibly, it really does "taste like chicken"...and did I mention it will be swimming in gravy anyway?) Having assembled all of the necessary elements for our dinner, I was almost home-free...but I made one fatal error. You see, I always post a list on the calendar--mostly to remind myself, I didn't think anyone else actually even glanced at it--of what I plan to serve for dinner each night of the week. In retrospect, I should have known Derek would eyeball it, since the boy always wants to know exactly what his next meal will consist of (and precisely when it will be available, if possible). Here was my mistake: I wrote "turkey" next to the Thursday slot. "Hey, Mom", he curiously inquired, "what does that mean, in quotations?" Oh, drat! So I quickly explained that it was really a chicken-substitute, but hastened to remind him that he had eaten it before and liked it. (I promise!) He looked down his nose at me with an expression of mild skepticism, shook his head, and commented dryly, "Vegetarian Thanksgiving in December...we are a messed up family."

Okay fine, wise guy, but how much do you want to bet that cruelty-free, planet-friendly, environmentally-responsible spread looks fantastic at about 6:30 on Thursday night...when you're starrrrving? Until then, I probably need to make another run to the store...for more fruit...and yogurt...and chips...(sigh...)

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Musically Speaking...

Derek, who has been my own Little Drummer Boy (okay, not so "little" these days, but still banging on things...) practically since birth, finally got the chance to put his rhythm and talent to use in an organized way when he reached 6th grade. That's right, I'm talking about that shining example of culture and accomplishment: the Middle School Band! (Yeah, I may be overselling it a bit...so it's a few steps down from the National Symphony Orchestra, you gotta start somewhere, right?) Now, we narrowly escaped--I mean "missed the fulfilling opportunity the Elementary School Music Program offered", since the teacher there only allowed one percussionist. So after Derek expressed an interest in taking Band as one of his classes in 6th grade, I emailed the Director during the Summer to ask her if she accepted drummers. Her response was a warm, enthusiastic, "YES, I would love to have him!" Well, alrighty then, I thought to myself, that settles it! When I told the mother of Derek's best friend (incidentally the boy who happened to have been the lone Elementary School drummer), she described the Middle School Band Director in glowing terms. In fact, before school even began, I was treated to heaps of glowing praise--no, make that gushing testimonials--about this lady's skill and dedication. "Don't worry," I heard more than once, "when she gets finished with them, it sounds like real music!" (Evidently the 4th and 5th graders sometimes played with more gusto than...tunefulness. I'm so grateful we skipped that part!)

Off Derek went to Middle School, where for the first time in his life he received formal musical instruction for 45-minutes every single day. Armed with several sets of new sticks and a practice pad, he (and his best bud) studied proper techniques and procedures while learning a set of songs for the performance they would present in December. Then suddenly, the date of the Winter Concert peeked around the corner. Of course it would mark Derek's first ever public appearance as a Band Member of any kind, but even more significantly...he would be required to wear a white button-down shirt, black pants, and dress shoes. Why do I even mention this? Simply because this child managed to make it to age 11-1/2 without owning ANY of those items! He looked like a young businessman when all decked out in his "finery." (Well, either that, or a waiter!) On the evening of the Big Show, Husband and I strolled into the gymnasium with high hopes...but also fingers crossed. After all, the 6th-Grade Band includes kids from 3 different elementary schools, who just started playing together in September. (On top of that, Derek told me some of them had never played instruments before that! Others, like Derek, might not have ever played in front of a crowd...which might lead to an...interesting...sound...)

We got ourselves situated and watched the musicians file in and take their places. When Derek seemed to be scanning the crowd--surreptitiously looking for Mom and Dad, I guessed--I gave him a discreet, waist-high wave. He acknowledged this with a dignified nod, then busied himself arranging his sheet music. (Again, I want Parental Points for behaving in a non-embarrassing way in public. Please record it on my Scoresheet so I can build up a reserve...for future potentially-unavoidable incidents that may arise...mwah hah hah!) Finally the Director stepped up to the podium to kick off the entertainment...and I have to say, those 11 and 12-year olds sounded darn near professional! The advance billing was absolutely right, Ms. Director IS a miracle worker! After we knew our ears weren't going to be assaulted, we were able to relax and actually appreciate the concert. It was also amusing to watch the percussion section scurry around between numbers, switching places so they each got a turn with the Bass Drum, Snare Drum, and (I'm not kidding) Triangle. (Believe it or not, Derek said that was the hardest to play...since it required you to hold your arm up for such a long time! Who knew?)

So we all not only survived, but thoroughly enjoyed the first of Derek's Middle School Band Concerts (the worst side-effect being a numb tushie from those darn rock-hard bleacher seats). And I will add my voice to the relieved-and-thankful swell of Parental Band Boosters, who feared a night of discord and disharmony, but were granted a welcome interlude of symphonic delight instead. So far, 6th Grade Band...rocks!

Friday, December 9, 2011

Mathematically Speaking...

Growing up, I was the oldest of three siblings in my family. So, not only did I experience life from the Firstborn Perspective, but also quite a large age-gap separated me from my sister (7 years, to be exact). That meant, for one thing, that there just wasn't a whole lot of useful knowledge or applicable skills I could pass on from, say, a 12-year old to a 5-year old. I believe that's one reason why watching my own sons interact often warms my heart...while making me giggle. Riley (3 years younger) picks up on his brother's Middle School Humor (charming as that may be, currently providing a heavy rotation of Justin-Bieber-mocking jokes), Pre-Teen Boy Lingo (which can be an "epic fail" or "totally beast" depending on the situation--don't ask me, I'm studying, but not completely fluent yet), and even Academic Vocabulary. (This might explain why my 8-year old sometimes sounds like a little professor, such as when he requested to play with his DS until 8:45 before school, was granted the extra time, and responded matter-of-factly, "Thanks, Mom! I love privileges.")

During the course of Homework Time, Riley gets exposed to whatever concepts Derek happens to be working on in class. For instance, Derek has been learning about integers, and how to perform mathematical operations with positive and negative numbers. One night as he tackled his homework, he told Riley he was dealing with equations. A puzzled Riley naturally wanted to know, "What's an equation?" So Derek read him the first problem from his worksheet: x + 7 = 1. Riley furrowed his brow in thought, and began talking it through out loud: "Hmm, it has to be a negative number...-6? Because isn't it just like saying 7-6=1?" Um...yeah. (Derek's response was a delighted, "Thanks, Riley, for the answer to #1!") But wait, it gets worse. A Facebook friend (who happens to be a High School Math Teacher), posted this cartoon, which I personally found hilarious. (Yeah, I know, total Dork Joke, what can I say?) I showed it to both boys and explained that it was funny because you can't take the square root of -1, thus by Math Definition it's called an "imaginary number"--get it, ha ha? And they kind of gave me the weak chuckle ("suuurrrre, Mom--whatever you say...") so I thought it would quickly be forgotten. But the next night, Husband was harassing Riley--I mean "horsing around in a typical roughhouse Male Fashion"--and when Riley decided he'd had enough, he declared that "Mom was now his Preferred Parent (his words, I am NOT making that up) and Dad was...the Square Root of Negative 1! Now, while we were all rolling around on the floor in hysterics that Riley had even A) memorized and B) thrown that term out there, we had to wonder: what does that even mean? Dad's Parental Ranking has sunk so low as to be...imaginary? Dad's not as important as a Real Number? What? (Man, Math Insults are their own brand of...confusing, aren't they?)

All I know is, I'm gonna watch my back, because Riley might come up with something even worse if I fail to retain his favor. Hold on, I have a great idea as to how I can cement the Permanent Preferred Parent designation! I'll just offer Riley some...pi! (Hahahahaha! Oops. I guess it's obvious where the Nerd Genes come from...but I still crack myself up!)

Monday, December 5, 2011

All is Calm, All is Bright...

Well fa la la, my friends, it's December! And you know what that means: time for decking the halls, and gobbling sugarplums (whatever the heck those may be), and generally making merry. And in the calmer moments of the holiday season (if there are in fact any of those) I like to try to stop careening around like an over-caffeinated elf for 10 seconds or so and reflect on the true meaning of this time of year. What's really important, here? Sparkly decorations? 10,000-calories feasts? Fancy new toys? Well, sure! Wait, no, I mean of course not! I know this one...oh yeah! Catching up with friends, reconnecting with family, and nourishing your spiritual side, whatever form that may take.

With this in mind, I began planning for our annual Holiday Open House, an event that, while it never fails to bring much "comfort and joy" (hey, just for kicks, let's see how many Christmas songs I can work into this post, shall we?) also causes me massive stress each year. Granted, I do recognize that it's 100% self-inflicted drama, as I concoct an ambitious scheme involving multiple kinds of food with varying preparation times and degrees of difficulty. By the time I've scurried around to different stores to secure the ingredients and undertaken the actual assembling of the edibles, I'm already frazzled and tired, which ends up ensuring that I don't enjoy my own "reindeer games" as much as I should. Why do I insist upon doing this to myself, you may wonder? I guess it's because I've always had this notion that--as an intelligent, detail-oriented Adult Female--I just ought to be a natural Hostess Extraordinaire and be able to pull off magical Feats of Entertaining. (Logically, I know that's utterly ridiculous...I mean it's not like I have a degree in Crafts and Cooking from...Ladies' Finishing School, right?)

But with my newfound (even if most likely temporary) sense of self-awareness and inner peace, I reached a moment of astonishing insight into my own character. I suddenly realized with crystal clarity: I am NOT Martha Stewart! (Now let's all pause for a second to breathe a collective sigh of heartfelt relief...for oh-so-many reasons!) I will never pull off a 25-step appetizer recipe. I absolutely refuse to create adorable little napkin-holder-thingies from fabric scraps and a hot-glue gun, just so the table can look more festive. And you know what? I could not care less! Much, much more importantly, my friends and family will still show up, have a complete blast at my shindig, and at the end of the day, will still love me just the same. (I know: DUH! But for me, it was a freakin' revelation, I tell ya.) So what did I do this year to get ready for the event? One word: C-O-S-T-C-O. That place is a veritable wonderland for the lazy--um, smart--Party Planner. (One example of many: they carry what is possibly the best item I have ever seen: pre-cut cheese slices, sized to fit on crackers. Seriously? That's soooo brilliant! Now if they only sold "figgy pudding"...)

Once I laid out the spread and had time to relax (yay!) and await the arrival of my guests, I was struck by one final bit of personal knowledge, something admittedly so obvious I should have recognized it all along: my specialty lies in envisioning the desired outcome ("enough food for a medium-sized throng of people"), drafting a plan of action (i.e: "choose menu"), and implementing the necessary procedures for success (which we now know means simply "shop at Costco"...and "artfully arrange food on table") rather than "preparing a Gourmet Banquet from scratch". In other words, if you need anything organized, I'm your girl...but if you want something flambeed, souffled, or...decoupaged (yeah, like I even know what that means) you're on your own! Now let's just step away from the glitter-paint and have another cannoli (made from a Costco kit, naturally)! After all, it is the "most wonderful time of the year"!

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

All the News That's Fit to Print...

After several days of Team WestEnders being down a player, Derek returned from Wilderness School this afternoon...tired, nursing a slight cold, but otherwise intact. (And with all of his stuff--astonishing! Incidentally, it was easy to gauge his level of fatigue: he stumbled off the bus, drifted over to me, and gave me a hug! In public! In front of other parents and his classmates! Yeah, he was wiped.) As expected, it was odd not having him around. The house was noticeably quieter with one less elephant--or son--galloping up and down the stairs. Riley had one less person to listen to his chattering during all of his waking hours (I'll give you one guess as to who got to pick up the slack?) There was a distinct absence of brotherly bickering (upside)...but also a dearth of sibling collaborating and giggling (downside). Upon arriving home, (being the conversational boy that he is) Derek readily regaled us with his own personal Highlight Segment:
Best Outdoor Activity--Predator vs. Prey simulation (in which he was designated an "herbivore"...and, sadly but not unexpectedly..."perished")
Least Favorite Outdoor Activity--Orienteering (yes, he's my child, he can't read a compass, either!)
Best Indoor Activity--the Storyteller (complete with requisite Ghost Story)
Worst Indoor Activity--creating and presenting a "Cabin Song" (I can only imagine the delightful offerings from a group of 11-year old boys. Oy.)
And finally, a Postgame Wrapup from Derek just wouldn't be complete without a critique of the Camp Food...which he summarized as "repetitive." (Evidently the same "ground meat" kept showing up meal after meal, disguised in different ways. Clearly it wasn't fooling anyone.)
Suffice it to say, we're all glad to have him back, full of Outdoor Ed Survival Stories, showered and tucked snugly into his own bed.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...I mean house...Riley's life continued as usual, meaning school and homework. Fresh off his successful "Why My Family Moved to Olney" project, he received yet another two-week assignment to begin preparing. This one (which I also remember Derek doing when he was in 3rd grade) involves choosing a recipe to type up and share with the class. I immediately read the fine print and discovered to my relief that your dish of choice is NOT required to reflect your family's "ethnic heritage" (Yes, I was concerned--just because my ancestors came from Ireland and Germany--several generations ago, mind you--doesn't mean I've inherited an awesome way to prepare...Wienerschnitzel...or...boiled potatoes. Does corned beef and cabbage count? Wait, I don't even eat those...how about a nice tofu entree? Derek interjected at this point to remind me that for his Class Cookbook we submitted: Cheese Quesadillas. What the heck were we thinking? Because, yeah, we're so...Mexican?) Anyway, Riley settled on Noodles with Spicy Peanut Sauce, which we do actually make and he really enjoys eating. I only hope the rest of the 8-year old crowd finds it tasty as well...and accepts our entry without demanding our (non-existent) Asian-American credentials! Now if you'll excuse me, I really need to go check how many days we have left until Winter Break (aka our Homework Hiatus)...

Sunday, November 27, 2011

School in the Wild...

With a son who's now in Middle School, it's been interesting and amusing (well, at least to ME) to reflect on how drastically things have changed since I was in 6th grade (oh-so-many...decades...ago). But this coming week, Derek will actually participate in a school-sponsored event that I myself experienced at age 11: the Outdoor Education Program. And while much of my pre-high-school time comprises a pleasant, fuzzy jumble in my memory bank, this particular extended field trip dredges up some pretty sharp pictures and stories for me.

Here are the details that stick out the most: my 6th grade class took buses to a Nature Center of sorts, located in the Catoctin Mountains west of Frederick. We stayed in basic cabins--unheated, with bunk beds--and ate meals all together in the Dining Hall. During the days we were there, we studied in the Open Air Classroom, observing plant and stream life, learning about ecosystems, attempting to navigate through the forest (more on that later), etc. Although we went in October, I distinctly recall that we got wet more often than I preferred (which is approximately, oh, never) and that I felt extremely cold the entire time we were there. As for specific lessons--there was one day we were divided into small groups, taken out into the woods somewhere, and instructed to find our way back to the main camp using our compass. The lone helpful piece of advice I remember was "By the way, this land borders on Camp David (yeah, that's right, the famous Presidential Retreat)...so just be careful not to wander in there." Oh, sure, no problem! While my group successfully avoided being shot by Secret Service Agents, the only thing we did manage to locate was...a paved road. Eventually, though, we were retrieved by a truck from Camp Greentop and returned in time for dinner. (Believe it or not, these are fond memories...although you'll notice I did not leap to volunteer as a chaperone for Derek's class trip! Let someone else do the time...I mean "bond with their child in the Great Outdoors"!)

So on Monday, Derek will depart on his very own Outdoor Ed excursion. We had one of those touching Mother/Son moments when discussing what he should pack:
Me (reading off the list of items suggested by his school): "Chapstick, you have one of those, right?"
D (half disdainful, half horrified): "Ugh, I don't wanna bring chapstick! Why would I do that?" (You know, like I was recommending he bring along fuzzy pink slippers and sparkly shampoo, or something.)
Me (reasonably, reassuringly): "It'll be chilly, your lips will be dry--and don't worry, you have non-girly chapstick..."
D (hysterically): "My friends will make fun of me and probably chuck me off the mountain! Hey, loser, you brought chapstick, hahahahahaha!" (Oh, for the love of Pete, you win, forget the stinkin' chapstick, then!)

I almost set him off again when I pulled out his one and only pair of fleecy pajamas (covered in a guitar print--very cute...but maybe not so very...shall we say..."manly"?) and told him I thought he'd be freezing during the night without them. "Moooom" he groaned, "NO!" (Okey-dokey, it's your cold tush, pal!) Fortunately, we filled his duffle bag without further incident after that. (One of those frequent times I am thankful he's a boy: "toiletries" = deodorant. Done!) It occurred to me that it's actually the first time in his life he will be away from home by himself. I suspect that's going to be weird for ALL of us. But I know he's going to have an awesome time. He'll study the environment, and research all kinds of natural phenomena, and hike. (Hey, I'll bet these days when they drop kids off in the woods, they even give them a GPS!) And no matter how cold, damp, and tired he returns home, he'll have tales to tell his own kids in 20 years or so!

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Time to Update my Mommy Resume?

Husband and I became parents in our 30s, after many years of living on our own and taking care of ourselves, (mostly) in a capable and responsible fashion. When we agreed it was time to start a family, we took what we considered to be the thorough, adult route to preparing ourselves...including digesting the Prenatal Bible--I refer, of course, to the classic What to Expect When You're Expecting--cover-to cover, taking a Getting Ready for Your Baby's Birth class together, etc. However, even after all that studying, the actual process of continually caring for a tiny, helpless newborn still came as quite a rude shock to us at first. Sure, babies are adorable and all, but man, are they needy little blanketfuls of hungry, sleepy, cranky, wet, messy...what? oh yeah, "bundles of joy"! People always gush about the Big Milestones that kids reach, like crawling, and walking, and talking, and those are definitely great. But I have to admit, I enjoyed some of those less-celebrated-but-more-practical achievements even more. Like...holding a spoon. (Bonus: aiming some food in the vicinity of your mouth...so Mom can eat, too!) Or dressing yourself. (Eliminating the delightful daily wrestling match that involves shoving flailing limbs into small clothing-holes.) Each time my sons learned to do something on their own, as toddlers or preschoolers, I felt pride for their accomplishment...mixed with a bit of relief, that one more Mommy-To-Do had been removed from my list. ("Outsourced", if you will. I became more of a...Quality Control Manager--"No, honey, even though your utensil skills are now excellent, you may not dip Nutella from the jar. But yes, you may wear your Thomas the Tank Engine shirt for the 75th straight day. Don't forget the pants, too".)

And while no one would accuse me of acting all misty and nostalgic about those ‘precious bygone days’ (“Oh, sweetie, remember when you were so dependent on me that I had to wipe your nose for you?’ Good times! Or…not) lately this whole "Growing Up" thing has gotten a bit out of hand. For example, it was absolutely lovely when Riley at long last mastered tying his own shoes. I applauded when Derek got tall enough to reach the glassware and the freezer so he could get his own cold drink. And let's face it, I did an unrestrained Happy Dance when both boys took over making their own lunches. But on one recent morning, I had to get up with Derek before school because Husband left for work at some uncivilized hour for a conference call with China or Timbuktu or somewhere. (I know, I know: "what kind of neglectful, uncaring mother doesn't see her firstborn child off to school every day without fail?" Well, I'll tell you--the kind who is NOT a cheerful morning person, and enjoys sleeping until 7:30, that's who. See, I can be downright belligerent before coffee, which does not add up to quality mother/son bonding time. So there!) Anyway, somehow the alarm that I'd set the night before failed to go off and wake me, so I didn't actually get out of bed until 7:10. I found Derek, who had risen when his own alarm rang at 6:45, efficiently packing up his school supplies in order to leave the house at 7:20 and walk down to the bus stop. He had already fed himself. He politely declined my offer to drive him to the end of the street. In fact, I could have remained wrapped up in my cozy warm comforter, and he would have managed just fine on his own with no Parental Supervision whatsoever. Jeez Louise, can you say "obsolete"?

Okay, so that's my Middle Schooler, exercising his burgeoning maturity and independence. Fine. But Riley's still my baby and needs my guidance and assistance for many things, right? So I thought...until later that same week, after they had both arrived home from school, and Riley was itching to do his homework. (Why on earth would he want to do that? If I recall, "to get it out of the way" was the answer I got...) I was in the middle of something else and couldn't help him immediately, so I shooed him away with the assurance that we'd get around to it shortly. When I finished whatever task I'd need to "get out of the way", I informed him I was ready and eager to tackle those Spelling Words now. "Oh, you don't have to, Mom," he blithely informed me. I geared up for an argument along the lines of "of course we do, spelling is important, your teacher is expecting this assignment, blah, blah, blah." Before I could work up a good head of steam for the lecture, he quickly added, "I already sorted and wrote my words...with Derek!" (Who stood beside him, nodding solemnly--but with a giant, self-important grin on his face.) Then, just in case I wasn't feeling useless enough, he finished with, "And I practiced the ones I got wrong, too!" Alrighty, then...I'll just go take a nap, or something...

So there's an emotional conflict raging here: on the one hand, I'm very pleased with the initiative they're showing, and with the new skills they're demonstrating. But on the other hand, don't they need their Mommy anymore? I suppose this is all part of the maturing (for them) and letting go (for me) process that every parent endures as their children get older. (‘Letting go’ in this case being a special code for ‘holding on tightly with both hands and not loosening up even an inch’…wait, that’s not right, is it? Nevermind…) I've decided to look at the bright side (besides the obvious fact that no one’s driving…yet): I now have more time available to catch up on some reading, maybe do a crossword puzzle...and eat Nutella right from the jar (because the tough job of Parent does still come with some perks). And if they need me, they know just where to find me…

Saturday, November 19, 2011

The Natives are not all that Restless...

Yesterday I had the rare and special opportunity to get up-close-and-personal with...the Dark Side. I found it to be a dangerous place, one where few rules prevailed and the likelihood of experiencing harmful events was disproportionately high. Where was this risky, terrifying place? The cafeteria at Derek's Middle School (gasp!), during the Feeding Frenzy (eek!)--I mean Lunch Period. Yeah, that's right, I subjected myself to something that would leave even seasoned anthropologists quaking in their flak jackets: Adolescents in their Natural Habitat. And why, oh WHY would I undertake such an endeavor? Well, it's like this: in Elementary Schools, Parent Volunteers are welcomed with open arms (a big, glittery hug, if you will). We're ushered into the actual classrooms, where we are permitted to work directly with students on exciting tasks like "spelling commonly-used words" or "adding double-digit numbers, with regrouping"! We get to form a relationship with the teachers, and observe our children as they interact with peers and adults in their academic environment. It's all very warm and fuzzy. Then the kids get older, and go off to Middle School, and that sharing and caring stuff is all over, my friends. Suddenly you aren't allowed to just sign up and spend time in the classroom with your children (and they'd be absolutely horrified if you did that, anyway). So here's the dilemma--what's a Mom to do, when she still wants to spy on her son...I mean "donate her time to help out the school, while perhaps also studying student behavior in the scholastic setting"?

A fellow Soccer Mom, who had sent her older child off to Middle School last year, clued me in to the surprisingly simple solution. She recommended volunteering at the School Store...which is located right in the cafeteria...and operates during the three lunchtimes. Brilliant! From the relatively inconspicuous position at the edge of  the room, behind a counter, I could watch all of the dynamics of pre-teen bonding at its most basic--call it the Food and Fellowship Factor, if you will. So I got myself on the roster, and prepared to infiltrate the Derek's World. But first, in the spirit of fair play, I felt I should warn him that I would be invading--um, visiting--his happy lunchtime oasis. "Good news...I'll see you at school tomorrow!" I announced brightly one evening. He accepted this with a facial expression that read "slightly startled, but not overly-concerned". However, I couldn't help adding, "I'll be sure to greet you when you come in"--and I proceeded to demonstrate in a piercing, high-pitched voice, "Hiiiiiiii, Sweeeetieeeee!" Fortunately, he knows perfectly well that I would never even dream of doing this to him, so he calmly shot back, "Well, I can sit in the far corner of the cafeteria, then!" "Oh really? Then I'll just have to jump up and down, and wave my arms, and call out even louder--"Over heeeere, Hoooneyyyy!"--so you're sure to see me. (Mwah hah hah! I still don't scare him, but it was lots of fun to pretend to be Evil Mommy for a second...)

When my very first School Store Day arrived, I eagerly took up my post and waited for the impending action. After a few minutes, the 6th-graders streamed in noisily, laughing and jostling in a high-spirited way. And lookie here, it turns out that Derek and his friends actually sit only a few feet away from my window-seat. Get ready for the show! When Derek spotted me, I gave what I considered a totally discreet little finger-wave and smile...which he ignored...then he pointedly sat on the bench at his table with his back to me. Humph! I'd been thoroughly rejected by my darling son! (Some of his friends helpfully pointed out, just in case he'd managed to miss it, that his mother was here. I saw the back of his neck turn red, but that was about all the acknowledgement I got!) During the next half-hour, I handled exactly ONE transaction (a kid bought a 75-cent mechanical pencil) and kept a curious eye on the 11-year olds. Derek's little posse included his best friend and a couple of soccer teammates, all of whom ate and chatted in an appropriately civilized manner. In fact, the entire class was, overall, a surprising well-behaved group. (I don't know what I was expecting--a food fight, a la Animal House maybe?) Good for them, a bit boring for me. Finally, toward the tail end of the session, when I'd all but given up hope, Derek and a friend approached the School Store counter and stopped to talk to me. (I suppose he'd exhausted all other available means of entertaining himself.) So I guess my presence wasn't too mortifying, after all. Then the bell rang, and he filed out with his classmates to continue his day.

(Then the real fun was over for me, and I spent the next hour-and-a-half reading...and playing Plants vs. Zombies on my iPod...while the 7th and 8th graders ignored me completely.) There you have it: I successfully spent a couple of hours on the fringes of Adolescent Culture...I survived...and my son is still speaking to me. A rousing triumph for my first foray into Middle School, I'd say! Next month, maybe I'll even be brave enough to try the local cuisine!

Thursday, November 17, 2011

It's our story (and we're sticking to it!)

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, the first quarter of the school year recently came to a close. So that preliminary "getting to know you" and "easing into the academic routine" phase is over, and the real "roll up your sleeves" and "put your nose to the grindstone" part can begin (for Riley, anyway, still in Elementary School--Derek got thrown into the deep end on Day One of Middle School). For example, Riley was just assigned his very first 3rd grade project, a poster in which he must utilize of various "text features" to present information in an effective, interesting manner. "Great fun!" I thought enthusiastically, already envisioning how he could incorporate elements like fancy fonts, and photos, and captions, and (wait for it) bulleted lists! Poster board and markers and glue sticks, oh my! But I lost a bit of my excitement when I actually read the required topic: "Why your family moved to the United States...or Maryland...or Olney." Now, Riley's school is awesomely multi-cultural, so I'm positive that some of his classmates have really cool stories to tell about emigrating from other countries. Or some of them might at least have started out their life in another state, and moved to this area. But...I was born in Maryland. I've lived here my whole life. I feel so...L-A-M-E!

Of course, mine and Husband's ancestors did at some point come to America...but it was several generations ago. Those relatives have long passed, and (sadly) the family histories haven't been preserved in any tangible form. So poor Riley is stuck with his only possible choice: "why my Mom and Dad moved to Olney." (To make it even more pathetic, we relocated a whopping 14 miles, from Bethesda. I know, I know, Daring Adventurers we were, blazing a trail from one suburb to the next...) However, when discussing it with Riley, I realized that somehow, we'd never talked to him about that Pre-Kid period in our lives. He didn't know, for instance, that Husband and I had lived on the 8th floor of a tall apartment building, in the heart of the Bethesda Business District. Or that when we moved, I was just barely pregnant with Derek (but didn't know it yet), and wondered why the heck I was so exhausted when trying to load boxes. (We got a big chuckle out of that--technically, Derek moved with us...but he doesn't remember the old place so much!)

And it was certainly nostalgic, reminiscing about the months spent house-hunting (much more enjoyable than the actual search was). We shared how Husband had to convince me that Olney was not, in fact, "out in the middle of a pasture somewhere." How did he make his case? By pointing out that only a "real town" could support a Starbucks right in the center...and (most critically) within walking distance from our prospective neighborhood. We also wanted a yard where our future children could run amok, and Husband is fond of reminding me that my specifications were quite strict: there had to be a strip of grass at least 60 feet, 6 inches long...for pitching practice! Hmm, what else? Oh yeah, nice quiet street, good schools, blah blah blah.

So yes, our tale still lacks the suspense and drama of a genuine Coming to America experience, but hopefully the creative use of color, the neat presentation, and the perfect spelling and grammar will allow Riley's teacher to overlook the story's yawn-factor. Ooh, maybe she'll give extra credit if we throw in some glitter! (CVS is right next to Starbucks, I can go get some right now!)

Monday, November 14, 2011

A family that plays together...has a kickin' good time!

After last Saturday and Sunday's soccer whirlwind, wrapping up both boys' seasons with 2 games each, Team WestEnders breathed a collective sigh of impending relaxation, and prepared to welcome the first sport-free weekend in quite a while. But wait, not so fast...there's still the Post-Season Celebration to attend. What's that you say? "It's just a party, what's the big deal?" Au contraire, my friends! When our dedicated, enthusiastic (overgrown 10-year old...and I mean that in a 100% admiring way) Coach throws a get-together, it involves a Parent vs. Kids No-Holds-Barred-Grudge Match--what? oh, of course I mean "friendly contest"--at a local indoor SportsPlex...followed by cake.

Fortunately for us old...er folks, we started out with Riley's U10 Hornets on Saturday evening. We stretched, we warmed up, we felt confident that we could totally take those...scrawny little guys that came up to (maybe) our waists. Before the contest, Coach gathered the adults for a pep-talk: "Take it easy on them, and when it's all over, they'll have more goals than us" he sternly admonished (with a knowing grin--jeez, you'd think he's aware that some of us have...shall we say a "competitive streak"? I mean, not ME, certainly...) And the whole thing was a blast, I tell ya. I played field hockey for decades, which is similar in terms of player-positions and strategy (minus the big wooden stick, obviously), so I enjoyed the heck out of myself getting to run around and kick a ball (off the wall, no less) without being called for a foul. In the end, the munchkins racked up a respectable 7-5 victory...and everyone had earned their snack. (Incidentally, that's my kind of fitness program: work up a good sweat, and earn yourself some dessert!)

However, some of us faced yet another challenge: Derek's formidable U12 Radioactives on Sunday night. And I'm not ashamed to admit that the prospect of going head-to-head against these boys filled me with no small amount of trepidation. Some of them are already almost as tall as me (although I still outweigh them--for the moment). Many of them race around on feet that are bigger than mine. Most of them run much faster than me (I can run for quite a while...just not...quickly). ALL of them demonstrate enormously-better ball-handling skills than I do. And most importantly, NONE of them will accept losing a Survival-of-the-Fittest-Battle (dang it, "friendly...contest") against their Moms and Dads. Funny, Coach didn't feel it necessary to give the "play nicely" speech to the Grownup Squad before the first whistle. Perhaps he's acutely aware of the well-honed Killer Instinct young boys exhibit when given opportunity (and permission) to pummel their parents on the playing field. And right from the opening kick, this game proved much less...civilized...than yesterday's match. There was (good-natured) trash-talking, there was (lighthearted) shoving, there was no quarter expected or given by either team. And if I had to sum up the experience? So. Much. F-U-N! In the end, we fought to a satisfying 4-4 tie. (More critically, at least to me: I performed acceptably well and did not embarrass myself in front of my offspring. This time.)

I like to think that we parents approach this annual ritual with an eyes-wide-open attitude. We know perfectly well that very soon--probably next year, in fact--at least our older sons are going to permanently cross that threshold where they're bigger, and stronger, and faster than us, and there'll be no looking back from that point on. (Because we are only going to get older and slower! Darn it!) So for one more year, we savored the even outcome...and treated ourselves to some well-deserved extra cake!

Friday, November 11, 2011

Progressing Nicely...

This week, I feel like Autumn has truly arrived at last. (I know, I know, it's November already. But around here, "September" should just be called "Son of August" since the weather usually remains Summer-like for the entire month. And October can't make up its mind one way or the other, so we get a crazy mixture of heat and chilliness that keeps us in fleecy jackets one day and tee-shirts the next...except of course my warm-blooded children, who refuse to concede to wearing long pants unless given a direct Parental Order...which I'm not inclined to deliver. Eh, nobody ever died from cold knees, right? Um, what was my point again? Oh, yeah: it's all a big tease, weather-wise, until right about...now.)

Maybe it was the switch back to Standard Time. (Which by the way I have every intention of whining about until December 20th, the blessed day when we start winning our afternoon daylight back...one precious minute at a time.) Or the cascades of leaves that have suddenly decided RIGHT THIS SECOND to leap off the trees into our backyard. (I diligently rake them all up into neat mounds, and I swear the minute my back is turned, I hear the telltale rustling that signals another wave of them is preparing to blanket the yard. Darn you, Leaf Goblins, for taunting me!) Or the fact that Soccer has ended, leaving us with a loooong, dark, cold stretch of time until the Spring Season begins in April. (Oh, who am I kidding with that? Derek and Riley have been outside all week, dribbling a ball in and out of my leaf piles and passing to me while I rake. Spring Training starts mighty early around here, let me tell ya.)

And of course, let us not forget that honored and anticipated harbinger of Fall: the first Report Card of the school year. That's right, nine weeks of academic endeavors have flown by, and we eagerly await news of how the little gooberheads--I mean Scholars--have progressed in their studies. This is kind of a momentous year in the Grades Department, as Riley switches from the O/S/N system (which has always seemed kind of arbitrary and...wishy-washy to me anyway. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad my kid is "Outstanding" in Math, but what does that even mean?) to the universally-understood A/B/C scale. And Derek...his quarterly report includes an actual GPA calculation for the first time. (Welcome to the Big Time, young man! And by the way, from here on in you'll have to watch it, 'cuz the numbers don't lie!) In Derek's case, I had been keeping tabs on his work all along, thanks to the magic of EdLine. The exact point total for every homework assignment, every project, every quiz, every test (every time he scratched his nose...just kidding, but there's so much information, I almost wouldn't be surprised if they also recorded his behavior...just as well that they don't!) showed up electronically, pretty much the day it happened, so not only did I already have his grades, I knew what he had earned in each class, down to the precise number. (Calculated to one decimal point--how's that for thorough?) So, no mystery, and no ugly shocks either. Also, for the very first time in his scholastic career, I didn't have to schedule a Parent/Teacher Conference. Apparently, that's a nurturing, bonding Elementary School thing; in Middle School, you only meet with the teachers if there's a problem to discuss, and the Counselor informs you that you must come in to address it. No notification = your kid's not in trouble...whew!

Then there's Riley, still enclosed in the caring, sharing confines of Elementary School, where Mom makes a special appointment to go in and hear what his teacher has to say about his performance in class. After the extraordinarily bumpy transition to 3rd grade, Riley seems to have settled in, finally. (Or accepted his fate? Whatever, it's a relief not to have to deal with tears and fears every morning.) He still occasionally complains about Math being "difficult"...but his preposterously-high test scores indicate that he's grasping the concepts just fine, regardless of how hard he thinks he's toiling away. What was more startling is that his teacher wants him to...speak up more during reading group. Excuse me, what was that? (I actually glanced behind me at that point, to see if she suddenly began addressing some other parent, whose kid is quiet and shy.) Are we referring to the child who N-E-V-E-R stops chattering? Who holds conversations with himself when no one is around (or willing) to listen? Who has a tendency to break into (familiar, or self-composed) songs with little or no warning at any given moment? All I can say is: be careful what you wish for, because once he gets fully comfortable in class, you may never hear the end of him! (Then I'll be right back in there, for a very different meeting...)

So, overall the boys achieved a successful first quarter. Naturally Derek, the savvy 6th-grader, accepted the praise due him for his excellent efforts, then immediately wanted to know: What do I get for doing well? Evidently "my utmost respect and high regard" just didn't cut it, so I offered the next best thing: "Um, how about...pizza?" This was met with cries of "whoo hoo!" (Derek) and "best Mommy ever!" (Riley) so I suppose I chanced upon an acceptable incentive. It's good to know that, even in their more advanced stages of learning these days, the boys can still be motivated with cheap carryout food! Whoo hoo indeed!

Sunday, November 6, 2011

A Saga of Two Seasons

With just one game left in the Fall 2011 Soccer Season for both of my sons, we witnessed today one of--if not the most--dramatic day of play we've ever seen so far in their young lives. Derek's U12 Radioactives had strung together an impressive 5-2 record during the regular season, dominating other teams in their wins and scoring a prolific amount of goals. They headed into the playoffs as the 3rd seed, behind the two squads that had beaten them. One of those teams boasts big, strong boys who play a highly aggressive style of soccer. Our guys have always felt intimidated when matched up against this team (mentally "psyching themselves out"), and therefore have tended to play tentatively. Needless to say, the other team has beaten us...handily...a number of times over the years. And who did we meet today on the field? Of course, the dreaded "Yellow Team". Our players seemed calm, but we parents/spectators were a wreck on the sidelines, let me tell you.

Without subjecting you to the minute-by-minute recap ('cuz I could do it, don't test me!), suffice it to say both teams put on a sports exhibition, with a level of skill and competition that would make FIFA proud. The blazing speed, the crisp passing, the dazzling ball-handling, the heartstopping goalie-saves...it was a jaw-dropping spectacle from the spectator seats. (I'm serious, SportsCenter should totally have been filming this one!) The Radioactives challenged this rival team in a way that they never have managed to pull off before. At some point in the second half, Derek chipped a perfectly-placed shot over the opposing goalie into the net, for his green team's only goal. Unfortunately, the Yellow Team tied it up a few minutes later, and that's how it stood at the end of 60-minutes plus overtime, 1-1. Then...everyone got to suffer through the most brutal event in the World of Soccer: Penalty Kicks. (They should just drop the cute euphemism and call them what they really are: Slow Torture--for the kicker, the goalie...and the agonized parents). And the final result? Derek's team, having poured every last bit of their heart and guts onto the field, ended up losing by one shot. Although several of his teammates broke down in tears when it was over, we adults felt absolutely nothing but intense pride for our kids They never backed down, they gave it everything they had, and they astounded even those of us who've been watching them since, oh, first grade. Just...wow. (And thank goodness Derek himself, being his father's laid-back son, took the defeat fully in stride. He seems to instinctively flow with the concept of "Win Some, Lose Some". Within 10 minutes of the final whistle, he was happily throwing a football around with a pack of his teammate-pals. Resiliency is a beautiful thing!)

But, the day was not over for some of us. After being subjected to that emotional wringer, we still needed to mosey over to the adjacent field and cheer on Riley's U10 Hornets, already embroiled in their own fierce playoff contest. Now these little guys, bringing a wide variety of soccer experience and skill to their team (a mixture of "younger brothers", like Riley--who have been kicking a ball around practically since they learned to walk--with some relative novices thrown in) had posted a 2-5 record leading up to the playoffs. Recently, however, they had started to show vast improvement in their teamwork and overall play, and had finally seemed to "gel" as a unit on the field. Rather than the early-season (utterly ineffective) tactic of "swarming to the ball", they were doing a much better job of playing their positions, looking for teammates to pass to, moving the ball downfield, and defending their goal. (Here again it's easy to separate the newbies from the old hands--um, feet--there's Riley, who approaches the match with calm determinism, every throw-in, every pass, every clear...and then there are still munchkins who pump their fist every time they get a foot on the ball. But hey, their eight-year old exuberance is adorable!) With less than a minute left in the game, the score stood all tied-up at 1-1. Sound familiar? Inwardly I cringed, and braced myself for yet another gut-wrenching overtime situation. But wait...Riley has the ball, he dribbles toward the goal, he sends a pass across the middle to his friend (AKA the team's goal-scoring leader), who shoots...and scores! A thrilling last-second victory for the Hornets (and a vast relief for this Mom, who had frankly used up about a month's worth of adrenaline and was ready for a nap...yes, at noon.)

So, we enjoyed an altogether inspiring day of athletic accomplishment (with enough nail-biting moments thrown in to keep us on our toes) that I'm sure we'll remember for quite some time. It certainly was a rousing way to end the season, and now we can relax and...oh wait, I almost forgot...we have to do it again one more time...tomorrow! Maybe I can find some Valium lying around before then...

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Balanced Nutrition for the Lazy Chef

I know this is going to come as a tremendous shock to everyone, but today I'm going to write about FOOD...again! (Jeez, you'd think it was one of my absolute favorite things on the planet, or something!) Now, we all know I strive to be pretty health-conscious, and to make good choices when it comes to my family's diet. (Yes, I'm the one standing in your way in the grocery store, reading the fine print on each and every label, scanning for the word "hydrogenated" (a deal breaker) and the amount of fiber (important, but negotiable). However, given the fact that I consider cooking, shall we say, a Necessary Evil, at best, I encounter some difficult challenges when faced with the dilemma of how to feed a houseful of hungry males--without working too hard at it.

So how do I resolve the conflict of preparing tasty, nutritious...simple...meals that meet my requirements but also satisfy the large-and-small boys? (Drumroll, please) I CHEAT! That's right, you heard me. I load the freezer up with fish sticks and breaded chicken patties and microwaveable cheeseburgers and prepared ravioli, and when things are crazy (hello, soccer-practice-nights) I pull something out. A few minutes of toaster-oven-baking or nuking or boiling, and I can present hot food to empty bellies. Somewhere deep down in the Domestic Goddess area of my brain, do I experience the teensiest bit of guilt about this? He...ck, no! Of course, I still ensure that the convenience foods I choose are as minimally-processed and naturally-derived as possible. (Yeah, that's also me, blocking the freezer compartment at Costco, shivering and skimming ingredient lists...Sorry.) But after that, I plop it on the table and don't look back. Even when I allow the occasional...hotdog (gasp! I know, nitrites are horrible! But you wanna know what's even worse? TOFU dogs! Take it from me, even the confirmed vegetarian can't go there...) I refuse to agonize about it. I figure as long as I serve green beans or broccoli with it, the veggie-vitamins cancel out the meat by-products. (That is how it works, right? Just humor me!)

I don't mean to sound as though I never bother to make a home-cooked dinner from scratch, because in between sports seasons, when things aren't quite so hectic, I pull out the recipe books and exert (a little) effort from time to time. And I suspect that Fall soccer is reaching its end not a moment too soon for our cuisine-deprived family. Example: the other night Derek was sleeping over at a friend's house and Riley got to decide what he wanted for dinner. ("Anything you want, honey, check the cabinets", I generously offered, expecting him to select cereal or a sandwich and chips or, if he was feeling especially wild, pancakes.) His eyes lit up, and without even pausing to weigh his options, he instantly exclaimed: "Ramen noodles!" Oh. My. Goodness. What have I done? I'll tell you what: I've inadvertently gone and created the world's shortest...college student. Sigh. What can I say--at least he selected something cheap, fast, and easy (and not McDonald's)! On a further positive note, as his mother, I can rest assured that when I send him off to a university somewhere in 10 years, he'll already possess the valuable knowledge of how to feed himself in his dorm room when necessary during those long, late...study sessions. (I know I'm being delusional, but keep working with me, will ya?) So really, my work here is done! In fact, I may even deserve a reward for a job well done...hmm, now where did I hide that leftover Halloween candy...

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Memo to Me...

It's pretty obvious to anyone who's known me for more than about, oh, 5 minutes or so, that I'm a person who thrives on order and organization to help me manage my life. I set up detailed plans, I arrange tightly-run schedules, I write extensive notes and keep lengthy to-do lists. And we all know (since I've run on and on about my obsession with "techie toys") how much I enjoy using my electronic devices...for various purposes (Hey, flinging fierce birds at obnoxious pigs is a fantastic substitute for, say, yelling at inconsiderate drivers, right? Although not while driving...but you know what I mean...) However, it recently came to my attention while chatting with other moms at Riley's soccer practice, how much a citizen of Low-Tech-Land I still actually am when it comes to running my day-to-day agenda. One mother was lamenting about how when she downloaded the latest iPhone Operating System, it somehow dredged up deleted appointments from months ago and added them back into her online calendar, causing her great consternation as she struggled to disentangle the mixed-up entries. (Buy Halloween candy? You bet. Prep for Easter dinner? Not so much...) She declared that until she got the computer mess sorted out, she would revert to carrying around...a Planner Book--and at this point she held it up sheepishly, as though expecting the rest of us to ridicule her backwards attitude or mock her hopeless inability to master modern conveniences. (We did neither of these things, of course, but rather nodded knowingly and made sympathetic noises. Supportive Soccer Socializers, we are!)

Then she turned to me and asked, "How do you keep track of things?" Well you see, I utilize the very latest method...I mean, for me, only the most up-to-date type of system will do...oh, forget it. The truth is: I don't bother to maintain (or carry with me) an electronic record of mine or my family's schedule. Furthermore (since I've already started making embarrassing admissions, what the heck) at home I jot actual pen-and-paper memos to myself (crossing items off when completed, extremely satisfying). And lastly (go for the big finish, they're not gaping at you like you're an irredeemable idiot...yet) I have our Master Calendar on the wall by the refrigerator (yes, a paper one...hung on a nail, very Old School) on which I record everyone's color-coded activities and appointments (Riley= purple, Derek=green, Mom=red, Dad=blue, Family=orange, in case anyone's wondering...just how big of a Dork I am...now you know...) NOW all of the other Moms behaved the way you might treat a crazy person who's spouting nonsense: they nodded and smiled in a politely neutral way (while carefully avoiding eye contact, as though that might spark me to do something wild and unpredictable...like maybe ask to borrow a pen or something.)

And I realize that my strategy--while adorably "retro" and admirably impervious to computer-glitches-- has its drawbacks. Like when I'm leaving the Orthodontist's office, and can't set up Derek's next appointment until I get home and flip the page to check next month's availability. Or the days I find myself with an unexpected chunk of free time, enough to accomplish an errand or two, and my shopping list sits on the kitchen counter instead of on my phone. Speaking of which, it just occurred to me a few weeks ago...as I searched my work-tote for a scrap of paper to scribble a reminder to myself...that THERE'S AN APP FOR THAT! DUUUUHHHH! (How long did that take for me to figure out? Mortifying!) So I downloaded a Virtual Notebook and have tried to foster the habit of typing temporary memory-joggers (just until I get home...to the ink-and-paper copy, of course). But I realized I may have truly embraced the online notetaking experience when I pulled my phone out...on a Soccer Saturday...to "write down" goals and assists during Derek's team's high-scoring game. Yeah, that's right, I'm a Soccer Mom in the 21st Century! (And yes, I do want a cookie...and also a "Great Job" written in red, on the wall calendar!)

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Reach out and touch someone...Methodist style!

So here it is, Sunday, which in my house signifies certain things that you can not only expect, but count on to happen. Especially during the Spring and Fall Soccer seasons, Sunday is the one and only day of the week that we can sit around in our pajamas (or sweats, for Husband), drinking coffee (or chocolate milk, for the short...er...people), eating a leisurely breakfast (or...drinking another cup of coffee, for me) and thoroughly perusing the large Washington Post newspaper. (Yes, the actual, paper edition that you hold in your hands and turn the pages, smearing yourself with ink while reading. We're just old school like that...once out of every 7 says, that is.) Derek, Riley and I also make time to attend worship services--and while we won't win any awards for Perfect Attendance, I'd put us in the category of Regular Church-Goers. So in the interest of setting an example of personal honesty and integrity, I have a confession to make. (Even though, as Protestants, we don't technically do that, I'm going to put it out there anyway. Hmm, I wonder if God will check out my Blog? Now that would be cool, right?) 

Anyway, a few weeks ago, while glancing through the Bulletin during "a quiet prayer moment", I noticed that our congregation's annual Outreach Sunday  was approaching. On this day, instead of holding the usual services, people gather for a sendoff-blessing, then go out into the community-at-large to spread fellowship and perform helpful tasks. Here comes the admission of guilt: not only had I never participated in this activity yet, I made a mental note of when it was set to occur...and decided we'd be "busy" that day so we would have to miss it. Please don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm against communing with my fellow man or taking God's work out into the world. If someone asks me about my religion, I'm genuinely happy to share my beliefs. If there's a project that will beautify or improve my neighborhood, sign me up! But I'm just not the "stand on a box, wave a sign, and shout about Jesus" kind of girl. So basically, this whole concept scared me to death. And since I had it in my head that it already happened LAST week, the boys and I arrived at church completely unprepared. (Do you think I gave it away, when we approached our turn and spotted swarms of people in their special orange t-shirts and I blurted out, Uh...oh...?)

Now, had I planned to take part, I could have gone online and joined a group, chosen an assignment, and been all set when we showed up. But since I failed to do that, we just shuffled up to the Welcome Table, somewhat sheepishly announced that we were “here to help” and waited humbly for our “job”. The cheerful greeter-lady seemed stumped for a beat, but then brightly declared that she had “just the thing” for us: hand out carnations at a nearby shopping center and wish people a “blessed day”. Oh…no! This is soooo, WAAAAYYY out of my comfort zone! Can’t I just pick up garbage along the road? Or spread mulch at a local playground? (The couple who arrived just ahead of us got to do that…dang it, we missed it by seconds!) But I put on a brave face for my sons and gamely agreed…so we collected our vivid orange volunteer-identifying t-shirts, lugged our bucket of flowers to the nearest strip mall, and positioned ourselves on the sidewalk between a small café and a grocery store to accost—I mean “pleasantly engage with” the citizens.

And our morning of passing benevolence to our brothers and sisters started out well—the very first man we offered a flower graciously accepted it and wished us a blessed day right back. Yessss! However…most of the next 47 potential takers declined with either a polite “no, thank you” or a suspicious look and sharp shake of the head. (Derek kept count in his head, including the percentage of success, until the turndowns racked up and it got “depressing”.) As we stood there shivering (oh yeah, since this took me by surprise, I also failed to dress appropriately for standing outside on a brisk Fall morning. oops.) I had plenty of time to consider why people would refuse a pretty carnation given to them by cute children (if I do say so myself). Suddenly it hit me: they probably expected that, if they took the flower from me, I would then ask them for money! I mean, folks don’t just give stuff away in this day and age, right? So I told the boys that from that point on, we would say, “Would you like a FREE flower?” and see how that worked.

Overall, I’d say we had moderate success. (Although I was kind of startled by how bummed I felt when people rejected me! Even the boys admitted that the best part was “when people took the flower” from us.) Some shoppers even paused to ask where we were from, and why we were doing this. Many seemed shocked that the flowers were free-of-charge, and several even looked around for a “box to make a donation”, which I thought was a nice gesture. Those who did stop for a chat said that they enjoyed what we were doing. And I guess that’s really what it was all about. Whatever you want to call it—sharing God’s love, sending positive vibes out into the Universe, pestering your fellow human beings with kindness—I like to believe we accomplished our Outreach Sunday goal. And now that I’ve overcome some of my trepidation about joining in the annual event, we’ll be back for more next year. But you can be sure I’ll register early, and try to pull some kind of Manual Labor duty!

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Is this where the Great Pumpkin lives?

D: age 3, R: age...2 months?
When the boys were preschoolers, Fall trips to a pumpkin patch were as much a part of the season for us as changing the clocks back to Eastern Standard Time. Each excursion involved what I came to think of as our own little Harvest Rituals. First we would bundle up in layers to ward off the chilly October air. (Ah, the good old days, back when my sons would agreeably consent to wear exactly what I told them was sensible attire for the windy, 50-degree weather...you know: jackets...and long pants! Imagine!) Then we would don appropriate footwear for tromping over bumpy, viney, potentially-muddy ground. Once we arrived at the actual farm, there would be livestock to examine (and sometimes pet--I know--ewww--but the kids love it...and hand sanitizer is a wonderful thing), and bales of straw to leap over and fresh apple cider to taste. Finally we would take a tractor-pulled hayride to the gourd-covered fields, where we would invest a great deal of time and energy inspecting the specimens, comparing the relative merits of each one, and selecting the perfect pumpkins to become our Halloween Jack-o-Lanterns. Good times.

With an 11 and 8-year old, I feared our era of farm-visiting had passed forever. And this year, since it rained...pretty much through the month of September...we made a Group Decision to "cheat" and choose our porch decorations from the already-gathered supply at a nursery in town called (naturally) The Good Earth, where we wouldn't be forced to splash through boggy fields and lug slippery, ooze-covered pumpkins back to our car. Everyone was completely okay with the plan, and that seemed to be that. Except: Riley suddenly got a hankering to try out a Corn Maze. (Precisely where he picked up this notion, I have no idea, but once that boy gets hold of an idea, he does not let it go easily...) So when my friend called to ask if we wanted to accompany her family to--you guessed it--pick pumpkins on the kids' day off from school, I told her we would indeed love to tag along.

I have to say, this time our preparation required far less work on my part, as Derek and Riley obviously dress themselves these days. (Although Derek complained about being cold quite a bit...to which I responded without even the tiniest atom of sympathy, "Here's a thought: WEAR JEANS!") We opted for Sharp's Farm, an active agricultural setting complete with animals, orchards, crops, and at this time of year, all kinds of Fall activities as well. Funny enough, the boys still enjoyed getting up-close-and-personal with the goats, cows, and chickens. (Never too old to bond with cute fuzzy farm creatures, I guess.) There was the requisite hayride and the mucking about among the brightly-colored array of pumpkins in the fields. (Although since we weren't actually toting any ourselves, we took a short nature stroll back to the barn rather than wait for the wagon.) At the store, we browsed the apples (several varieties) and vegetables (extremely colorful) and honey (produced in hives on the property!) and fresh herbs. (Incidentally, I taught Derek’s nose to identify “dill” and “cilantro” by giving them the sniff test…’cuz I’m sure all 6th grade boys need that knowledge…to impress the chicks? Or some such nonsense...)

But the highlight of the day was (dah dah dah DAH) the “Friends and Foes of the Farmer” Corn Maze! You couldn’t tell from the ground, of course, but the Tour Guide assured us that the 10+ acre field was carved in the shapes of a bat…and a stinkbug (I’ll let you guess which is helpful and which is the enemy.) Rather than trying to scare you, this particular labyrinth was set up as an educational-and-fun puzzle. You encountered questions hanging on cornstalks, every few yards along the path. Continuing to follow the correct direction would depend on determining the right answer. No great surprise, the posse of 5 boys (ages 8-14) sprinted willy-nilly off into the corn, utterly ignoring the informational signs and racing to the finish. We girls (3 moms, 1 daughter) took our time, stopping dutifully at each card, reading carefully and absorbing the interesting facts. (Apparently, bats can live 30-40 years, and tend to have only one offspring at a time. See, great stuff! And did you know stinkbugs have bright red eyes? Me neither! And I never would have accosted one to find out!) When the boys taunted us that they had “won”, we very maturely responded something along the lines of “nyah nyah, we got MUCH smarter than you, so there!”


At the end of the day, a successful pumpkin-patch time was had by all. I think Derek summed it up best when he announced, in his pre-teen, low-key sort of way, “Well, that was fun!” By next year, they may be clamoring for Haunted Trails and Ghost vs. Zombie Tours, so for now, I’m happy we had one more wholesome farm experience to remember!