Friday, November 30, 2012

Deck the Halls...and stuff

After a restful, long-weekend break for Thanksgiving, it felt like an abrupt, somewhat shocking-to-the-system return to routines on Monday. (Some might even call it "drudgery"...particularly the Middle Schooler who had to resume the dreaded 6:45 a.m. wake-up schedule...) But a non-eventful week ensued, and everyone made it through, getting where they needed to be, completing their required tasks, keeping on top of things. (Oh--and for the younger set, that would mostly be thanks to whom? That's right: M-O-M. And for the nagging...I mean tushie-kicking reminders...um "organizational motivation", you're welcome.) Where was I? Oh yes--now it's time to flip the calendar to December (pause: aaaarghhhhh! okay, continue...) and commence with Operation Holidays. I know, already? Stick with me, elves, we've got a lot of work to do!

Several things signal the merry fa la la season for me. First, there's the arrival of Christmas music on the radio. I'm not talking about in stores, where they start running I'll Be Home for Christmas on a continuous loop immediately after stowing the Halloween costumes. And I won't mention one particular station in our area, which since the dawn of time had kicked off the musical celebration as it should be, the day after Thanksgiving, but which made the unforgivable decision a few years ago to start a week earlier. (Blasphemy! There shall be no First Noel-ing or Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, before the turkey-fest!) Anyway, next we have my family's fun annual tradition of secretly exchanging gift ideas. Imagine it as the equivalent of passing clandestine notes back and forth...only using Facebook these days. Then, of course we have the actual purchasing and wrapping (and hiding, in the case of my nosy children) of said goodies--although nowadays I try to shop mostly online, to avoid the inevitable driving and parking and dealing with the crush of  frenzied humanity that typifies the December retail scene. But then you have the thrill of mysterious brown boxes showing up on your porch, so that's a bonus.

And let's not forget some of the other pleasures of this month. Festive fetes--lots of delectable food + sparkling conversation with adult friends = relaxed and happy revelers. Gingerbread lattes, which are soooo yummy they must be healthy, right? Even whipped cream doesn't count from now until January...because....er...it's cold outside, so your body burns the calories while shivering! (Yeah, that's totally what I'm going with...) And since I mentioned the abhorrent "c-word", at least at this time of year when it's nippy and the sun disappears so early, we have the twinkly lights on people's houses to brighten our long, dark nights. Speaking of which, I have my own bedazzling to do, tomorrow when I pull the stockings and other trimmings out of the storage room. The WestEnders helpers (funny, they're all MALE) will take on the extremely important and delicate job of assembling the tree. (Yeah, we've gone artificial due to allergies--so it comes out of a box each year and lacks that piney aroma, don't judge our fake greenery!) Then we'll all hang ornaments, reminiscing about the story behind each one as we add them to the branches. (Later, I'll go back and move things around when no one's looking, since the boys tend to clump their favorites together, while everything should really be evenly spaced...do you think there's a support group for Type-A decorators? Sign me up...)

Well, there you have it. Tomorrow it's "hit the ground running" to get December off to a successful --and yes, joyful--beginning. After a nice warm mug of coffee, of course...and maybe some browsing on Amazon...and picking just the right CD to inspire our efforts. So then, noon-ish is quite a decent, civilized hour to tackle one's Saturday To-Do List, don't you agree? After all, we wouldn't want to burn out all of our holiday spirit too quickly...

Saturday, November 24, 2012

Thanksgiving Talk, 2012

This year my clan had to figure out how to navigate our first Thanksgiving without my mother. She had always prepared the spread, and we had gathered around her table to share the food and family fellowship. So we were obviously dealing with a huge emotional impact of missing her at this special holiday time. There was no Mom/Grammy in the kitchen, measuring and stirring and shooing children out from underfoot and "thinking out loud" trying to remember all of the steps needed to prepare multiple dishes for a ravenous crowd. She wouldn't be there at the head of the table, buttering rolls for everyone, reminding the kids to use their table manners, and surveying the feeding frenzy with her contented smile.

So, we expected and accepted that our Thanksgiving celebration would include an undertone of sorrow this year, as we remembered Mom and mourned her passing. But suddenly, around Halloween, it struck my siblings and me that...we'd be required to conjure some sort of sumptuous feast...by ourselves! Holy...turkey and stuffing and potatoes and pumpkin pie, Batman, we've gotta plan and execute this sucker...without our Commissioner Gordon standing by to bail us out when the going gets rough! A moderate panic ensued, as the obstacles in our path were formidable, to say the least. I mean, to start with, we have one vegetarian--who had to solemnly promise NOT to introduce Tofurkey into the trying-to-maintain-tradition proceedings. (Yeah, too much, too soon...maybe next year...) We then present at least one youngster who refuses to even consider touching a green vegetable. (Um...these would not be my offspring, in case you were wondering...) But the most daunting issue, of course, was how to cook the...darn...bird. None of us has much experience with such a task, and some of us have zero incentive to learn the fine art of fowl-roasting. (Hello, non-flesh-eater here...) Fortunately a clear solution emerged: pre-cooked turkey breasts available through my sister's workplace. Yesssss, check that one off!

Next we moved on to some of the smaller, but equally important, side-items on the agenda. And by that, I literally mean "side dishes to accompany the meat centerpiece". Here, I got away with making potatoes au gratin, rather than your standard "mashed". These luckily passed muster with even our picky eaters. The organic stuffing mix, I confess, was less successful. Although it included only wholesome, vegetarian-friendly ingredients, the preparation apparently needs some tweaking to reach the moist, chewy deliciousness we expect from stuffing. (Eh, there's always next year, right?) We snuck by with canned gravy (shhhh! nobody cares!) but we almost encountered a major stumbling block with that beloved (other) icon of Thanksgiving dinner: that's right, I'm talking about the cranberry sauce. Now, my family absolutely puts their collective foot down on this one--cranberry sauce exists only in a can. You know what I'm talking about, the jellied variety, that when you finally manage to break the suction and get it to slide out, retains the shape of the steel container, complete with the ridges? Yeah, that's the one. But my sister inadvertently bought--are you ready for this--the kind with real, whole cranberries in it! Gasp! She was momentarily horrified; however, I was actually thrilled and furthermore assured her that my gang would embrace the fruit without question. (This proved to be absolutely true, score one for the mighty cranberry in its natural form!)

Finally, feeling pretty darn pleased with ourselves for putting out--certainly not a Martha Stewart-level, but quite possibly a Sandra Lee, semi-homemade worthy--repast, we could relax and finish off with dessert. And if the pies were baked by the grocery store (which they were), nobody minded. The meal had been a collaborative effort, assembled with love, and we were thankful to have been blessed to enjoy the plethora of food, family, and fun together. That's really all anyone can ask for...with the exception of leftovers...and maybe a well-earned nap!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Tales from Dreamland

Normally, I enjoy very peaceful, restorative sleep. I'm suitably tuckered out from my daily activities to drift off fairly quickly, I slumber deeply through the dark hours (without any dream memories--stay tuned, more on that later), and I wake up under my own power refreshed and ready to do it all again. With apologies to any insomniacs out there, why do I mention this? Because yesterday I uncharacteristically tossed and turned through a disjointed night of restless, interrupted, unable-to-get-comfortable, wired-brain twilight dozing. When it finally ended, I felt like a cantankerous Sandman had--instead of merely paying a gentle visit to sprinkle me with soothing sleep dust--run over me instead...while driving a dumptruck...and delivering a truly bizarre dream as a "bonus".

In my worse-than-usual fog this morning, I tried to figure out why on earth this had happened. The first thing that sprang to mind was a sneaky culprit: caffeine. You see, a week or so ago I decided that the acid in coffee might be irritating my stomach, so I switched to the powdered Mocha Capuccino mix I'd bought to make the kids' hot chocolate...which happens to be decaffeinated. I noticed that I yawned a little more than usual for a few days, then my body seemed to adjust and I didn't miss the stimulant effect any more. But yesterday for some reason I decided to make a real cup of coffee. WOW, what a mistake! My hands shook for hours, I felt strange all day (hard to pinpoint exactly how, just a little..."off"), and then I experienced that weirdly disrupted night of non-rest. Coincidence? I think not.

Now, to the dream portion of our self-sleep-study. We have a mixed bag of dreamers in our house. Husband and Derek seem to remember theirs more frequently, and will recount silly tales of comical mischief or mayhem or just...ridiculous situations, as tend to be created by our subconscious when we're asleep. I've already mentioned that I rarely hold onto any details of my nighttime musings. But Riley, whether because he has a very sensitive nature, or due to that wildly overactive imagination of his, has been prone to nightmares, at least lately. A few nights ago, in fact, he slunk into my room at about 10 p.m., plopped himself down with a heavy sigh, and announced in a quavery voice, "I can't stop thinking about tarantulas." Proud parenting moment: I did NOT laugh! Oh no, I immediately began replacing the image of creepy crawly hairy spiders with creatures he likes, such as ducks and frogs and turtles and...bunnies. (For that extra bit of cute, fluffy...non-venomous appeal, ya know?) So I guess maybe I had dreams on my mind more than usual. And the caffeine, did I mention that I was waaaaayyyyyy over-juiced yesterday?

Without further ado, here is what remained stuck in my head from 3:45 a.m.'s cinematic mental masterpiece: there was a lady (I don't think it was me), her toddler daughter, and her husband. They lived in one unit of a garden-apartment-style building. La la la, all boring and mundane, right? Suuuure--until one day, some zombies started gouging a hole in the kitchen floor near the refrigerator, trying to tunnel their way into the apartment. (No, I don't know how my brain conjured zombies! Unless they drink java, too?) The woman notified the Zombie Response Team, who promptly showed up and deployed the most effective, high-tech tool available to them for repelling the undead: strawberry ice cream. That's right, they plugged the entry point with some of the melty pink stuff, then went on their way. However, the persistent monsters returned, snuck in, and managed to infect the husband. He was sitting on the couch, revving up to become a full-fledged, flesh-eating evil guy, when the wife barreled in and snatched the toddler away just in time. Then the mom and daughter fled the scene with only the clothes on their backs, living on the run and spending nights in their car. (Why? Who the heck knows...zombie pursuit risk?) Then I woke up. Thank goodness.

Sooooo...clearly, the demon caffeine is RIGHT OUT as a morning drink choice. (At least in a cuppa joe--I seem to be able to handle caffeinated tea and Pepsi One with no problem. One more thing I don't understand...) And although I tend to avoid The Walking Dead and other offerings in the zombie-genre, I may have to lighten up on the supernatural reading material a bit until this blows over. And spend some quality time before bed thinking about panda bears....and tiger cubs...and bunnies!

Monday, November 19, 2012

Sweet Talk

I've been the only vegetarian in my household for about 4-1/2 years now, though coexisting quite peacefully with my carnivore husband and sons. No one else has shown any inclination to join me on the meat-free bandwagon--which is totally fine, to each his own. But occasionally in our ongoing nutritional education, a subject will present itself that we all feel a need to explore further. For example, a recent topic that popped up involved the oh-so-benign, sweetly puffy ball of goodness commonly known as: the marshmallow. You see, these little treats that we sprinkle so liberally on top of hot chocolate are held together using gelatin. I know I've ranted about this before, but it bears repeating--gelatin itself is made from...leftover cow...scraps. I know, yum, right? Definitely not vegetarian, and frankly, not even appetizing as far as I'm concerned. (I do realize that the structural makeup of gelatin is just not something most people even spend a millisecond thinking about, but what can I say, I'm obsessed with knowing what's in my food before it goes into my mouth. For better or worse...)

Riley, who has been known to temporarily visit the Vegetarian Squad from time to time, suddenly decided that, like me, he was revolted by the idea of gelatin. So the last time I raided the grocery store, I took a minute to search for a variety of marshmallow made without animal detritus. The only interesting specimen I encountered was stocked in the Kosher section, and contained (wait for it) "fish gelatin". Better...still not totally veg-compatible. This led us completely off on a tangent, as the curious boys wanted to know what "kosher" meant. I dug up examples of packaged food in our pantry that bore the familiar "K" symbol, and explained as best I could in my limited, Christian-knowledge sort of way. When I finished stumbling through the brief facts in my repertoire, what they took away from it was this: "Whaaaaat? No cheeseburgers????" Suffice it to say, they were thoroughly horrified at the sacrifices required by some faithful souls, to maintain their Jewish customs.

But, back to our original issue: how to reconcile the desire for gooey, creamy blobs-of-fun on top of our warm Winter drinks...with the wish for non-animal-based options? As is soooo often the case, Google came to the rescue. That's right, I am utterly delighted to report that one can obtain "vegan marshmallows", in which the binding agent is none other than your friend and mine, that powerhouse known as: carrageenan. Not familiar with the fancy name? Sure you are, it's used as a thickening substance in many products, including but not limited to ice cream. Oh, and incidentally it's derived from seaweed. Plant matter--we're totally okay with that! So tomorrow in my travels I need to wind my way to a natural-foods store and scour their shelves for this wonderful product. Then (providing they actually taste delicious, of course) we can all savor our cocoa knowing that no creatures were harmed to provide us our tasty drinks. Cheers!

Saturday, November 17, 2012

Formula for Success

We're having a bit of an issue with my youngest son these days. Nothing major, thank goodness; it's just that he's becoming (gulp) quite the math maniac. It's true that Riley's always had an affinity for numbers. I mean, this is the kid who, if you use the conversational convention of rounding answers like "it's 3:15-ish" or "there are about 20 people here", will correct you to the precise minute or number of attendees. "Actually, he'll say in a deadly serious tone, "it's three-thirteen." Or you'll see his head bobbing gently as he counts the bodies and murmurs, "18 people." Yeah, sorta cute...a smidge annoying, but I always chalk it up to "he'll grow up to be a biologist or an engineer, where exact measurements will prove critical to his work." That usually keeps me from acting on my desire to chuck rolled-up paper projectiles at him (how many? about 4...or maybe 5...) like an exasperated kid mocking the class geek.

So, one day a very official looking letter came home in a sealed envelope, from the Counselor at his school. I was instantly on alert--was there a problem? Did he have a situation so dire he needed to discuss it with a professional? Why didn't I know anything about this??? I ripped open the envelope with trepidation and scanned the typewritten message: "Your child has been invited"...blah blah blah..."great opportunity"...blah blah..."participate in Math Olympiad". Whew! He's not in trouble, he's just a...big honkin' math nerd. Now, I immediately envisioned how this could easily go either way--he'd be excited and proud, or horrified and embarrassed. (What I actually heard in my head was him shrieking "Go to school early? For extra math? You've got to be kidding me, NO WAY!) Thus I began plotting how to persuade him that this would be both super-cool, and interesting. I needn't have worried. When I told him about the note, he pumped his fist with an enthusiastic "yessssss!" as his entire face lit up. Oh-kay, then, looks like you'll be spending some quality time on Tuesday mornings exercising your "logic and problem-solving skills" with some of your 4th-grade buds. Have at it, son.

Since that fateful day, it seems we've been besieged by digits. Everything has the potential to become an equation. For example, when the guys in our family did the Color Run with a group of friends, Riley's soccer coach (whose son happens to be a close pal and classmate of Riley's...and also a fellow...mathlete--ha!) teased the boys that while they jogged, they should practice some word problems. Without missing a beat, Riley piped up with, "Okay, if 8 people each throw 3 colored packets at you, how many colors would that be?" Sigh. You just never know anymore when you're going to be tested, so you've gotta stay sharp at all times. (I, personally, downloaded a free game on my Kindle where you fill in all the possible blank equations with a given a row of numbers. Challenging, but fun! Once again, I have to wonder where he gets his Dork Genes? Just can not imagine...) It's fine, though, as he's obviously chosen to embrace his inner math scholar. He frequently throws out random number sentences that makes us laugh--Me: "Did you enjoy the tacos I made for dinner?" Riley: "They're okay, I like them, oh, about 70%" (Yes, he does talk this way...) And his explanation? A shrug and an almost-apologetic "Well, I am in Math Olympiad..." And the good times just keep on multiplying. That's it, I have nothing else to add. (Sorry! I promise I'm done...for now...)

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Meditating on yoga...



While I wouldn't call myself an exercise junkie by any means, I do find that regular activity helps me remain on an even-keel, both physically and emotionally. (Stop laughing! And imagine how unstable I’d be if I didn't work out!). But I'm also someone who craves change and loathes repetition--okay, I mean "easily bored". So I run. And walk. And take dance class. And bike. And lift weights. Confession: I do all of this because of one basic truth--I love to eat. Oh, and of course I don't want to get weak and soft and flabby as the years pass. One thing that has become apparent to me as I age (not so much gracefully as…defiantly…) is a steady decline in flexibility. Granted, I was never one to blithely twist myself into a pretzel shape or casually sink into a full split, or anything like that...but I’ve noticed for a while now that my hips, especially, have progressively tightened up. Honestly, this hasn't caused me much pain, or impacted my range of motion or functional day-to-day tasks…that is, until I joined my new Jazz class. Suddenly I wanted to do high kicks and plies and nose-to-knee stretches, and it just Was. Not. Happening.

When I mentioned this to my massage therapist (you know, hoping she'd say, "oh, wait a minute, I can fix that right up for you") she paused for only a millisecond before advising, "Well, get back to a yoga class!" D-U-H! (She didn't actually add that last part, or even imply it, as she's far too kind and caring. But I felt like an imbecile nonetheless for not thinking of it myself.) I used to take yoga when I belonged to the local gym; then for a while I practiced myself in my basement on occasion. But as time slipped by, I'd gotten away from it somehow--and she was unequivocally right: boy, did I need it! So I found a nearby class that miraculously fit into my day off, changed into some downward-dog-friendly pants, grabbed my trusty mat, and set off to give it a try.

Keep in mind, the only formal class I'd ever attended with any consistency was called Power Yoga, and took place at a fitness establishment, not a Studio. So I was used to a swiftly-moving, muscle-focused lesson, where the goal fell more on the "raise your heart rate/tone your bod" side of the spectrum, rather than the "follow your body's cues/flow with your breath" end. My preconceived notions (which I didn't even realize I HAD, until I arrived) were shattered the moment I lowered myself to the floor...and the instructor began...affirmating? She started by reminding us of our purpose for the day, which was apparently to cultivate openness and gratitude. Hey, I'm totally down with that! Bring it on! But as she read relevant passages from a book to reinforce the message, and talked about "accessing the backs of our bodies" I kind of lost the thread. Um...I don't really understand how to achieve that. I mean, it all sounded nice...but it just wasn't sinking in for me, you know? And as we sat...and sat...oh, and "centered"...I found myself thinking "Alrighty, I'm good. Can we move now? Wait, there's more? Tick tock!" NOT the preferred yoga consciousness you're aiming for, to be sure. (As for ‘centering’, I’m pretty certain I still don’t know what that means…unless I was supposed to be in the middle of my mat…which I was! I checked! I had a few free seconds while everyone else was apparently busy tuning into their ‘backside’, or whatever…)

But please don’t think I’m making fun of the teacher, or what she was trying to accomplish…it was clearly a case of “it’s not you, it’s me”…as in “I recognize the truth of what you’re saying, I’m just having trouble getting in touch with my inner…self-awareness”…or something. And then, just when I was about to get uncontrollably fidgety, she suggested we lead off with a few “oms”. Uh oh. Everyone around me filled their lungs and intoned the syllable, as if they were creating the sound from the very depths of their diaphragms. The room practically vibrated with their sincerity. And all I could think, as I sat there silently, was “ohhhhhmmm, mmmmy goodness, I am sooooooo not a chanter!” Fortunately, after those few awkward (probably only for me) moments, we got around to the business of taking poses.

While the subsequent physical portion of our practice wasn’t quite as…strenuously paced…as I’m used to, it definitely challenged both my strength and balance, which felt wonderful. (And incidentally, my hip joints did indeed cooperate much better after my hour-plus of bending and contorting.) I absolutely believe that it would be beneficial for me to continue attending class…I might just need to test out a few different varieties until I find one that…resonates…with me. Hmm, could it be I’m just not as crunchy granola as I thought? Well, I can try to improve that, right? Until then, I’ll work on bringing more patience to the mat, clearing out my brain clutter, and yes, “going with the flow.”
Namaste! 

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Family Matters

My extended family suffered a tragedy this past week, a sudden and completely unexpected death that left everyone stunned with shock and grief. The heartache in this case is compounded even further, if possible, by the fact that my mother passed away only 5 months ago. We were already contemplating how to approach this first Thanksgiving dinner--over which Mom presided each year with an abundance of love...and food--without her guidance and spirit. And as if we needed just one more painful thing to ponder, we always rolled my mom's birthday into the feasting and frolicking as well, as it falls on November 24th. From now on there will be two fewer chairs filled at the table, although I am certain the presence of our loved ones who are no longer with us will be strongly felt whenever the rest of us all gather together. So it seems like a strange time to be feeling thankful, but in the midst of our loss I found myself touched by the way my family supported one another. We're generally a stoic, buried-feelings kind of clan (I've always attributed it to our Irish/German heritage, "stiff upper lip" and all that), so I was proud and grateful at how everyone pulled together and leaned on each other. Maybe difficult experiences teach you things about the people closest to you that you never had occasion to see before. Here are some lessons learned, and even small moments of joy, from this week:

Sometimes the most comforting hugs come from the smallest arms (even if they only reach as high as your waist).
Riley, my in-touch-with-his-emotions guy, isn't afraid--or ashamed--to cry when he feels the need.
Apparently, consuming several boxes of Nerds can temporarily take your mind off your sorrows.
If you stand in the middle of the floor and twirl around in a sparkly cotton-candy-colored dress, you can magically lift the hearts of an entire roomful of adults.
Inexplicably, male cousins can manage to turn even a wake into an impromptu wrestling match.
Never underestimate the power of an inside-out superhero t-shirt...it may not fully protect you from sadness...but it might just lift your heart a little bit.
The "right words" to remember someone, mourn their passing, and celebrate their life can encompass soothing, thoughtfully-chosen scripture delivered by an empathetic pastor, warm testimonials to a person's compassionate and loving nature...and also, hilarious tributes to their fun-loving, irreverent personality, the kind that only close family members can get away with telling.

Obviously the consequences of losing someone continue, long after the formal ceremonies have concluded. But during this unspeakably sad time, when "real life" got temporarily put on hold so that the people left behind could focus on saying their goodbyes, I found a measure of peace by recognizing some very basic universal wisdom. For example: hug tightly and often. Give yourself permission to surrender to tears, without worrying about looking weak (with all due respect to Frankie Valle, big girls--and boys--do cry). For that matter, if physical expression helps you deal with your emotions, then by all means go ahead and stage your own little WWE therapy session. And once in a while, even if people are watching, unleash a spontaneously giddy pirouette or two...glittery pink outfit entirely optional (but what the heck, right? Me, I might even add a tiara...) Most of all, life is fragile and precious, so try to spend every day appreciating the family and friends around you. We miss those who have gone, but we hold them in our hearts, and cherish the special memories they left us. And we promise to smile when we think of them...and to keep on dancing.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

What's in *your* wallet?

When I was growing up, money was something that my parents just didn't discuss with my siblings and me. I think it was considered a private, "adults only" topic, not appropriate to share with children. Don't get me wrong, I heard plenty of "that's too expensive" when I wanted some kind of overpriced trendy fashion item. (And we're talking about the 70s, so I'm sure it was always something utterly hideous like wide-legged corduroys or plaid polyester tunics...come to think of it, Mom was probably doing me a favor...) Or the equally popular "we're not spending our hard-earned dollars on that" when I set my sights on a silly fad toy. (Pet rocks, anyone?) But concrete lessons about saving, spending, or making wise financial choices? Not so much. We didn't really get into the nitty-gritty of how much things cost, or ways to comparison shop, either. And we certainly never touched on the taboo topics of handling credit, or managing a loan.

And I totally get it: different generation, values, economic landscape, blah blah blah. But Husband and I have opted to take more of an open-book approach with our kids, to try to equip them as best we can for the day when they will have to steer their own financial ship. So we started giving them an allowance when they each reached Kindergarten age--80% to their own wallets, and the other 20% automatically taken off the top (by the Bank of Mom) to be equally split between a Savings Account and a Donation Fund. Any electronics or video games they crave must come from their funds. When they have enough accumulated wealth, I help them scour Amazon for the most competitive prices. If they tire of a game, we trade it in for credit that they can apply toward their next selection. And this has all gone remarkably smoothly...especially since it means I never have to keep cash on hand to pay them, as everything is online-ordered anyway! (Hey, they're learning about credit already, and even "virtual banking", right? I'm merely preparing them for the not-so-distant future when the government determines it's too much of a waste to continue printing bills and minting coins, and e-commerce replaces the "currency of the realm"...)

Over the years, we've found that Derek tends to be a patient, save-up-for-something guy. He reads reviews of games he's interested in (I taught him that!) and talks to his friends before he commits any of his precious resources. Riley...well, he's my impulsive spender. As much as I try to counsel him on the "less-is-more" philosophy, he's just a boy who likes...stuff. Let's just say money does not grow warm in his pocket before he's looking for a way to unload it on whatever's caught his fancy this week. For example, when informed that it was time for him to receive his November allowance, he lit up with that "spendthrift" glow he gets, and asked to peruse Amazon...for a stuffed Toad character. (From the Mario video games...I should mention that he has FOUR of these creatures already, each a different color...the boy has a diehard collector--or packrat--mentality, what can I say?) Now, as he'd already ordered a Nerf battle ax, (don't ask me, the brother-warriors evidently need more ammunition to beat each other to a pulp in their imaginative combat games. I'm a girl, I don't pretend to understand...) he didn't have enough remaining in his coffers for the Toad. In stepped Derek, who offered to "lend him the $5" so he could complete his purchase.

Wow. Unexpected formal business transactions happening right in front of me! I was not anticipating banking this morning in our pajamas, but I hastily intervened anyway, to clarify the terms of our proposed bargain: "You realize that means next month $5 will be subtracted from your allowance, and added to Derek's, to settle the debt?" Riley nodded vigorously in agreement. "And neither of you will have any money left for the rest of this month?" Both indicated that they understood. "And you're sure you want to do this?" 'Yes' from each one. Riley was practically dancing on the spot in his excitement as he exclaimed, "I'll be nice to you and play whatever you want for the whole month!" Derek and I both reacted with extreme skepticism to this outrageous promise. "Okay, then I'll call you Sir Derek for the rest of the day!" This cracked Derek up, and he readily accepted the honor (and of course the extra payback in December).

So there you have it. The boys' first official loan, complete with terms of repayment, sealed with a handshake (even that was their idea). Sniffle. I'm so proud! If this transpires successfully, next time maybe I'll introduce the concept of "interest" and see where that leads...

Sunday, November 4, 2012

From the minds of 007 and 004...

Because sometimes, you just need a laugh, I hereby present selected excerpts from the Goofball Brothers' very specific, well-thought-out...extremely ridiculous...Plans for World Domination. (I am able to do this because I sneaked the documents from their rooms--shh! That gives me an idea: I think in order to truly fit in with this nefarious organization I need a super-secret undercover spy name! Like Natasha...or maybe Ivana...and don't ask me why my alter ego seems to be Eastern European, if I told you, I'd have to...well, you know...)

So without further ado, here are some highlights of Riley's sequence, in his exact words:
1) Study (why? to get good grades)
2) Get glasses and braces (why? people will think you're a nerd)
3) Go to Yale (why? nerds go to Yale)
4) Get in jail (why? to see police program bombs)
5) Make flash drive (why? to reprogram all of Russia's bombs)
6) Activate flash drive (why? blow up Russia)
7) Same with France
8) Make parrots use guns (why? no more Mexico and South America)
9) Go to England, get knights (why? take over Europe)
10) Get Justin Bieber and Carly Rae Jepsen (why? to sing)
11) Have Bieber and Jepsen sing so loud Canada sinks to their knees (why? now you can toss it in the Arctic)
12) Get hockey players (why? take over Asia)
Why? You just conquered the world!

Um...I fear my younger son may not be using his considerable powers of imagination and creativity for the good of mankind...but at least he hasn't initiated his evil agenda yet. (At least, not that I know of...excuse me a moment while I go check his room for suspicious materials...) But if I ever wonder where on earth he gets these notions, I need look no further that right next to him, where you'll find his big brother, his role model, his partner in twisted, fictional crime. This is the brainchild of Derek, titled (wait for it...) Care Bears and Unicorns:

1) Get good grades (reason: every nerd has good grades)
2) Get accepted to some Ivy League school like Harvard or Princeton (reason: nerds go to these schools. requirements: red brick walls, rowing powerhouse)
3) Graduate with a degree (reason: to wear one of those funny hats)
4) Get hired by a car company (reason: cars are cool)
5) Build some revolutionary car engine (reason: to get famous)
6) Get hired by NASA (reason: NASA is such a nerd company)
7) Design tasty space food (reason: space food sucks)
8) Become famous, endorse Old Spice (reason: even nerds need to smell good)
9) Marry some hot chick (reason: she's hot)
10) Take over a rocket, go into space (reason: you'll see...)
11) In an epic battle between space nerds and aliens, take over Mars (reason: so the aliens can be slaves)
12) Make a trip to Uranus, and find out it's inhabited entirely by females (reason: as a small vacation)
13) Come back to Earth, use aliens to take over NASA
14) Have aliens build a time machine
15) Go back in time, get Dr. Frankenstein (reason: he can make things come alive)
16) Get Dr. Frankenstein to make teddy bears come alive (reason: you'll see...)
17) Make the teddy bears pink and you have CARE BEARS!
18) Call in the people from the National Zoo (reason: they're a walking, talking, animal dictionary)
19) Breed narwhals and horses (reason: to make unicorns)
20) Train your deadly army of Care Bears and unicorns
21) Take over the U.S., China, and Russia (reason: to help your army)
22) Get some nerds (and Dr. Frankenstein) to build some crazy lab-generated creatures
23) Review your army: Care Bears; unicorns; ninjas from China; nuclear weapons from Russia; zombie vampire Care Bears; U.S. Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines; uniraptigerphants (unicorn raptor tiger elephants)
24) TAKE OVER THE WORLD!

Oh. good. grief...besides the disturbing references to the opposite sex (hormones kicking in much?), we have an amazingly inventive-yet-alarming amount of cartoonish combat. And to think the only video games they're allowed to play are rated E-10! I don't imagine Halo contains "graphic scenes of...stuffed animal violence". I shudder to think how something like Call of Duty would affect their already-warped little minds...maybe we'd better just stick to sports and Mario characters and the like...that is, until they take over the world, of course!