Surviving January (by any means possible!)

With utmost apologies to Will Shakespeare, "now is the winter of [my] discontent". I mean, c'mon, is it STILL January? How is that possible, when I've had entirely enough cold for a full Winter season already? I guess it's not really a surprise, since I feel the same way every single year--after the holiday socializing and merrymaking have ended, the presents have been unwrapped, Christmas decorations have been packed away, and the festive twinkling lights adorning the neighborhood have gone dark for another year, it's just...blah. Now there's nothing to distract me from the disturbing thought that we have several long, frigid months to go before good old capri pants-and-sandals season shows up again.

Over the years, I've experimented with various strategies for keeping at least a light grip on my sanity (and circulation in my fingers and toes). Since my Grand Plan--the Winter Home in Bora Bora--isn't quite possible just yet, I've had to make do with alternative actions. Today, for example, I opted not to change out of my pajamas. Yep, true story. First thing this morning, I sprinted out to retrieve the newspaper from the driveway and decided that that brisk outing would do for my daily quota of fresh (20 degree) air. Later, I was having one of those moments when I wanted something yummy for lunch--something that was clearly not to be found in our kitchen. But watching the icy wind (I presume, since I was inside nursing my gigantic mug of hot coffee) blast through the bare trees in the backyard, I talked myself out of "hunting and gathering" (you know, just exactly like our forefathers did: driving to Chipotle and harvesting a nice Vegetarian Bowl with extra salsa) and into "making popcorn instead."

Even the polar bears...I mean boys...are suffering the chill. They gave it their very best effort today, trying to stick to their "Offseason Soccer Training Program" (I am NOT making this up--Derek created a clearly-written, comprehensive agenda, including shooting drills, offensive and defensive patterns, and a running regimen). But after about 15 minutes, they shivered back inside, complaining of not being able to feel their noses anymore. So I allowed them to follow a revised Indoor Practice Schedule, consisting of: a vigorous World Cup Soccer match on the Wii; an enthusiastic Ravens vs. Chiefs football viewing; and a calming Netflix DVD.  Hey, since hibernating isn't an option (could you imagine Derek not eating for 2 hours, much less 2 months?), I thought this showed great flexibility and ingenuity on our part. And the best thing? We could accomplish all of this...in our pajamas!

Germ Warfare (on a very local level)

Well, the early days of 2011 have been better for some of us in the family than others. After a lovely New Year's weekend, the kids returned--reluctantly, grumblingly--back to school. (Let me just pause here for a moment and try to express my true feelings on that subject: YIPPEE!) Husband's company gives employees a four-day weekend around the holiday, so he had Monday the 3rd off. We were going to be...alone. Two adults with an entire day to spend doing whatever we wanted! The array of possibilities was almost too staggering to contemplate...we could (wait for it) see a movie! One that isn't animated...and doesn't have even one talking animal! Or we might eat lunch at a restaurant...one that uses cloth napkins and actual silverware! (although to be perfectly honest, we have done this with the kids, but it's getting awfully expensive the way Derek packs food away these days!) And we would be able to choose someplace too spicy, or too exotic for the boys, and NOT be asked to share our meals! Just imagining the blissful offspring-free hours made for such a pleasant daydream...right up until Husband woke up pale, and achy, and feverish...and then began violently heaving his insides into the toilet. (I wholeheartedly apologize for the graphic description, but if you think that's bad, you should have heard it!) My half-formed plans for our Carefree Couple Day evaporated, and I shifted gears to Plan B: "avoid FluMan like, well, the Plague!"

Now I'm sure all of you who are married--or have even ever attended a wedding--recall the special, caring things you promise each other in the vows: Better or Worse, Richer or Poorer...something else...oh yeah, Sickness or Health. Confessions of a Real Housewife of Maryland: I totally stink at that part. If one of the kids is under the weather, be it a stomach virus, or sinus infection, or strep throat, I'm a regular Florence Nightingale (well, usually without the horrific battlefield conditions). You need some juice? Coming right up. Your head hurts? I'll be back in a jif with the Motrin. Snuggle on the couch with Mommy? You bet! But somehow, when Husband goes down, all I can muster is an encouraging wave (from across the room--don't want to get too close to those icky germs!) and a hearty pep talk ("Buck up, trooper, you'll be fine!") Okay, AND a trip to the grocery store or pharmacy to get whatever he needs/wants. (As a matter of fact, earlier today I brought him Gatorade mix and chicken soup from Giant! That counts toward Supportive Wife Points, right? Yay me!)

And--while I know this goes in the Bad Wife column on the Marriage Spreadsheet (because someone's keeping score, right?)--I am unable to resist pointing out that 3 out of 4 of us received the flu vaccine this season--one guess as to who blew it off. I must also disclose (while I'm getting it off my chest) that I mentioned (alright, pushed) the  vaccine to Husband, no fewer than 4 or 5 times during the Fall. The Handbook of Spouse Behavior (which I just made up, but if it actually exists I could be in trouble) might deem this "nagging". But really, which would you rather have: gentle, frequent reminders to do something healthy...or an "I told you so" while suffering grave intestinal distress? (For the record, I kept the "I told you so" to myself--see, I can be sympathetic on occasion!)

So I must conclude that, as this whole Wife/Mother thing is my primary job, there are definitely areas that need some improvement. In fact, I'll start right now! I'll go check and see if he would like some juice...or Motrin...or, what the heck, an empathetic high-five!

Welcome, 2011!

I've been very fortunate not to have suffered that dreaded Curse of a Blogger's Existence (too wordy, let's call it by its street nickname: Writer's Block) for some time now. It seems that lately, whenever I sit down with my laptop for designated Creative Time (yeah, scheduling the magic REALLY makes it happen, can you tell?), I come prepared with a ready-made story...like one of the Musical Monkeyboys will have written a noteworthy song (one that is incidentally just the perfect combination of adorable and potentially embarrassing to their future-teenage-dating selves)...or there will have been a Soccer Sports Achievement that must be chronicled, to relive and relish in years to come...or a Minor Medical Mishap will have occurred, that turns into an almost instant "we'll laugh about this later" if I can just capture it on paper--I mean "screen" moment.

But I have to confess, I'm feeling some real (self-applied, naturally) pressure here. It's a brand new year. Heck, it's a fresh decade. So I ought to make this first post of 2011 a thought-provoking, existential commentary, relating some small event in my own personal existence to the universal Meaning of Life, or at least the Global Community of Mankind ...and I got nothin'. Let me dig deep, and see if I can uncover any worthwhile Life Lessons from my first few days of January 2011...

--after a week of total togetherness with the Beloved Sons (in which, to their credit, they behaved beautifully--but they seemed to always be THERE whenever I turned around!), I opted to stay home alone and send the three WestMen off to a New Year's Eve party as our Team Representatives. They had their social time, I had my quiet time, and everyone was happy. Lesson: Sometimes, Mom needs everyone to go the heck away and leave her in blessed peace for a while!

--on New Year's Day, we visited my Great Aunt in her nursing home, and had dinner with my Mom, Dad, sister, brother, niece and nephews. We watched a little of the Rose Bowl Parade with Great Aunt Renie. I got to play Spiderman with my 3-year old nephew (he earnestly assigned me the role of Mary Jane...so I obediently sat there and cheered him on as he fought the Bad Guy...AKA Uncle Royce!) Derek and Riley wrestled with their rowdy cousins (who watch entirely too much UFC, by the way, but what can you do?) We all got to gather around the table and eat black-eyed peas for good luck in the coming year. Lesson: Even when they earn a timeout for landing a piledriver on your head (I'm not actually speaking metaphorically here, this did happen...to 2 different kids!), family is precious and should be treasured.

--also on 1/1/11, we traveled to a friend's house to cheer on Penn State in the Outback Bowl. There was much yelling at the players on the television. There was armchair refereeing. There was inventive-but-completely-clean trash talking among the fans. There were awesome snacks ('cuz for me, that's what "watching a football game" is all about anyway). In the end, the Florida Gators chomped the Nittany Lions (sorry), but still a good time was had by all. Lesson: You win some, you lose some, but it doesn't really seem to matter, as long as you're with friends.

Well, there you have it. I think what has become abundantly clear from this little dip into my stream of consciousness (thanks for paddling along) is that all I truly need to make 2011 happy and successful is: time with family, time with friends, and time by myself! That's it, time....to go!

My resolve is wavering...

Buckle up, amigos, it's that time again...we're putting 2010 in our rearview mirrors and preparing to zoom off into a brand new year. And you know what that means: more parties and food! Wait, that wasn't it...oh, yeah: Resolutions! (I should have mentioned this right from the get-go, but here's the disclaimer for this post: I am pretty hopped up on Cherry Vanilla Coke Zero right now, so this may be a little loopy...er than normal).

Now, I've always thought that January was a terrible time to "resolve" to do anything--except maybe "to buy more cute fleecy tops", or "to drink more hot chocolate". It's dark, it's freezing, and I don't know about you guys, but my Willpower is about as strong as an uncharged battery right now. Sure, I know what I ought to pledge...to eat fewer sweets (but the promise of chocolate is pretty much what gets me out of bed in the Winter months); to drink less soda (but my energy has to come from somewhere, until I can get back outside in the Spring and draw on the healing warmth of the sun--refer to the aforementioned caffeine rant for proof), to save more money (but adorable fuzzy sweaters aren't cheap!).

Furthermore, I can't try to master a new skill right now, because my brain feels cold, slow, and sluggish. It's impossible to fight any diet or exercise battles, since I'm stuck inside listening to the Siren Call of the Cookies. There's no way I could work on cultivating a calmer, more patient demeanor...as my sons are also trapped inside with me, tearing around the house, shrieking like Banshees, pummeling each other, WRECKING my meditation-- or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing @#$% serenely. Therefore, I've reached the incontrovertible conclusion that the act of making New Year's Resolutions is:  A) a waste of time and effort; B) a one-way ticket to Guiltsville, by way of Failuretown; and C) yet another reason to be grumpy in January. And who needs that kind of negativity and pressure, when you can grab another cookie, dip it into your mug of cocoa, and snuggle up in a wooly blanket until...April or so? Now to find some trashy TV, and settle in for the long haul. Happy New Year, everyone!

The Dangers of Recycling!

As a parent, especially as a mother of rough-and-tumble, full-contact-sport boys, my natural state of being is one of disaster-preparedness and constant low-level alert, due to the potential for any normal, everyday event to abruptly transform into a Hazardous Situation, fraught with all kinds of peril. You want to climb over the neighbor's 6-foot wooden fence to retrieve your ball? You could fall and break something! You could get a splinter! You could...rip your pants! Just about every possible game they devise--whether it involves a ball, pretend-swords, or some form of wheeled vehicle--involves the risk of danger and personal injury. I call it "a mother's nightmare waiting to happen"; they just call it...EXTREME FUN. So my personal Mom's Motto has long been: "any day without a trip to the Emergency Room is a good day".

And I may deeply regret jinxing myself this way, but we have gone 10 3/4 years without either one of my sons requiring that dreaded trip to the ER (yes, I'm knocking on wood as I type this). With all of their leaping off of things, and barreling over things, and flinging themselves at things, somehow they've managed to remain intact (so far). Their father, however...ended up at the hospital today after suffering a grievous Shopping Injury! Let me explain...we set off on a family Errand Trip with a few tasks to accomplish. First on our list: Best Buy, which takes back and recycles old TVs and DVD players, of which we had one of each to dispose of, in a hopefully responsible and ecological manner. I had attempted to take care of this particular job alone, but found myself utterly unable to get my arms around the 27-inch, 60-pound CRT TV to lift it into my car. Long-armed Husband to the rescue. He wrestled it up the stairs, into the back of my Subaru, out of the car at Best Buy, into the store, and onto the counter. So far, so good. Meanwhile, I drove off to find a parking spot, then joined all of the boys inside.

Assuming that Husband was working on the TV transaction, Derek and I then applied ourselves to finding a cord for his electronic drum set. As we tagged along behind a helpful saleswoman toward the back of the store, I noticed that we seemed to be following a trail of blood drops on the floor. Hmmm, curious...

After procuring the appropriate power cord, Derek and I reunited with Royce and Riley at the front door...where Royce appeared to be clutching a tissue to his finger...and bleeding. (Aha! mystery solved!) It seems that when the clerk had pulled the TV toward himself to remove it from the counter, Royce's finger was still underneath, and had been sliced open. And here, my friends, is where being a Veteran Parent serves you well--I examined the wound critically, and determined with my best (non-medical-professional) judgment that it was "about 50/50" he'd need stitches. We proceeded to treat the injury with supplies at hand (antiseptic ointment, gauze, bandage, and tape from my car's First Aid kit). When we had stabilized the injury (have I logged too many hours of Grey's Anatomy in my life, I ask you?), it was time to address the other pressing issue: should we complete our errands, or go straight to the next step (you know, obtaining ACTUAL medical assistance)?

Holding his hand up above heart level to minimize further bleeding, Royce gamely suggested we finish up. Since the finger clearly wasn't broken, the bandage seemed to be holding, and the bleeding was contained, I agreed. (It never even occurred to me at the time, but I'm sure the Best Buy employees were soooo happy to see us leave their store. Customers oozing blood have got to be bad for business!)

We calmly bought Derek snow boots, we efficiently made a Costco run, and then we matter-of-factly headed home so Royce could pick up his wallet and drive himself to the ER. I figured he'd be a while, since he didn't have a gushing cut, or a protruding bone, or an obvious head injury...but he strolled back in after a fairly short time, having received 5 stitches, a physician-applied dressing, and a tetanus shot ("just in case"--maybe it was...rusty plastic). All-in-all, quite a bit more dramatic than the usual routine Family Mall Outing...and to think, the entire experience happened because we wanted to do our bit for the environment! Well, I think Mother Nature owes us a major apology! (I'll take sunshine and 70 degrees for a few weeks in the middle of winter; that should about do it...)

Santa Baby (here's what *I* wish for...)

Every year my mother STILL asks me what I want for Christmas. It's very sweet--she likes to have colorfully-wrapped presents under the tree at her house for everyone, including all of the adults and grandkids alike. As a grownup, though, it can be difficult for me to think of what to write down on my Wish List. Sizing schemes for women's clothes are so bizarre these days that things tend not to fit me unless I try them on first...and I'm totally picky about what I like and don't like to wear, so I buy all of my own apparel. If something breaks or wears out in the house and we really need it, I replace it. If there's anything I want during the year, I go ahead and buy it. So basically there's nothing I want or need come holiday time. However, there are some fanciful dream-gifts that I would LOVE to receive, if Santa could find it in his heart--and sleigh--to bring them.

--a House Elf: our own little Dobby would cheerfully perform all the onerous household tasks I loathe, such as cooking, cleaning, laundering, etc. (oh wait, I guess that's ALL of them...)

--a Star Trek-type Transporter thingie:  sometimes, I enjoy driving--over winding roads, through the countryside, watching the peaceful scenery flow by. Other times, like during daily errand-running, not so much: honking horns, traffic lights, bumper-to-bumper cars, stop-and-go mayhem. At these times, I'd prefer to just be "zapped" to my destination and home again, with no muss, no fuss. (and I'd LOVE to say "Beam me up, Scotty!" Don't say it, I already know: Nerd.)

--a Tropical Island Retreat: you see, I could just pop over in my handy-dandy Transporter whenever I'd had it up to my earwarmers with the Winter cold (that would be fairly often...okay, DAILY). I could take in some ocean breezes, soak up some toasty sunshine, then zip back for dinnertime with the Fam (or not...maybe just a few more minutes...check back tomorrow...)

--an Internal Heater: for times when I have to be at home in the frosty Mid-Atlantic (I realize that doesn't sound too tough, but trust me, it's COLD here!). This device would regulate my core temperature, radiating warmth all the way out to my fingers and toes whenever they seemed the least bit chilly. Maybe I could splurge for the Deluxe version that would also alert you to other potential System Concerns..."your blood sugar is falling--have a snack before you yell at someone!" or "your energy and fluid levels are low--coffee is needed, ASAP!" (As a matter of fact, this one I really do need, badly...maybe I can find myself an inventor!)

Hey, Kris Kringle and his merry elves are supposed to be magical, right? These could happen! Ooh, I really hope I'm on the "Nice" list...maybe it's not too late to earn some last-minute some brownie points....um, I'm going to go spread some Holiday Cheer! May you get everything you hope for this season! Ho, ho, ho!

Countdown to Christmas...

When you were a kid, did you become a little bundle of twitchy anticipation and impatience in the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas? If you were like me--boosted by adrenaline and candy canes and hot cocoa--you alternated between manic fits of breathless excitement, and quiet periods of exhausted sugar-crashes. And then the Toy Catalogs arrived, acting like a brightly-colored Yule Log that sprinkled fuel onto my already-blazing holiday fire. My siblings and I thumbed through the shiny pages so often, they became tattered and smudged. We circled and bookmarked the gifts we wanted to put on our Wish Lists, and wrote out neat, careful copies for my parents and Santa. (Mine probably had footnoted page numbers, attached pictures with descriptive captions, and a bibliography to clearly inform the Elves about where they could locate my Most Wanted Items. Yes, I was a mini-nerd even then...)

And of course my kids now do the same thing with the modern-day, slickly-produced, ginormo Toys 'R Us and Target magazines that plunk down on our driveway with the Sunday paper, before the Thanksgiving turkey and pumpkin pie have even been fully-digested. This year, clutching my coffee on that chilly November morning, I watched them both as they huddled together over the catalog, and listened to them exclaim over all of the cool new video games. As it happens more and more often these days, I got a sudden jolt just then of: "my little boys are...not so little anymore". For the first time that I can remember, they skipped right over the Superhero Action Figures and the Matchbox Cars and the Construction Sets and made a beeline directly to the Electronics section. After thoroughly perusing, rating, and selecting Wii games and DS games, they took a side trip to the Music pages and the Sporting Goods. Then, they were done.

So it seems to me that my 10 and 7-year old sons have ridiculously sophisticated taste for their tender ages, but I'm sure "Santa" will be able to figure it out. (Of course, I annotate their lists for the grandparents with exact item numbers, photographs, and additional product information as necessary...hey, sometimes being a nerd is very helpful!) I do feel sort of nostalgic for those bygone days when they used to sit around on the floor in their pjs on Christmas morning, setting up the Fisher Price Farm or building towers of blocks. This year it'll be louder (when Derek opens his electronic drum pad) and more rambunctious (when they practice shooting goals into their new soccer net--but at least that's outside!) On the upside, I won't be tripping over Little People or zigzagging around wooden houses erected all over the Living Room...and when they calm down long enough to plop on the couch and test out their new games, I will be able to sip my coffee with Christmas peace and joy (I hope)!

Mother of the Band...

Our household, always musically-inclined to begin with, is positively rocking these days. Derek--who's wanted to be a drummer probably since the day he picked up his toddler spoon and banged it on the table--has finally hooked up with some classmates to form a 5th-grade band. Between them, they have multiple electric guitars and amps, a drumset, and a microphone (But no Roadies to haul their stuff--oh that's right: they just call them "Dad"! And the Tour Bus that gets them to each other's houses? Mom's sensible Subaru!). The boys schedule rehearsals and get together in one of the boy's basements to "jam".  On the business end, they're collaborating on a band name and logo at the moment. They're writing songs and working on playing cover tunes together. Yeah, he's definitely living the dream! (All he needs is some groupies....wait, what am I saying? Then we'd have to hire Security to keep the squealing 10-year old girls away!)

Riley, not to be outdone, (and wanting to be exactly like his older brother, of course) has been diligently toiling away at his desk in his room, composing his own songs. He went to school and recruited three of his 2nd-grade friends to join his group (they might not have ANY idea what he's talking about, but they gamely agreed to sign on!). And what could a 7-year old possibly find to sing about? Well, you heard (okay, SAW) it here first, a sample from Riley's future Debut Album:  "I'm too awesome, you're just a possum. You are not a punk, sitting in your bunk. Too awesome, get a grip, conquer your fears, or I'll give you tears!" (I'll bet Jon Bon Jovi started out in elementary school writing tunes similar to this one!) Whereas Derek prefers to be a non-vocal band member, Riley seems to have a classic Lead Singer personality. Last night, as a matter of fact, I heard him humming a recognizable tune ("Break Your Heart", by Taio Cruz, if you're interested) WHILE brushing his teeth (a rare and special talent? useful for fitting in a few minutes of practice before bed, anyway!).

At dinner a few nights ago, Derek started imagining out loud about "someday when I make it big and play in huge arenas for thousands of screaming fans". Yes, sweetie, that would be an exciting and fulfilling life...now eat your broccoli, finish your Spelling homework, and get your pjs on! (I'm sure AC/DC had to be in bed at 8:45 once upon a time too...)

Decembrrrrrrr!

For the second year in a row (and YES, I am counting!) the Mid-Atlantic region is experiencing extra-cold weather, extra-early. It's freezy, it's breezy, it's snow-showery...I'd embellish some more, but I can't feel my fingers too well right now. This leads me to my topic for the day: in an effort to continue the grateful and joyful spirit of the Holiday Season--even while shivering--I'm going to focus on a few things I really do love about this dark, frigid month...

--A nice big mug of hot tea: (which is why I am now typing with ease--you didn't even notice me going to the microwave to zap some herbal-lemon-ginger green tea, did you?) Steam wafts up my nose, clearing my sinuses temporarily. Heat radiates to my numb digits, wrapped completely around the ceramic cup. I can track the warmth as it spreads down my throat, to my stomach, and eventually all the way to my toes. Aaahhh.

--Related topic: hot chocolate: (made with real milk, not water). Smothered in mini-marshmallows (the soft kind, NOT the crunchy little balls of petrified sugar that come in the hot chocolate mix).  Who says this stuff is just for kids? Mmmm...

--Festive music on the radio: Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas, Bruce Springsteen rocking Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Josh Groban caroling O Holy Night, Johnny Mathis warbling Winter Wonderland. Old favorites, new classics--they set the proper celebratory mood for the holiday season. (I do draw the line, however, at I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas, and other such atrocities--I have my standards!)

--Lights, lights, lights! Whether driving around after dark (easy to do, in this minimal-daylight month), or venturing out for a walk before dinner (more like "a waddle" after layering on all the necessary wind-and-chill-blocking items one needs to enjoy the Great Outdoors these days), I revel in the sparkly, twinkly displays all around me. Wreaths, inflatable snowglobes, colored lights hanging from the roof, candles in the windows, I love them all.  Even the houses that are SO bright they blind you--like a camera flash--or the Nativity sets with personal touches...like penguins or polar bears peacefully planted alongside the Magi, greeting the baby Jesus! Whether I ooh and aah, stop and stare, or just giggle, they all make me happy.

--Treats: explanation needed? Cookies, candy canes, red-and-green-wrapped chocolates (they do taste better when dressed up that way, am I right?)...and the implicit permission to eat them all, in keeping with the true meaning of...oh, nevermind, it's just a fun indulgence!

--Christmas shows: although my kids are at that awkward stage, where they're "too old" for the animated shows, and too young to get all nostalgic about it. That's okay, I'll watch them myself! Who can resist "in Whoville they say, that the Grinch's small heart grew 3 sizes that day"? Or the campy fun of the Miser Brothers ("I'm Mr. White Christmas; I'm Mr. Snow")? Or the heartwarming cuddliness of A Muppet Christmas ("Oh, Ker-my?) Or Charlie Brown's scraggly pine tree, that blossomed when fed with hope and love? A warm blanket, a soft couch, and a collection of classic DVDs makes for a very merry December night!

--Secrets: of the very best kind! Picking out gifts, snatching the boxes when they show up on the porch (and while we're at it: thank GOODNESS for Amazon! I just can't imagine what I'd do without everyone's favorite Internet Elves!), stashing bags in closets and under beds, wrapping in the dark of night. All for the huge reward of seeing eyes light up and mouths drop open when they unveil their surprises on Christmas morning.

So, my friends, to quote yet another classic, "These are a few of my favorite things" (go ahead, sing along, you know you want to : ) I hope this wintry time of year is chock-full of smiles and joy for you, too!

Classic Rock for the Next Generation

My kids are still young enough that they tolerate their parents, listen to stories about "when we were young" without grimacing, and even (for the moment, at least) accept our behavior with a minimum of eye-rolling or morbid embarrassment. So, for example, when an old Bon Jovi song comes on the radio, and Mom turns it up to wail along ("whoa-oh, livin' on a prayer!"), they might be a tad surprised for a moment, but they take it in stride. In fact, after his initial confusion, Derek nonchalantly stated, "Sure, I know that song from playing Lego Rock Band on the Wii." Thank goodness for technology...so yet another generation can fully appreciate the power and awesomeness of a classic hair band.

Then there's Riley, who yesterday was on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, humming a snatch of song to himself ("na, na, na na na, nananananananana na na na"--it doesn't really translate to the page, you'll have to trust me here.) It was a very clear, strong beat, and I was only half paying attention when suddenly in my head--as though it was Riley Radio--I heard the actual singer start the lyrics...and it was Ozzy Osbourne. My 7-year old was just doing a little Black Sabbath tune before school. When I told Derek about it a few minutes later, he added, "Last time Riley was playing air hockey in the basement, he was singing that song, you know, it goes 'all of my love, all of my love'..." Um, Led Zeppelin? Good. Grief.  I have a budding classic-rock-heavy-metalhead on my hands. (But let's just be clear: there will be no piercings, tattoos, or leather apparel until you're at least 18!)

Finally, Derek has been loving his drum lessons so far. This week his teacher brought his own guitar for the first time, so they could "jam" together, and Derek was on Cloud 9. Afterwards, he requested that I add the AC/DC songs back onto his iPod so he could study the drum patterns. Ah, my young musical dudes and their heavy metal education...I suspect we're in for a loud, wild ride as they pursue their rock-and-roll dreams! (Do you think it's too late to impress upon them how very cool Mozart can be?)