So Darlin' Save the Last Flush For Me...

The toilet gurgled and the toddler giggled. It was the classic soundtrack for mischief.

I stomped up the stairs ready to set the record straight AGAIN about the appropriate use of that fascinating chrome lever.  Flushing is a potty training privilege.  In THIS house, you've got to fill it up to flush it down.  (And by fill it up, I do not mean with wash cloths, toys or toilet paper.  Credit to Sheridan, for prompting me by her past behavior to clarify this particular point.)

But before I opened my mouth, Caed came running out of the bathroom.  "Mom, guess what I did for Dani?  After I went poopy, I let her flush it as a reward.  Because I just know how she loves flushing toilets!"

"Wasn't that kind of me, Mom?  Wasn't it!?"

I've got to hand it to that kid.  This may be the only context in which I could possibly dole out kindness and generosity points for bequeathing floaties to someone else.

Read more...

A Disney Style Downpour

Just a heads up, I'm taking a break from Stories in my Pocket this Saturday.  My brain is a bit crowded right now with the issues of present day, so I'm going to put off my stroll down memory lane until next week.

So how 'bout a Disney story instead?  

First let me say that when we planned a Florida vacation, we had no intention of stepping within fifty miles of Mickey's house.  We expected to spend our last day of vacation just chillin' with Larry's mom and sisters.  But when Aunt Kristi called us Saturday night to announce she could use her magic powers as a Disney employee to get the entire family into the park for zero dinero, we couldn't resist.

We checked out Sunday morning and hit the road, stopping just outside the fabled theme park to feed the kids and meet up with Grandma, Aunt Kristi and Aunt Betsy.  As we packed up our brood after lunch and headed for the Magic Kingdom, Caed observed, "I see lots of Mickey stuff.  And a roller coaster over there. We must be driving in a really fun place. Is this DISNEY?" 

I dodged the question, "What do you think?"

"Well, you said we were going someplace fun, and Disney is really fun, and I always want to go there... I think it IS DISNEY!!"  From there on out, every word he spoke came out three octaves higher than normal.

It's possible we parked closer to Alabama than to the Magic Kingdom, but after enduring the hazing of the parking shuttle, the monorail and the ticketing line, we were finally initiated as guests at the Happiest Place on Earth.  

And folks, it was hot.  You know it's hot when you rejoice at the sight of a lengthy line for Small World.  Because the line is INSIDE and AIR CONDITIONED.  This might be the point at which I question the Happiest Place on Earth thing I said earlier.  

The highlight of the rides--the one Dani continues to talk about--was the Barn Stormer "roller coaster" in Toon Town. Dani had to stand on her tippy toes to meet the height requirement (a fact this overprotective mom didn't realize until after we were halfway through the line!).  But she and Caed loved it.  When asked about Disney days later, she answered while reenacting the twists and turns, "I went on bower coater. Round and round and tru a tunnel!" 

Four hours and five rides later, we decided it was time to head back.  The storm clouds looming overhead had a bit to do with our hurried departure, as did the look of meltdown on Dani's nap-deprived face. 

We settled ourselves in on the parking shuttle just in time.  For a shower.  Our ten minute ride back to Sleepy 76 might as well have been a walk.  Or a StormCenter broadcast, live, from the scene of the deluge, without the rain gear.  It would have been complete hilarity if I hadn't been worried about the kids getting sick.  I mean, after a long day in the heat with not enough sleep, followed by a downpour in which they were soaked to the bone in 65 degree temps, it's not like they were susceptible or anything....

But in the midst of the drenching chaos, I found my moment of magic. I took Caed's hand and said, "Are you ready?  We're gonna run to the car and splash the WHOLE WAY!"

He squinted through the raindrops hitting his face, giggled and shouted, "Come on!"

We sprinted for thirty seconds, cackling, splashing, the water tickling our cheeks and the puddles enveloping our feet. I think I might have even screamed "Whheeeee!"  We got as lost in that moment as we got wet.  

I soaked in the moment so thoroughly I may never dry out.  Here's hoping...

*************

A special thanks and shout out to Aunt Kristi, Aunt Betsy & Grandma for being our gracious hosts on the Disney adventure!  

Read more...

At Least a Dozen Reasons I'll Never Get the Newbery Medal

I don't know why, but often when I mention my enjoyment of writing, people assume I aspire to write children's books.  I'm quite certain, however, that all encouragement toward this youthful genre would be rescinded if they saw this list. 

So here goes, a partial listing of my children's books that remain unpublished--for one very good reason or another:

1. Curious George Gets a Spanking
   
2. The Little Engine that Could if He Just Got off His Rear & Tried For Once
3. Obnoxious McMansion on the Prairie 
4. How Do Dinosaurs Go Extinct? (The sequel of course, to How Do Dinosaurs Get Well Soon)
5. The Cat in the Vat
6. Green Eggs and Spam
7. Goodnight SOON (The please let it be bedtime soon book for new parents)
8. Bread and Spam for Frances
9. Guess How Much I love You. Nope! Guess Again!
10. A Stew for Mr. McGregor: Peter Rabbit Learns the Hard Way
11. Dora Gets Lost (Adios Amiga!)
12. The Big (Gas Guzzlin', Rootin' Tootin' Polutin') Truck Book

*Dear Spam, if it appears I'm picking on you in this list, I apologize. It's not me.  It's you.  You make green eggs look delicious by comparison. Seriously, how is it you continue to be stocked in stores even to this day?  I mean, really, WHO BUYS YOU?

**Dear Reader, that was weird.  Did I just apologize to Spam like it was a person and then proceed to pummel it with cruel insults?  I did? Sorry about that.  This is just further support for why they should keep me from writing anything intended to be read to children.

So what's your favorite children's book?  Or your least favorite if you're feeling contrary?  And double bonus round points to those of you who can make me laugh with an addition to the list above!

Read more...

It Was the Kind of Perfect That Leaves Debbie Downer Speechless

We just returned from a week of vacation. A REAL one. The kind that left me relaxed and refreshed and possibly ten pounds heavier. The kind where even a glass half empty person such as myself can't complain. Because the glass we're talking about was poolside, crackling with ice, lime and mint, and quite easily refilled.

I won't go on and on about it because it will either (a) make you insanely jealous, (b) bore you to tears, (c) make us all crave Mojitos or (d) all of the above.

But I need to just go on record that this was a blessing in the biggest form for our entire family. We found the deal of a lifetime that allowed us to take the vacation of a lifetime. It was the good kind of memorable, which is saying a lot considering we all had to sleep in the same room as Sheridan.

That said, it's good to be back. Earlier today, I passed by Caed's room and noticed he was curled up on his bed. I asked him what was wrong. He pulled his pillow and blanket up to his cheeks and said, "Nuttin's wrong, Mom. I'm just so happy to be home!" Me too, Buddy. ME TOO!

Now, I do have a fun story to tell about a last minute, half-day trip to parent purgatory Disney World, but I'm going to save it for tomorrow (or whenever I get around to telling it--no promises). And I might also have to tell you the story about the time Becky and I ventured out sailing with not enough training and too much wind. Fun times.

In the meantime, here are a few of my favorite photos:

Our crew of kiddos (Max, Dani, Caed)

Spiderman in Web Climbing Training

It only looks like she is debating going into the water. She's already been in, and that was just her finishing stance after throwing handfuls of sand.

I love the pictures where the fun appears on their faces with unquestionable certainty!

Yipee! A family photo (though Spiderman is pictured in lieu of Caed).

Nothing, and I mean nothing, makes a vacation like quality time with Dad!

Read more...

Stories in my Pocket: The Pitstop (Part 3)

Click here to catch up: Part 1, Part 2.

The grass bordering the highway swayed tamed and trimmed as we whirred past it with eight working wheels.  But up close, as I trudged toward the overpassing country road knee-deep in blades, it was wild and overgrown.  The unseen possibilities of snakes or spiders on my sandaled feet spurred a hurried, jumpy gait. 

"Remember the time we got stuck in the gorge--at Letchworth?  And it started to storm, and we cut through the swampy riverish part, and I freaked out about snakes?" 

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I might be freaking out again.  That road looked a lot closer from the freeway, and I can't see my feet, and I'm wearing sandals...."

He laughed, not the slightest bit nervous. Or at least he never let on as such.  He took being "even keel" to extremes.  I used to swear that if our apartment was ever on fire, he'd let me know by tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "I think we should go now."

It was only twenty minutes before we found a house with a phone and an owner who believed in sharing with strangers.  I dialed and explained.  It's the tow dolly wheel--yes, it should be covered in the rental fee.  How soon can you be here?  An hour?  Okay, please hurry.

It was a scorching morning when we left Texas.  Steam and fog jumbled the air that evening in the lot by the Shoney's where we wished we hadn't stopped, or at least hadn't sampled the meat sauce.  Almost cool by the time we reached the rest stop on the other side of St. Louis, we stopped to see if we could substitute a cat nap for a good night's sleep. And now we waited motionless, stirred only in one second spurts by the vibrating breeze of a passing car. The air pressed heavy with heat, thick with water, uncommon for a late spring Indiana day.  

Our spare tire man must have sped, for he arrived before the promised hour was up.  And I could tell by the haircut he didn't have that he liked to go fast.  He spoke sparingly, but when we joked that he had the skill of a crew chief, he admitted to his days of changing tires in the pits of the Indy 500.   

Larry offered small talk about cars and races while I studied the map.  We drove away smiling. This would be a fun story to tell when we got to Ohio.  

We were almost there.  There, where life would be so much easier.  I sped like the tire man, surged ahead in thought and mapped it all out.  I knew just how it would be. I had been there for months before we even arrived.  Like an eighth grade girlfriend, I broke up with The Present weeks before school was out, my careful handwriting on college ruled paper to say it was over.  I am moving on.  I am over you. There are better things ahead.  

Every beginning brings with it fear, healthy or otherwise. Unless of course, naivety calls shotgun. Then fear takes a back seat, and the journey speeds with unintended courage.

I was afraid of snakes and spiders and of being a nobody. As it turned out, I was afraid of all the wrong things.

Click here to continue reading Part 4.

Photo by Alizadeh100

Read more...

Heart (wait for it) Warming

We have no shortage of heartwarming around here.  In fact, I find myself, the naturally introverted pessimist, frequently smiling the really-truly-can't-hold-it-in smiles (as opposed to the grin-and-bear-it kind).  

The kids recently began engaging each other in imaginative play with the baby dolls.  (I won't go into the baby doll history here, but let's just say, Sheridan's initial behavior was less than nurturing and borderline disturbing).  But this time, it's different.  

They put the baby to sleep in her bed and run down the stairs screaming at me to "BE QUIET!!! Because the BABY IS SWEEEEPING!"  They sing to the baby doll.  They read to the baby doll. They announce when and to what degree the baby is crying, and even provide their best guess as to why:  "Baby cwying wots and wots.  Baby hung'y!  No....Baby tired!"

But my favorite recap of the baby doll's status came from Caed.  And I quote: "We need our blankets, and the baby needs her blankets.  Do you know why we need our blankies, Mom?  Because we don't want to be cold and then get sick, because if we get a fever, how would we take care of the baby?  So we all need to be warm and cuddly with our blankets together."

See what I mean?  Heart (wait for it) Warming.

And in this little clip, they had just finished reading to the very creatively named "pink baby", and are beginning the singing to sleep process.  You'll note my youngest is quite the enthusiastic performer.

So it's quite easy to see why I've nearly outgrown my grumpy pants, isn't it?  They just don't fit anymore.  I find myself wearing a smile instead.  Which suits me and my extraordinarily warmed heart just fine.

Read more...

Oh, the irony...

I could be wrong, but I don't think this is the response the creators of the Jump Arounds were going for, what with all their musical exhortation to "get up, jump, jump, get down".

And speaking of the creators of the Jump Arounds, I'm thinking incarceration might be appropriate, with a TV of course, where nothing but the Jump Arounds shows for hours on end.

I figure that would be an appropriate way to address the problem, much easier than taking responsibility as the lame-o parent who actually exposed my child to what might rival Barney as the most frightfully annoying kid's show EVER.

I'll chalk it up to 15 minute lapse in judgment, which is a pretty long lapse, considering the music I had to endure in the background.

So, for the sake of our ears and our sanity, tell me, what kids' shows do you think must be avoided at all costs?

Read more...

Stories in my Pocket: Mountains and Molehills (Part 2)

Click here for Part 1. 

"Oh yahyess, you've just gotta go up to Fort Seeuhl. There's mountin climbin' and you can see like five states awahyee," the old temp bubbled on about the day trips I'd just hafta take during my short stay in Texas.

Just a year out of high school, she was already moving up to a permanent office job, that is, after she trained the new temp. We were done in a day or two, and she told the boss it was because I was a quick learner. Except for driving the pallet mover. I had to ask her twice about that.

I stood at a folding table in a loft-like portion of the warehouse, watching the line below churn out product as I stuffed binders with specs and cleared my head a million times over. With so many thoughts taken captive, the holding cells tended to overload. Those dreadful thoughts often rose up in revolt and staged cerebral jail breaks. They turned on me--questioning, accusing, doubting, and holding me hostage with a pointed finger.

That degree I was so anxious to get? The one that would surely open doors and change my life? My chance to trade my greasy fast food uniform for a white collar? The only thing it did was roll itself into a scroll and slap me in the face.

To cover the abuse, I read a semester's worth of English Lit on my lunch breaks. Perhaps with my nose in a book, no one would notice the splotchy marks of misery on my face.

Back at the base, my airman made use of his bootstraps. He wore a yellow rope around his sleeve, the signal of a student leader, and Highest Honors would soon be his. He was a product of trying, failing and trying again. To him, rejection was just an arrow pointing to a different path. To me, it mapped the quickest route to despair.

He dreamed; I schemed. He birthed wild ideas and I named them in obstacles. He dug up possibilities, and I buried them under the reasons why not. So when he refused to be bound by my carefully constructed limits--the kind that prevent failure and success--it was a profound act of leadership.  But it would be years before I saw it as such.

I followed him into the fray, not because I was wise or brave, but because given the choices, it seemed like the safest thing to do.

"So that girl from work was telling me about Fort Seal--just a short drive from here. She said there's some great hiking and views. Maybe we could do some bouldering and take a picnic or something." I suggested.

It took us a few tries to find the landmark. "Oh, she must have meant Fort Sill. Yeah, let's go Saturday. I've got the day off." Larry agreed.

Armed with travel mugs, trail mix and a sense of adventure, we sputtered north. Thirty minutes passed and still nothing but red dust rose from the horizon. We laughed at the hoards of prairie dogs popping up randomly along the side of the road and wondered when the silhouette of the mountains might make an appearance.

A short while later we pulled into the lot and exchanged "oh well" looks as we set off to make the best of a disappointing outing. 

"I guess I should have clued in when I told her I was from Ohio and she gushed about how beautiful the mountains are there. I thought maybe she was thinking of Idaho, and I didn't want to correct her."  I said. She really was a sweet girl, even if she did make mountains out of molehills.

On the way home, after another unsuccessful attempt to convince my only friend in the vast state of Texas to delve into a literary criticism of The Mill on the Floss, my husband suggested a remedy. 

"Do you want to go back to school, maybe get your masters? I hear they have scholarships for military wives. You should check it out. Honestly, Jo, you need to find an outlet besides me. I'm too overloaded with school to be your solitary book club member."

He was wise well before I called it wisdom. He knew from the start he couldn't meet my every need, that marriage was not a cure all. 

"I'll look into it," I said, throat tightening under the threat of tears. I was not ready to part with my unrealistic expectations.

Nothing was as I had pictured it.  I earned minimum wage at a factory while my college loans loomed.  I married my best friend and never felt lonelier than when he couldn't relate. And those blasted mountains were just rocky foothills. 

So naturally, I blamed it all on Texas and counted down days until new orders would send us East to flat but familiar terrain.

Click here to continue reading (Part 3).

Read more...

Heavy on the Here & Now, Light on the Windex

Last night, nearer to dawn than dusk, I sunk my freckled cheek into cotton-wrapped comfort and sighed.  "They're at the perfect age.  It's wearying sometimes, but it's so good." I drifted toward sleep while a parade of images from the year before mingled with the faces from hours earlier. 

Maybe it was all the video and picture sorting I had done that afternoon.  This feeling was just unshakeable. These fleeting days will turn one by one into a history of years-- the years I'll label in retrospect as some of the happiest, the fullest, the sweetest.

"Two healthy kids--it's a miracle.  If you only knew how much can go wrong.  It's really amazing," my husband added, both of us awake enough to marvel, asleep enough to have ceased yawning and blinking.

I went on about how tender they are, dependent, bright-eyed, adorable, hilarious, straightforward.  It's easier now to protect them, more black and white.  And to love them, even in tantrums, because they don't yet try to hurt us with words, or accidentally hurt us with choices, or turn us inside out with grief when those choices hurt them terribly.  "Oh", I sighed, "Thank goodness they're still small."  

They jump out from behind their beds ten times a day and yell "Happy Mother's Day", each time fancying themselves entirely original and surprising.  They scamper around the house shooting sound effects from their fingertips and taking turns as 'piderman. They crouch in wonder at worms and dare to touch.  They giggle and hop and show off with ill-conceived acrobatics.

Yes, when another decade passes and I turn to look back, I will know even more certainly that these were most wonderful days.  

If only I could live now with that certainty.  To live like it is a live performance--one that simply can't be missed.  I must stop and watch and applaud, not disappear during Act I to clean up the concession area or calculate the ticket sales.  If only I could live now with a willingness to happily sacrifice getting things done, to forget about a floor without crumbs, a garden without weeds, a window without fingerprints.

I don't want a decade to pass before I know.

Because someday I will look back, sitting on a stain-free chair, gazing through a spotless window, and I'll wish for these fingerprints and the little hands that made them.

**************************************************
In the Tuesdays Unwrapped series, Emily asks, "Where is the gift today?" and invites us to share what big and important moments we've discovered hiding in the small and ordinary.  As you can surmise from my mothery blubbery above, I found my gift in the form of fingerprints. 

I also found an excuse not to worry about wiping the windows for a good while longer!

Read more...

Here, There & Everywhere (RJ Returns)

I had no idea my superhero alter ego was going to come in so handy. With randomness as her super power, there really is no stopping her (and no shortage of topics she can tackle). So here we go (again):

• My friend Heather is a big cheese over at Bloggers Annex and she waved her magic wand, and poof, I'm famous! Okay, not even remotely famous, but I was featured. So mosey on over there if you wish.
  

• On Friday, my crazy "I'm not ready for Kindergarten!" rant will be featured as part of the Dose of Humor column at 5 Minutes for Parenting. So now there are TWO places on the world wide web that are publishing the crap I write my lovely work. (So now can I call myself famous? Famously delusion, perhaps).

• It's Children's Book Week and my friend Danielle is hosting a little sale on Barefoot Books, offering a great line of literature that your children (or grandchildren!) will love.
  

• Our Stories in my Pocket series continues on Saturday, so get those posts ready! Thanks so much to you who joined me in our first week! It really was a treat to read your stories. If you intended to join last week, but didn't get a chance, please know you can jump in at any time. And remember, you can recycle an old post or write a new one. Mister Linky should be up by Friday night or Saturday morning. See you then!

In conclusion (comma) I'm getting a bit worried that the "Random" label is becoming one of the most prominent in that little label cloud. If it overtakes the "Caed" and "Dani" labels (hulloh, the REASON for this blog), please promise me you'll stage an intervention and take away my Random Joannedumb cape, you know the one I had made with the big "RJ" on the back? Yeah, you might not want to wait on that intervention idea.

Read more...