Our weekend in pictures

Andrew on the far right in the front row and Jake holding the football

This weekend was the busiest we've had in awhile.  Friday night was the school Halloween party, Saturday was a football game for the kids, a neighborhood pumpkin carving party, and an adult halloween party.  Sunday was the mud run  in which Andrew and Amelia both refused to take part in because "Mud is gross!"  who are they!?

Decided

Since I have a bizarre aversion to birds, I have decided to celebrate that fact by being a bird attack victim for Halloween.  While googling photos for my costume I came across one of the greatest photos I have ever seen:

In the presence of winged creatures, I am totally this lady.

Our Cub

The people that live behind us are scouting fanatics.  The dad is a pack leader and the mom is a den leader.  Their son is a cub scout and their daughter is a girl scout.  Their lives are consumed with pack activities.  Sometimes I wonder if they poop girl scout cookies.

 Since moving in to our new house Aaron has decided that our boys should become scouts.  I wasn't a fan of the idea.  I was a girl scout from age 10-12.  The uniforms were itchy, they would force us to clean up parks on the weekends, and our leader freaked out when my friend Jessica and I played light as a feather stiff as a board.  If I remember correctly, she called us demon worshipers. 

Andrew out right refused to become a boy scout.  At 12,  he realizes that becoming a scout may put an end to any sort of social life he's got going on.  He was spared, which is a good thing because scouts are far too optimistic for my cynical little Andrew. 

 Jake however, is still young enough that he will not be labeled as a freak for being a cub scout.  He joined the neighbor's pack and loves it.  I find the events excruciating.  There is too much pep involved in every thing and everyone is smiling--all the time! They expect the parents to sing cheesy songs and preform skits and know the boy scout salute.  I suffer through it gladly because it makes Jake super happy.  It's a small price to pay. 

I Thought I Would Share

Last year I stumbled upon a really great San Diego Reader article.  When I set out to write something publishable I often find myself rereading this article. It is well written and touching while at the same time holds intimate pieces of knowledge.  Even though I never met Judith Moore I feel like, through the reading of this cover story, I have been mentored by her which is pretty cool.  She Hated Adverbs

Math vs. Reading

Today Amelia told me that math is better than reading. I almost rang the neighbor’s door and asked if they wanted an adorable 7 year old. That is how upset I was.


Amelia has become obsessed with Dr. Seuss books. As a kid, I wasn’t a fan because I believed Dr. Seuss lacked substance. He wasn’t really telling a story with a plot. He was rhyming and that bugged me.

For the last two weeks Amelia has read fox in Sox and One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish a million times. She is fixated on becoming a perfect reader. She gets this way a lot. When the kids in her kindergarten class started hula hooping she begged me to buy her one. She started practicing every day until she was able to get to the point where she could run laps around her schools playground while balancing a hula hoop on her hips. I am not exaggerating, she really did this. It was the same with the piano. Amelia is in a combined classroom of 1st and 2nd graders. The kindergarten teacher in our school provides piano lessons for kids in grades 2-8. Amelia is not old enough. Some of the kids in her class are. She has figured out what they are learning on the piano and has demanded that Aaron teach her. She has perfected the few songs she knows that the 2nd graders can play. I don’t get it. I have always been fine with being mediocre. Amelia, on the other hand, is not.

Back to English vs. math. I am afraid Amelia is taking a mathematical approach to reading which kills me. I don’t believe she is really listening to the story being told. Instead, she sees reading as a puzzle to decipher and perfect. That part she loves. I am alarmed by this. But, I am hoping with age this will change. I am going to continue to do our nightly bedtime stories in the hopes that she will cherish books.

old

Sometimes I look at my facebook friend's photos and I think--oh my god, they are old!  And then I realize that we are the same age.  I am also old and wrinkled.

Aging freaks me out.  It has since childhood.  I realize how ridiculous that is. Sometimes when I see elderly people at the grocery store, it makes me panic. Soon I will be geriatric too and I will move slowly while carrying handkerchiefs wearing decade old jeans.  People will roll their eyes at me while I take my sweet ass time to get going when the light turns green. 

I have been thinking about my age because I am planning my birthday party.  I realize this is odd for two reasons, the first being that my birthday is way off in the future--January, and also because normally other people plan birthday parties for the birthday party person.  That is not how I do things.  I like to plan my own parties because I have expectations and if they are not met I will be grumpy. 

I am thinking about my party now becasue the way time has been flying by,  three months is more like three weeks.  In case you are curious, I am having either a roaring twenties party or a Clue themed bash.  Everyone will be forced to dress up and it will be awesome. That is for sure!

The Theme Party

Last night Aaron and I went to a MadMen inspired theme party for our friend Drew's Birthday. I am one of those people that would be thrilled if every party had a theme.  I played the part of a disgruntled housewife in a pale blue dress coupled with perfectly hot-rolled hair.

When we arrived, we easily spotted the party thanks to the dozens of minivans parked out front.  It's a clear sign that we are lame when all of our friends drive grocery-getters.

Drew makes Aaron feel uncomfortable because he is toucher.  Neither of them like one another very much but force politeness in each other's company.  As soon as we walked in the door Drew hugged Aaron.  I was inwardly cracking up as Aaron squirmed and Drew fake smiled.

Tipsy people make me feel uncomfortable.  I never realized this before last night.  Their farnk honesty freaks me out.  My friend Heather poured Aaron a hefty amount of whiskey as soon as we entered the party.  That left me with the responsibility of remaining stone-cold sober all evening. It's alarming how quickly people's inhibitions  go as soon as they drink one stiff cocktail. 

Against Aaron's better judgment he drank two large glasses of whiskey and started talking in what he believed to be a normal tone but was actually at an extremely high pitch. When Aaron started talking politics I decided it was time for us to go. 

"Am I embarassing you?" he wanted tto know.

"No, but you may cause me ot lose partial hearing in my left ear." I told him.

I let Aaron sneak out without saying bye to Drew so that he would not have to suffer through another hug. 

I dropped our babysitter at home by ten o'clock.  I am becoming old and sensible. Sigh.

I

Boo

Last night our house was booed.

It was around 8pm when we heard a loud thud at the door.  It startled us. I thought it sounded like the thud of a Jehovahs Witness attempting to spread their good news. Aaron believed it might be a needy knock coming from someone that was bleeding out on our doorstep desperately searching for a ride to the hospital. We tend to jump to conclusions.

When Aaron opened the door we were relieved to find a large basket filled with Halloween candy and crafts on our welcome matt. Buried inside were instructions on how to continue the boo cycle. We were to place a sign on our door stating that we had already been booed. Within the following two days we had to boo two other families.

Tonight we set out to boo the neighbors. Jacob had a Grim Reaper mask on as a spooky disguise. Amelia wore her fastest tennis shoes. Andrew, of course, stayed home because booing is beneath him. I told him he was boring.  He shrugged his shoulders while retrieving a popsicle from the freezer before heading back downstairs to his man cave to finish reading What is the What for the 2nd time. 

We hit Brielle and Alexander’s house first. Jacob pounded on the door and we all took off running. Amelia tripped over her own feet and laughed so hard that she peed her pants. wehad to make a pit stop at home so she could change.  Next we hit up Anna and Olivia’s house. Our cover was blown when we ran across the street back home and the kids slammed the door loudly behind us.

A few hours later we heard the sound of laughter and running legs outside. Some neighbor kids stopped at our door saw our sign and continued on to Anna’s. I could hear Olivia shout out “Mom! We got booed AGAIN!” followed by the screeching tires of a minivan fleeing the scene.

And that is why I absolutely adore our neighborhood!

You can download this boo sign here in case you want to start it up in your hood:

Seven

Amelia,

Today you are seven years old. You are still super tiny so most people confuse you for a five year old. This gives me the false illusion that you are still little, but the truth is you are growing up. You have lots of solid opinions on things like what you want to wear, listen to on the radio, and what is cute and what is not (for instance black dresses are cute while pink one are not!).  I can no longer force you into wearing peasant shirts and stripped tights!

 This year you have begun to show some serious interest in music. Thankfully you are not a Beiber fan.  In the morning on the way to school you demand that I,“turn the music up louder!” You sing loudly and out of tune.  You love to have dance parties. Brielle, our neighbor, often joins us during our dance parties but only if we close and lock the door so the boys won’t see her. You, on the other hand have no shame. You will dance anywhere, and at any time even at the grocery store if a particularly good tune is being played. You’re partial to really horrible Kate Perry and Lady GaGa songs or anything with lots of bass.

Dad bought you a piano for your birthday which I told him was insane “God help the man that marries your daughter.” I told him. Clearly you are going to have some serious expectations.

You are obsessed with playing the piano. You play in the morning first thing, before going to bed and as soon as you come home from school. I thought you would get sick of it but you haven’t yet.

While you are growing up quickly, you still do completely adorable little kid things, like saying Vampowers instead of vampires, calling restaurants, resturnants, sneaking into our bedroom in the middle of the night when you’re scared, and calling the song eye of the tiger, I love tigers.

On your Birthday I let you stay home from school so the two of us could spend the day at SeaWorld. I told your teacher you were suffering from the birthday flu. She wasn’t amused. We had a great day together. A polar bear put his nose against the glass right were your face was. We went on a ride that soaked our clothes and watched walrus eating fish, and got splashed by killer whales. It’s so rare for me to get time with just you so I loved every second. On the car ride home you were all smiles and questions. You wanted to know if bees drank water and if my red was the same color as your red. I like that you are thinking about these kinds of things. I wonder what your 7th year will have in store for you.

Love,

Mom