The Games of Life

We had a great wind down to our weekend! Last night my amazing brother and his wonderful wife drove all the way across town just to hang out with our family and play Uno. It might not have been the most rocking Saturday night, but it's the kind of Saturday night that memories are made of.

 

We continued our game playing weekend this evening with our church group bowling party. Can I just take a moment to tell you how much I love our church group. We're all roughly the same age with kids all roughly the same age. They are quite possibly the nicest group of people you could ever meet and I can just be myself around them. So approximately 38 of use (including kids) invaded a bowling alley for an evening of pizza, pop and bowling. It was so much fun! Wesley got a spare and Ryan even managed a strike in his second game!

This weekend has left me feeling like we're winning in the game of life.

Man Cave in the Making

Friday night we went to a family dinner at Aunt Paula and Uncle Stacey's house. I never have to twist the boys arms to go to Uncle Stacey's because he has the ultimate man cave in the basement.

After a night of pool, candy and no rules, the boys were ready to make a man cave at our house. Since we only have a half basement, and we need it for storage, the boys decided to rechristen the toy area "The Man Cave."

Of course, one of the things Wesley likes best about Uncle Stacey's man cave, is the list of rules that are posted. Which means Wesley had to recreate his own list of man cave rules to hang up.

Not to be outdone, Ryan added to the list

 

Quite frankly, those odd assortment of rules will probably discourage anyone from ever visiting the W. boys' man cave. 

The Child Is Not to Be Trusted

Yesterday must have been the day for Ryan to tell a few whoppers. Last night was literacy night at his school and I was scheduled to go in and do some talks about downloading books from the library onto various electronic devices.

 As Ryan was getting ready to leave school, one the teachers said that she'd see him that night. "I don't think we're coming," Ryan told her. "My mom is sick and my dad is really sick of winter."

Um...I haven't been sick at all! Needless to say the principal was surprised when I showed up. Happy, but surprised.

Whopper number two came when Ryan stepped on the digital scale before getting into the shower. "Wow. I weight 398 pounds. That's pretty good."  Yeah, try 39.8 pounds, skinny boy.

So basically, what I'm saying is don't believe everything Ryan tells you.

Love My Family

Wesley's spelling sentences:

1.  My mother works at a library.
2. My father works at Favret.
3. My brother is annoying

Revised Position Description

I am a very proud member of the Mean Moms Club. If fact, if you ask my oldest son, I am probably the founding member. Wesley and I have most definitely reached the point in our relationship where he tells me that I'm mean about once a day.

This morning I got to hear about my epic meanness from Ryan. He tried to hand me his dirty plate from breakfast instead of putting it in the dishwasher - which is something I tell him to do every single morning.

"Ryan! I do not want your dirty plate! Put the darn thing in the dishwasher!" I snapped.

"Geez, Mom! Why do have to be so mean?" Ryan asked me.

"Because I am the meanest mom in the world. Just ask Wesley," was my reply.

Wesley looked up from his breakfast and answered, "Mom, you can be mean sometimes, but you probably aren't actually the meanest mom in the world."

Oh well, at least now I have a goal to work towards. 

Just a Day in the Life of a Public Librarian

Yesterday we had a staff in-service day at work. The morning was dedicated to ALICE training with the police department in the city I work in. ALICE stands for Alert, Lockdown, Inform, Counter, Evacuate and the training was about what to do if someone comes into the library with a gun and opens fire.

I'm not going to lie. This was really scary stuff. No one likes to think about someone opening fire on them or in a public place. Libraries open their doors to anyone, that's part of what makes them so great. But we open our doors to anyone, which is part of what can make things a bit frightening at times.

We knew we were getting this training and I went to it with a bit of a sick stomach. I was scared of how I was going to react. I was scared of getting shot. I knew it was important to be prepared and have a plan, but part of me really hated officially surrendering the idea of the library as a safe place, never mind that I've been aware of that fact for years.

For part of the training a police officer with an air pellet gun came into the the building to attack us. During the first drill we we just supposed to hide. For the second drill, we were supposed to barricade the room if that was possible, hide, or evacuate. Even though we knew it was coming and what was going to happen and that it was staged, it was nerve wracking.

Here's what I learned about myself yesterday. I am not going to be anyone's hero in an active shooter situation. I watched a staff member hold up part of a barricade so the others could make it to safety. That wasn't me. I saw another staff member keep an eye on the shooter and signal others when it was safe to run. Not me. I saw someone rushing co-workers towards the emergency exit while shouting, "Go! Get out! Go!" Not me. I hid and I hid well during one scenario. During another, I ran for the emergency exit so fast that I'm pretty sure I pushed someone out of my way.

Am I proud of that? No. Actually, I'm a little embarrassed by it. I've been telling myself it would have been different if it had been a real work day. If there had been kids in the department instead of adults who knew what was going to happen I'd like to think I would have reacted differently. But truth be told, all I could think about was not getting shot. And then I think about some of the teachers at Columbine, Newtown, Virginia Tech - some of those teachers were heroes. True heroes who sacrificed themselves to give other people a chance to live. I still don't know that I have that in me.

What else did I learn today? I learned to be aware of my surroundings and to have at least a rudimentary escape plan. Oh! And I learned that I may be 40 years old, but I can still squeeze myself into a little teeny hiding place if I need to.

I hope I never have to use the information I received at our staff training, but I am so thankful it was offered.

Not Me Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama.

I did not recently throw away a jar of turmeric that was dated best before October 2004.

I did not tell Ryan he didn't have to take a shower one night just because I wanted to take a nice, hot bath and didn't want him to use up all the hot water first.

I did not completely blank on one of my best friend's phone number even though I have been calling it for darn near 15 years. And I certainly didn't mix it up so badly that it became a mash-up of her phone number and my own phone number.

I certainly didn't try to put my cell phone away in my glasses case and, for a split second, wonder why it wasn't fitting properly.

Scout Hockey Night

Last night was Scout Hockey Night down on campus. Not only were the tickets a great price, but the scouts had the opportunity to work on their fitness belt loops or badges prior to the game. Sounds great, right? Wrong. So very wrong.

We planned on getting to the arena about 45 minutes after the event started, figuring that would give us plenty of time to get parked, into the event and get Wesley's requirements knocked out.  I should have known that things were not going to be that easy after we watched THREE cars make illegal U-turns into the arena for a scout event. Way to teach good citizenship!

We parked the car and found our entrance, and joined the throng of people at the scout check in table. When we got to the front of the line we were told that they were currently out of the Cub Scout forms (plenty of Boy Scout forms were available) and it would be a few minutes before more Cub Scout forms were copied and at the check in table.

"Yeah," muttered a mom next to me. "He said 'no more than 5 minutes' fifteen minutes ago."

So I pretty much knew how that was going to play out. I waited as patiently as I could for about five minutes when I saw someone bring a big stack of forms to the table. "Good!" I thought. "That wasn't so bad." Turns out they were more Boy Scout forms, which they weren't out of to begin with, so the wait continued. When the forms (probably only about 25 of them) finally did show up, the parents rushed the table and pushed in front of each other to get them. Again, way to set an example for the scouts, folks.

We got our form and entered the gym where Wesley, now super whiny and cranky, could start working on his belt loop. However, there was no guidance in the gym. There were plenty of volunteers running the activities, but no one to tell us where to start, or what exactly he needed to do. 

We started at a station where they measured his chest circumference and he whined the whole time. When they asked him to make a muscle with his arm, it was the weakest, most pathetic attempt at at making a muscle I have ever seen. It was so bad that the college kids that were the assistants had to hold back giggles. From there Duane took Wesley on to some of the other stations where he did an ok 50 yard dash, a very sad set up push-ups and a whopping three sit ups in 30 seconds.

While Duane experienced that round of torture, I took Ryan to walk around a little bit and get a drink of water. Again, I was overwhelmed by the less than scoutly behavior of some of the kids and parents. There was the boy who pushed in front of Ryan in line at the water fountain and the parent who watched him and didn't say a word. There were parents who stood in line for the activities while their scouts ran wild in the gym. It was just a mess.

Wesley finally started to snap out of his funk for the last couple of activities - and he actually seemed to enjoy the softball toss.

I'm happy to say that the actual hockey game went much, much more smoothly. We were two rows away from the ice and the boys wound up on the big screen/scoreboard.

We left the game at the start of the second period because it was getting late and the boys were starting to wear down. Ryan was cold and tired and was attempting to sleep in our seats.

And no, the kid behind Ryan wasn't wearing Groucho glasses - I just didn't want a random stranger in the background, so I tried to hide his identity.

The night started out rough, but ended pretty well. Overall, I'm glad we went. I'm also glad that Duane handles most of the scout stuff.

A Happy Valentine's Day

I hope everyone either had a wonderful Valentine's Day or, if you aren't into Valentine's Day, I hope you are getting ready to block out all thoughts of the day with massive amounts of chocolate. Because, really, whether you are pro-Valentine's Day or not, chocolate is always good.

Duane and I celebrated our first Valentine's Day as a couple in 2003. At that time, I hated Valentine's Day. For the previous ten years, Valentine's Day had been nothing but a series of let downs and fights with the person who was my Valentine. It has taken all these years with Duane for me to finally accept that Valentine's Day doesn't have to stink and that it's who you are with that makes the day special.

Duane and I both took yesterday off work so we could be together on Valentine's Day. I've had a particularly rough month at work (lots of big projects hanging over my head) and for the last week, the thought of an entire day with my hubby has been the only thing getting me through. 

I'm happy to say the day was totally worth it.

There were flowers

chocolates

and Duane doesn't make promises he doesn't intent to keep (sorry, a little Beauty and the Beast movie reference there)

We took the kids to school and went out to breakfast at a restaurant where there were no kids in sight. I love kids, but, oh my gosh, how nice to have a meal with zero whining anywhere - especially not at my table. We drove to a few furniture stores and looked for a particular piece for our bedroom and got ideas for new living room furniture (which is what I am hoping to spend our tax refund on  - ssshhh! Don't tell Duane).  Again, how nice to go to stores without hearing "How many things are we going to get? Do we have to go in? Why is it taking so long?"

We took a nap in the middle of the day. We ordered pizza for lunch and ate it while watching a cheesy romantic comedy.

We drove through a level one snow emergency to go downtown to dinner and a show at one of our favorite local theaters where we laughed and drank champagne. We held hands and kissed and it was wonderful.

I am so lucky to have such a wonderful man in  my life.

Cat Machine

At the risk of sounding like a crazy cat lady, I have to confess that I have always wanted to get one of those multilevel kitty climbers for my cats. I know exactly where I'd put it in the house and I am absolutely certain that my kitties would have a blast with it. Alas, I am a cheap crazy cat lady in training and just cannot justify the expense.

Luckily I have two creative little boys at home who made a "cat machine" for the enjoyment of the cats in the house.

The patented W. cat machine actually started out as two separate machines, but Wesley and Ryan came to the conclusion that when it comes to cat machines, bigger is better and they decide to combine their individual machines for maximum cat enjoyment.

Note the multiple bows, the classy purple plastic Hawaiian style lei and the hand made streamers.

What cat machine would be complete without multicolored plastic spiders taped to the top?

The "secret" entrance to the second level.

A patented W. brothers cat machine can be yours for the low low price of $19.99 plus shipping and handling. Offer not valid to anyone who would actually pay money for this thing.

No Butts About it

I want my kids to apologize when they do something wrong. I want them to own up to it and take take responsibility for their actions. That is why my one of my least favorite phrases is "I'm sorry, Mom, but..." If you are sorry, there is no "but" involved.

This evening I gave Ryan a bit of a hard time for having his Legos spread all over the floor instead of keeping them in the toy area. When I told him I didn't appreciate having to climb over a bunch of Legos strewn all over the place to get to my desk he responded with those four little words, "I'm sorry, Mom, but,"

"Ryan!" I interrupted. "Either you are are sorry or you are not sorry. I don't want to hear "but!"

Of course, I said "but" and Ryan (being a five year old boy) heard "butt." 

"Mom," he explained. "I really didn't mean it like as in keister."

Writers Temperament

Wesley is hard at work writing another chapter book. Wesley's writing leaves me torn as a parent. On one hand, I love that he loves to write. I think he's very creative and very dedicated to what he considers his craft. And what parent wouldn't love an 8 year old who likes to spend all his free time writing a book? It sounds like a dream, right?

But there is the other side of Wesley's  writing. The fact that Duane and I would prefer not to read each page as he finishes it - especially since his handwriting is atrocious. The fact that Wesley gets flat out obsessive about the books works on. We sometimes have to force him to do something besides write. He gets angry and mean when he can't come up with a new ideas to write about. He gets frustrated with himself when he makes a mistake and on more than one occasion his writing sessions have ended in tears. It can be extremely hard to be encouraging about something that causes your child such aggravation.

Over the weekend Wesley knocked out a couple of chapters in his new book, but part way through he made a mistake. Rather than accept Duane's advice on how to fix the mistake, or treat this book as a draft, Wesley's writers temperament got he better of him and he threw his book into the trash can. Once that was done, he went to his room, pulled down all the posters he had made of his book characters and threw them into the recycling bin.

I don't know if Wesley was hoping for a big reaction from me and Duane, but he didn't get one. Honestly, I was a little bit relieved since he gets so upset about it all. We continued our late afternoon and evening as if nothing had happened.

 Around 7:30 in the evening Wesley "innocently" asked, "Do they ever show stuff from the dump on the news?"

I decided to pretend I didn't know what he was talking about. "Oh, not very often. Only if they find something very expensive, or maybe something that should be at the dump." That last part was as close as I was going to get to saying "only if they find a dead body."

"If they found something interesting, would they read it on tv?" was Wesley's next concern.

"Probably not," I told him.

Wesley continued to sit by himself looking miserable.

"Wesley, are you worried about the book you threw out?"

He nodded and the two of us went through the trash to find the notebook. Wesley took it upstairs and then asked if he could talk to me.  Basically, he confided to me how upset he was that he had made a mistake in his book and that he felt stupid.

"Wesley, every single person alive makes mistakes. Everyone. I meant to order 2 copies of a book for one library, 2 copies for another library and 1 copy for our last library. And do you know what I did? I ordered 2 copies for one library, 21 copies for another library, and 1 copy for the last library. It was a mistake. Daddy once made a cake and he left an important ingredient out. It was a mistake. Every writer makes mistakes. None of them writes a whole book correctly the first time. None of them. In fact, there are people called editors whose entire job is to read author's drafts and tell them which mistakes to fix and how to make their books better. The fact that you made a mistake doesn't mean you are stupid. It means you are a writer."

I don't know how much of that he listened to, but the final two sentences really sank in. He smiled for the first time in hours, and then got back to work on his book. At least we know he has the temperament to be writer - or on medication (joking!)

Not Me Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama.

I did not lose my brand new nail file before I even had a chance to use it. And I know I didn't also lose the nail clippers (I was the last one to use them) forcing me to consider encouraging Ryan to bite his toenails until I could get to Target.

I did not seriously consider working from home the morning we had a delayed opening because I feel so far behind in my work.

And I know I didn't burst into tears twice in one day because I just feel so stressed out.

I did not have to use the internet to search for the correct answer so I could explain my second grader's English homework to him. That would have just been embarrassing, especially since I have Master's Degree and my concentration (not quite enough credits to qualify as a minor) as an undergrad was English. 

Furry Smoke Detector

We are still snow covered and cold here in Central Ohio. I'm starting to hate all my winter clothes and I want to have a fire going in the fireplace whenever we are home. Duane humors me with the fireplace thing and we have had a fire going all afternoon and evening.

Duane has gotten really good at getting a nice fire going in the fireplace, but we did have a little issue today - he forgot to open the flew at first, so the lower level started to get fairly smokey. Which means the smoke detectors started going off. I'm pretty sure all three went off, although not at the same time.

But the strangest thing was Cleo. When the smoke detectors started going off, she started meowing and meowing and meowing. I don't know if the sound hurt her ears, or if she was scared, but I have never seen a cat react like that before. It was kind of sweet in a weird way.  Guess we have an extra smoke detector in our house now that we have Cleo.

ANOTHER Snow Day

I swear, I don't think the boys have had a full week of school since before Christmas. Either we've been in the throws of a polar vortex or we are shoveling out from under piles of snow.  The kids don't have school again today because, even though the main roads are fine, many of the side streets and sidewalks are not yet clear. We've blown through all of our calamity days and who knows what the next six weeks of winter will bring. I'm just so tired of it. I feel bad for my mom too because she is the one who ends up with the boys when school is cancelled. She doesn't complain and I love that she is so willing to help, but I hate imposing on her all the time. 

If the kids would go play in the snow, maybe it wouldn't be so bad, but they don't like to go outside when it's like this. Which means the last four weeks have been mostly video games and television for them. Thank goodness for Ryan's gymnastics class and Wesley's scouts (when it isn't cancelled too).

The boys are starting to ask me every day how many days are left until spring. They are starting contemplating emptying their piggy banks to see if it would help get us someplace where it isn't snowing - Disney World is their first choice. I just want winter to end.

Bribing the Warden

The boys have been sent to their rooms quite a few times lately. I'm not sure if they are being that bad, or of my patience is worn that thin, but solitary confinement has been a way of life here.

The other day I sent Ryan to his room and he burst into tears. He stomped upstairs, shut his door, locked it and proceeded to pout. After about ten minutes had passed Ryan opened his door and asked if he was allowed to come out yet.

"Not yet," I called back.

A beat passed, then Ryan said in the sweetest little voice imaginable, "If you let me come out now, I'll give you a big kiss."

The sad part is, I really had to stop and consider that offer.

That's One Rich Tooth Fairy

The going rate for a tooth at our house is two $1 coins per tooth. It's been like that since Wesley lost his lost his first tooth and I imagine it will be the same when Ryan starts loosing his teeth too. That's why I'm a bit confused as to why, when Wesley woke up and saw the coins the tooth fairy left, he and Ryan were convinced each coin was worth $100.

Maybe it's because of all the expensive Lego sets the boys have been looking at. I mean, they already had picked out which sets they were going to buy with the new windfall before Duane and I were even out of bed. 

"Dad," I heard Wesley say from Duane's side of the bed. "What does the one zero zero on this coin mean?"

Duane took a sleepy look at the coin and said, "One dollar."

"Oh. So it doesn't mean one hundred?" Wesley asked with a bit of hope still in his voice.

"Well, it means one hundred cents, which is one dollar."

I heard Wesley head downstairs and break the news to his brother. Guess they'll just have to save up for the Legos the old-fashioned way.

Not Me Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama.

I did not crawl into bed at 8:30 one night because I was freezing, couldn't get warm and our bedroom is the warmest room in the house. And even if I did, there is no way one husband, two kids and three cats soon joined me there.

 There is no way I had to fight back actual tears of sadness when I learned school would be closed for a second day in a row. And I certainly didn't call my mom to arrange babysitting AND to apologize that she would end up watching my kids again.

I have not started have long daydreams about beach vacations, cruises, another trip to Disney World or any kid of get away that involves warmth.

I did not catch myself as I was to put my purse in the fridge at work, rather than my lunch.

I did not spend part of my Sunday night feeling like I had a big project due the next day, even though I knew it wasn't true. 

Race Day Recap

Wesley is now a veteran Pinewood Derby participant. He didn't win any trophies, but he had a great time!

In the first lane of the track on the first heat of the race!

 

C'mon Green Racer!

 

On deck for the next heat

It's hard to wait through all the scout races in order to get to the sibling race time.

The anticipation was killing him!

Like I said, no trophies, but both boys came in in the middle of pack, which I don't think is bad for their first races. And I learned not to volunteer at a concession stand run by 10-12 year old boys. It was a little much for my patience, but at least I only had to work for half an hour (although it felt like an eternity.)

Food Critic

Last night I finished up a batch of cupcakes for a bake sale on Saturday morning. I tried a new kind of icing for them - mint Oreo icing - and wanted Wesley to give it a little taste and tell me how it was.

Wesley took a small amount of icing on a teaspoon, placed it in his mouth, and because to taste it with all the tongue rolling, lip smacking and discerning looks you would expect on the face of a wine expert. After he finally swallowed the bite, he closed his eyes and took a couple of additional hard swallows before giving his verdict.

"It's perfect," he announced with confidence.

Curious about the seriousness of his taste test I asked, "If it's perfect, why did it take you so long to eat that little bite and give me your decision?"

"Well, sometimes food tastes good when it's on your tongue, but then not so good when you swallow it and it goes down your throat. I had to make sure it tasted good all the way down."

Limits to a Mother's Limitless Love

I love my kids. They drive me up a wall sometimes, but that's just part of being a parent. My kids are just about the best things to ever happen to me and I would do almost anything for them.

Almost anything.

This morning we learned that there are, in fact, some limits to a mother's love. Loose teeth kind of weird me out. And by "kind of weird me out" I mean "send me into the other room, shuttering all the way."  So, when Wesley asked me to please pull his loose tooth out because it was bothering him, I looked my oldest son straight in the eye and said, "Not a chance. You can ask your dad, or you can wiggle it out yourself, but I am not touching that tooth. Sorry."

I joked that I turned into Meat Loaf for a little while. Do you remember the song "I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)? Yeah, that was totally me.

I'd like to think I redeemed myself a little bit a short while later when we were on our way to school. About a block before reaching the boys drop off spot, Ryan suddenly realized that he had forgotten his backpack at home.

"I thought I had it on my back but I don't!" he cried. "And I have two very important papers that I have to give my teacher!"

It was the perfect chance to reposition myself as a mom who would do almost anything for her kids. "Ryan, after I drop you guys off, I'll go home, get your backpack and bring it to school," I told him.

"But you'll be late to work," he worried.

"Yes, but you need your backpack and if I'm late to work, I'll just a little late to work. It will be OK."

I managed to retrieve the backpack and get it delivered into Ryan's waiting arms before the final bell rang. AND I was only 10 minutes late to work.  As long as Wesley doesn't ask me to touch his loose tooth, I think I'm back in their good graces.