The Dangerous Descent to December

Chocolate's gonna kill me.

I woke up this morning to the smell of chocolate in the air. Not hot chocolate, mind you. Real chocolate, pure chocolate, Halloween chocolate. Hundreds of pieces of chocolate that made their evil ways into our house last night and the leftover that I didn't give away that's still sitting in a cute basket on the couch.

You know that Halloween smell. Stick your nose into your kids' Halloween bag and breathe. There's your childhood right there. Do you remember the excitement of looking through all your loot, dumping it on the floor, trading with your siblings, stashing it away, eating 1 or 5 or 10 pieces a day depending on your disposition?

Remember how your Mom would come into your room in March and find 80 little wrappers under your bed? Do you remember running home from school every day in November to eat some candy? Do you remember counting your candy before you left for school and then when you got home? And when you accused your Mom of stealing your Hershey's she said, "How dare you accuse me of stealing chocolate?" But then you found a bunch of little wrappers in her bedroom garbage can?

My Dad never had this problem. If he knew there was Halloween candy in the house he didn't give it a second thought. Men! He had a talent for carving some really swell pumpkins with wavy eyebrows and silly ears, but that was about his main contribution to the whole Halloween thing. Oh and he had this awesome Frankenstein mask that he pulled out to scare the neighborhood kids on Halloween. But the candy thing? No.

That's what I remember. And that's what I smelled coming down the stairs this morning. Memories. Memories of when I was a kid and the reality of motherhood today and that horrible temptation I have to steal, plunder and pilfer my kid's Halloween candy.

Oh it is real. I want to offer big bucks for them to toss it in the garbage. Because I know myself. I know how I will think about where they have "hidden" it. And that it will not be hidden at all. It will call out to me like a kid who can't find his shoes or homework or soccer ball. I know it will irritate me until it is out of this house.

So I think of all that chocolate sitting around, and how long it's going to take to actually be out of the house, and then I think of the glutinous Thanksgiving feast later this month. And December? December's like a a big ho ho fest of candy and treats and stuff you hate to eat and love to eat all at once. It's the month when you feel sick about what you just ate but are forced to think about the next thing you have to make for the event tomorrow. And you go off to the stores to buy more stuff to make food that you feel bad about eating.

Help! Someone beam me to a planet where food isn't necessary to live. Oh, and can that planet also let me shave my head? 'Cause having to have cute hair every day is REALLY getting to me. Oh, and if that planet must have food, can the men be in charge of it? The ones who remain fit and trim for years on end and have no idea what it's like to fix food day in and out for a family and for every stinkin' event in a lifetime?

I am feeling a little put upon about the food thing about how unfair it is. And I am worried about what the next two months could do to my body and brain. Plain and simple, I dread what could happen.

And so, this morning, after I tossed a couple of Hershey's kisses into my mouth because if I smell chocolate I also have to TASTE it, I realized something else about today!! It's fast Sunday, and I just blew it.

I can't win.

A Trip up North

A few weeks ago I got on a plane with my mom and sister and went to visit my brother in Seattle. It was a great family reunion. I had never seen Seattle in the fall. I had no idea the color was so spectacular. It was gorgeous even though it rained nearly the entire five days we were there. Here are a few highlights. Credit for photos goes to Judy (Mom) who not only remembered to bring a camera but took most of the pictures.



Here is my little brother Mark, standing in front of some amazing fall color. Apparently people in Seattle don't use umbrellas, they wear hats!



Mark, me and Lisa at Snoqualmie Falls.



Lisa, Mom and Mark at Snoqualmie Falls.




Something you don't see every day of the week!



Mouthwatering produce at the Pike Place Market in Seattle.



Don't stand too close or a flying fish my slap you in the face!



Mom has found some amazing color as well. It wasn't hard.



My new concoction for a dessert. Vanilla ice cream (the real stuff, not reduced fat) and gingersnap cookies smothered in caramel sauce!







Mom, Lisa and me at lunch at a fish and chips place near the Pike Place Market.

A Moment of Silence

Yesterday we observed a moment of silence in our home. We paused to observe a rarity that my children have never seen in their lifetimes, and may not see again. We reached a milestone that I never thought we'd reach.

We accomplished something that I had pushed so far on the back burner that it was not even near the burner anymore.

For a fleeting few minutes and for what seemed like a blink of an eye our entire home was clean AT ONCE! That means that all the rooms were dusted and vacuumed, the floors were mopped, the bathrooms clean, the laundry done and the beds made. OK, all the sheets on the bed were not clean, but only I knew that small fact. The surfaces were free of clutter, stuff was put away, there was a HUGE bag in the garage waiting to go to the DI.

This has not happened for 18 years, folks, since Adrienne made her way into the world in July 1991. Even then we had a 500 square foot apartment and we couldn't get it all clean at once. IT HAS BEEN 18 YEARS!

I wanted to do it just to see that it could be done. Never mind that I worked for hours on it Friday and Saturday, and put off other things I should have been doing. Never mind I didn't sit down all day Friday, and I was cleaning a bathroom at 10:45 on Friday night. Darren was a little disappointed that I ditched him for the bathroom, but hey, I had my goal, and I wasn't letting it slip through my fingers. He got over it. He likes clean, maybe even more than me.

When are you coming to bed, he asked me, while I was still feverishly scrubbing the tub. "Enough is enough," he said. "It's not that important."

"EXCUSE ME," I said sternly, "I AM THIS CLOSE TO A GOAL THAT I RELEGATED UNATTAINABLE IN MY LIFETIME. I WILL NOT BE DISTRACTED!" Hell hath no fury like a woman on her knees with Comet and rubber gloves. Rubber gloves means it's a serious operation.

The next day he vacuumed the stairs for me and did some other odd jobs to help me reach my goal. I thanked him by raking leaves and picking beans. But it blew so hard yesterday it doesn't even looked like we raked leaves at all.

"We have too many trees," I told him, when I saw the array of color on the lawn.

"You don't think that in the summer," he replied.

"I know, I love them then."

My house is not large. It is small compared to many McMansions in this valley. I have no idea how those people clean their homes. I would not want that job. I am just grateful I could clean my modest house, all of it at once, maybe just once.

I am not a goal-oriented person. But I was a maniac for those few days, for some odd reason.

Probably just once, I am thinking since, today while looking around, I am seeing a few out of place things.

Two loads of laundry that produced themselves while we were sleeping.

Some crushed leaves on the newly vacuumed carpet.

Bed sheets that won't be washed for a while yet.

Unmade beds.

Sunday newspapers all over the living room floor.

My shoes from last night in the middle of the floor. So even I can't keep it up let alone the rest of the family.

Autumn Musings

Happy Birthday to my Mom today! I won't say how old she is, except to say that it starts with a seven!

I love fall. I think it's the best time of the year. It's my birthday time and it's beautiful and sunny but cool outside and the colors make me feel warm and toasty and content. Out my front window there is a dust of snow on the tips of Mount Timpanogos, and then red bursts of color mixed with green dot the rest of the mountainside. Just like this picture to the left taken by some amazing photographer. It is a postcard-perfect scene, one that should be caught in the act of violating the beauty code.

There is the thinnest slice of time before the color's all blown away and the trees and bare and the reality of winter barges in like an alarm clock after a bad night of sleep. The feeling is that it's over too soon, just like that night's sleep, and isn't there anything at all we can do to hold on to the best of seasons or turn the clock back another hour?

That's how I feel every year at this time. I try to enjoy it while I can and hope that winter doesn't blow away my positive energy like the leaves.

Nathan is through with the fall soccer season. I feel kind of wistful about it. I love to watch him play soccer and have since he was five years old. When he does some amazing footwork that would put me into traction and then scores a goal, I feel like shouting to the crowd, "Hey! I birthed that kid! He actually came out of MY body!" But I refrain. But I'm proud as a peacock that that kid is my own flesh and blood. Amazed really.

What a FANTASTIC soccer season they've had. The Raptors finished fifth in their AA division. The boys are all so nice and such good sports and their parents are all so nice and such good sports (no easy feat), and our coaches, Ryan and Doug, are classy, kind, mellow and not obnoxious. We are blessed to be playing with the Raptors for the third year in a row. Best of all is what great friends the boys are. Friendship among players is one of the main benefits of being on a team like the Raptors. It's right up there with other things like learning sportsmanship, improving skills and getting into shape.

I love working with the resource kids for two hours a day. I don't have time to get burned out, and I have time to do other things, although I still can't seem to manage to get everything done that I want to. I think this will be my problem for life, and in talking to other women, it seems that it will be their problem for life as well. One of the great mysteries of life is how to get it all done before you're too old to get it done. I ponder this as the calendar moves stridently toward my forty somethingish birthday.

Any ideas on how to get everything done that you want to without losing sanity and sleep? A woman who I was talking to a couple of weeks ago said, "Just don't." OK then. Maybe she has a point.

So, the kids I work with at school are so entertaining, to say the least. When a math problem asks them to describe which method they used to solve the problem, they write pencil and paper, instead of multiplication, division, etc. Amen. They are exactly right. It cracks me up.

Watching general conference in my pajamas last Sunday and eating aebelskivers(Danish pancakes) with the family was another fall highlight. How cool not to shower until 4 pm, and even then just to put on sweats and no makeup. I was happy as a lark.

Other happy news is that there are no more peaches or pears on my trees anymore to yell at me to do something with them. I am not hearing, "Hey you! Lady! Pick me! Crush me! Make jam with me! Freeze me!" when I walk by. I am like Barry Manilow singing, "Looks like we made it, through another bumper crop. . ."

My counter tops are no longer covered with fruit that is ripening and losing their vitamins by the minute. Oh, but I do think the most divine thing in the world is homemade pear jam with powdered sugar on aebelskivers. And so I am grateful I listened to the pears and did something with them, even though it would have been easier to let them just look pretty on the tree.

And I think all the tomatoes have frozen! Oh, poor tomatoes! So sorry I didn't do anything more with you when I had the chance. Ahem.

I am going to Seattle next week with my mom and sister to see my brother and sister in law. No kids, just us. I can't wait. I love Seattle, even though it will be cool and rainy. Seattle is just a great city. Darren is taking the kids camping down south, so he will be happy as well.

For all these reasons, I love fall.

Duh!

I am struggling to learn a whole new language. I'm not learning to speak it, but just to understand it. I'm not listening to CDs and I'm not attending a class, and my training is happening within my own four walls. If you're not jealous, you definitely should stay that way.

This is way worse than college French, or Spanish when we lived in South America. You see, South Americans smile and engage you when you try to speak to them in their language. They are encouraging and helpful. And my French professor, ooo laa laa, was tres tres magnifique!

I'm learning Teenager, a language of short, curt, surly phrases that I can't quite hear, much less decipher. In this language I have two seconds to understand and then respond to what is being said before the speaker is gone, vamoosed into the land of written communication that doesn't require annunciation, eye contact or even waiting for a response.

I am beginning to sound much older than I am, like a granny whose hearing aids are not adjusted right. I am routinely saying, "What?" or "Say that again" or "AH dint undastan a woood you jus sed," like that chicken farmer on Napolean Dynamite. I feel old and clueless, like I am a sagging remnant of anything worthwhile or cool.

Just when I feel that my self esteem couldn't plunge any farther into the toilet, I realize that Darren can't understand anything our teenager is saying either. And that he is also saying things like "Come again?" "WHAT?" and "I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!" And this is a guy whose youthfulness, energy and language skills are legend. This makes me feel slightly less pathetic but not much.

When we press for more detailed answers from our teenager, such as "I am going to go to Heather's house, and I will be home at 10 pm" AND demand that she look us in the eye, she acts as though we've asked her to give up her cell phone for life. When we ask her to repeat herself, you know, come again?, she looks at us as if we are one step away from the nursing home down the street.

The language of Teenager has only one and two-syllable words. Most of them are "yeah" "no" "later" "OK!" or "duh!" One would think that would make it more understandable, but it doesn't. It requires saying "what?" more than any other language, routinely feeling stupid and throwing oneself on the couch and swearing under one's breath when the teenager has left the room.

Once in a while my teenager's eyes will look up at me. Yes, look AT me. I remember how pretty her eyes are. She'll smile and her teeth are white and perfect and straight and I'll remember how much her braces cost and how that smile really lights up her face.

I notice her hair, how it's this beautiful spun gold color that people would pay big bucks for. She's got this lower body hip stuff going on that I never had and don't know where it came from. She's just beautiful. And I want to freeze the image and pretend that when she opens her mouth something fluent and interesting and pleasant will come out.

And that I will be able to understand it and not look like a washed-up has been, cowering into the couch with my Metamucil and crossword puzzle.

She says something in Teenager and I say, "What?" She glares at me.

"Are you going deaf?" she asks.

"Undoubtedly," I respond. "But only when you're speaking."

"What?" she asks.

"Are YOU going deaf?" I ask.

"Whatever," she says and vanishes to find someone who can communicate on her level.

Oh, my gosh, that was three syllables!!! I take a celebratory swig of Metamucil, adjust my reading glasses and start to work on 2 down. A eight letter word for improvement.

Progress! No duh! Maybe things are looking up.

My Little Red Piece of a Not Minivan

Cars are a pain, and did I mention that cars are a pain? If not, I'll just go ahead and set the record straight on what I think about cars. They are a pain! They are just something you have to fork over tons of money for and they break and they cost money to fix and they need gas and an oil change, and new brakes and cleaning.

Three years ago our minivan needed a new transmission and we forked over the bucks for one. Now the transmission is acting up again. Jerry, the transmission mechanic, says he's gonna have to "rip apart the tranny" to figure out what's wrong. We told him, no, the minivan is going to sit in the driveway to think about its bad behavior until we figure out what to do with it. A transmission is supposed to last more than three years, we told Jerry. He agrees. That's why he'll throw in the free labor and just charge for parts. Wow, what a deal! Thanks Jerry.

In the meantime I finally have, however, a car that is not a pain. It is bright red and it is a Toyota and it is fun and sporty and cool and everything my minivan has NOT been for the past 10 and a half years. I drove it out of the lot on Friday night at 11:16 pm with a grin on my face as wide as the Mississippi but in debt up to my eyeballs. Oh well.

It has a CD player. It has automatic windows. It has a remote that opens the doors! It has 8 cup holders! These are new innovations I thought I'd never see in my lifetime!

Don't get me wrong. Minivans serve their purposes. Like when I had four young kids and carpools and lessons and shagging kids all over the planet, yes, I needed that minivan, and it was good to me. I was grateful for it. It went with us a lot of places. Across the country and back, to Disneyland and back a couple of times, up north to the cabin multiple times. Camping all over Southern Utah.

I drove it to the rec center so many times for swim practice, that it can get there by itself. The daughter we drove to swim practice 756,987 times is now away at college. And I've decided I will never again be in another carpool as long as I live. My kids have fewer activities now. So I just don't need that big of a car anymore. And I don't WANT a car that big anymore, but I still can't help reminiscing about the good times in the minivan.

The minivan has had a thousand wet towels on its seats over the years. It's had at least infinity crumbs from various foods ground into its carpets and seats. It's had all manner of baby fluids on the seats. It's had multiple car seats strapped into its seats. It's heard hundreds of arguments, been hit a couple of times, had the garage door shut on it, and been left running with the keys inside and the doors locked.

You could say it's been around the block a few times.

It's been through the car wash dozens of times, and it should have been there more. It's sat on its side on a snowbank in Wyoming. It's been vacuumed to death. It's been fixed to death, serviced to death and gassed up to death. Yet it's not dead. It's still hanging on, all 160,000 miles of it. Poor old girl. It's almost like I should take her out and shoot her, to put her out of her misery. I just don't have the heart to do it. There still seems to be a some life left in her.

So she's going to sit.

Since I got my new car three days ago, I have to keep pinching myself. When I wake up in the morning I say, "Oh yeah, there's a cool car in the driveway that I can drive today, and I bet it won't break down because almost new cars don't do that." That is a most pleasant way to start the day.

I feel spoiled rotten. But I also will feel safe this winter and when I get stuck in the snow I will be able to get myself out. And I will not have to worry what's going to break next, or how to juggle things so we can leave the car to be fixed.

I'm the first to admit that I need that peace of mind. I have better things to do than wonder what's going to break next.

VROOM!

Nothing to Fear but the Parents

I don't like to write about politics often because it puts me in a very uncomfortable minority most of the time. But since Obama is trying to indoctrinate our children with his political socialist/communist/fascist agenda, I say so what if I spout off a bit. If the president can then I can.

Life in America has reached a low point. There is fear in the air. Some parents across the US are pulling children out of school on Tuesday because President Obama is giving a live speech on the importance of education. There is fear among conservatives that he will attempt to politically indoctrinate our children with his evil values. That evil man! That in the guise of a speech on education IN THE SCHOOLS that subversive messages will weave their way into the minds and hearts of our children. Messages that will mimic those of socialist leaders.

That while America's school children, educators and parents are listening, he will somehow emit waves of leftist propaganda that will lodge itself in their permanent psyches. That they will be forever tainted by the words he speaks. That after they listen to a speech on the value of education, school children will somehow desert the values with which they've been raised and enlist to be part of the Obamacommunist regime.

Maybe America's school children will start campaigning for universal health care after the speech, or turn green and demand tighter environmental standards or lobby for gun control. And while they're at it, they might as well let the hardened criminals out of prison and open up our borders so we can all have a great big melting pot party in Texas! Yee hah!

It is amazing what President Obama will be able to accomplish in the short 10 minutes he is planning to speak about education. Not only is he evil, he is talented!

PaaaaaaaLeeeeeeese. How is it remotely possible for any of this to happen? Get a grip people. You can read the speech beforehand. You can discuss it with your children. You can pick it apart word for word and decode his hidden agenda.

Let's talk about Obama's values. This is what I have been hearing him say for months:

He wants universal health care. He wants everyone to be insured and be able to take care of themselves and their families. Why does this liken him to Fidel Castro? Health care in this country is a disaster. And it needs fixing. This is not propaganda, this is truth. That this is such a partisan fight saddens me.

He wants a clean environment. So do I. I want to drink clean water and breathe clean air. We know what happens to people when these basic rights are not met. We can protect businesses and the economy and promote a cleaner planet. Other countries have done it, and so can the US.

He wants students to get a good education like he did. He wants schools to do better at providing a top-notch education. George Bush put all kinds of government controls on states' curriculum in his No Child Left Behind program, and people did not react with the same vitriolic hatred that they're spewing at Obama.

If George Bush would have ever given a speech on education for American students, I'm sure he would have said many of the same things Obama will say on Tuesday. His father George HW Bush gave a similar speech in 1991. Study hard. Get good grades. Set goals. Go to college. Find something you love doing. Be a good, productive citizen. These are basic American values. This is NOT a partisan issue. This is not socialist rhetoric.

Parents who pull their kids out of school on Tuesday for fear of political indoctrination are teaching their children a lesson that will negatively influence them far more than anything Obama says in his speech.

First they'll learn that if they fear something may not be to their liking or correspond precisely to their comfort level, then they don't have to listen to it. That they don't even have to try.

Second, they'll learn that it isn't important to listen to others if we don't like them or agree with them. That you shouldn't give a person a chance. That you don't have to respect A DEMOCRATICALLY ELECTED president at all.

Great values to teach your kids, all you parents who are so into VALUES! Think about it.

Does everyone who your child associates with daily meet your high ideal? Maybe there are lots of people who should not be part of your child's life. You just never know where evil may be lurking!

They say parents are a child's most important teachers. It's too bad that in this case fear and misinformation are clouding their better judgment, leaving them with very low marks.