Yeah...He's That Kid

It's the karmic circle of parenthood.

1. See others of this kind and mock them.

2. Believe that my own would never dress this way.

3. Realization and the holding of the tongue.

4. Acceptance.

5. See other people mock my son.

Cold Cereal and How My Family is Abusing It

We keep the cereal down on the bottom shelf of the closet pantry in the kitchen. We used to keep it in the two little half-cabinets above the stove until the boys were old enough to make their own bowls, and then I moved it down to where they could reach it. If they were going to eat 8 bowls a day, by golly, they could fix it themselves.


The shelf itself is pretty big, holding a 4 slice (2 that work) toaster, the canisters of regular and quick oats, a giant bag of add-water pancake mix, and a stack of plastic cereal bowls along with all the boxes of cereal.


That's right. ALL the boxes of cereal.

A dozen to be exact. All open. Some were duplicates.

When I investigated further, I found that seven of the boxes held maybe a quarter cup of cereal.




Not enough to be considered empty and thrown away, but not enough to fill a bowl either. And instead of pouring out the last few squares of Golden Grahams and then topping off the bowl from a new box, they (the kids) have been pushing the almost-but-not-quite-empty boxes to the back of the shelf and just bringing up another box from food storage.

Hence the 12 boxes of open cereal.

Do they not want to be accused of being the one who ate the last of something?

"Hey it's not all gone...saved those last 10 flakes for you!"

Do they believe the cereal "dust" is toxic?

Okay, I don't like the dust either, but now is not the time to be wasting food.

So I'm melting marshmallows and margarine and whipping up that classic after-school snack:
Rice Krispie/Cheerios/Golden Grahams/Frosted Mini Wheats/Crispix/Frosted Flakes/Cocoa Krispie/Cinnamon Life Treats.

A few extra marshmallows ought to hide all the dust.

Spring Haircut

Ollie got groomed today, and with tip and nail grinding (as opposed to just nail cutting - hey, nothing's too good for our pooch), it came to $50. Spiffy scarf and the expression of anal glands is included, and that right there makes it all worth it.

Aren't we brilliant to get a dog the EXACT same color as our carpet, so if he ever were to shed it wouldn't be very noticeable? But Schnauzers don't shed, which is one of the top reasons we got him.

That is one handsome dog, even if they did cut off a little too much of his beard.

Ollie's been having some adventures lately. He's become a part-time truck dog, traveling around with Troy in the semi. He likes sticking his head out the window, curling up on the bed for long naps, and watching the world from the front seat. Troy likes the company.

But we miss him when he's gone. We've thought about getting a second dog, one that Troy could take along all the time, but then those $50 grooming fees remind us that it's probably not the best time to own two dogs. Besides, Oliver would be sad that he wasn't the truck dog anymore.
And who would want to make this little guy sad?

Proof of Life

"Are you okay?" asked a concerned friend in an email over the weekend.

"Are you dead?" whispered Aaron's teacher from last year. She might have yelled it, but we were waiting for the temple dedication to start.

"Update your blog! I'm tired of looking at naked Cameron carving a pumpkin," demanded (nicely) another.

I guess a 4 month hiatus is long enough.

Honestly, I've been touched and even a little bit flattered that so many people care. And I'm sorry to have left you hanging back there after Halloween. I'm not really sure what happened. I think I just started feeling a little redundant.

I'd written about Thanksgiving and Christmas the year before and I didn't really have anything new to write. Life carried on. We had New Year's, Cam's 12th birthday, Valentine's, a new calling (Primary Secretary), and another shot in the foot. What more was there to say?

Not that I didn't feel guilty. Besides the occasional urging of family and friends, I knew that blogging was a record of my/our life and that it needed to continue. It was a good thing to journal our ups and downs, put up a picture or two, and connect with people.

But then a week turned into a month and that turned into two, three, and four months, and now I've got people wondering if we're even alive! Sorry about that.

We are alive. We are well. We are happy.

We are kicking back on a Sunday night.

Aaron on computer. And thank goodness for that. He's been practicing the recorder all weekend, and I am frankly all Hot Cross Bunned out. If you know what I mean.

Troy, fresh from a shower after 4 1/2 days on the road. He's relaxing with a game that has him battling Nazi Zombies. Not how I would relax, but he's pretty into it. See how he attempted a smile, yet he couldn't even take his eyes off the screen?

And here's Cam, organizing his dresser. That's just what he likes to do on a Sunday evening. Is the top of your dresser that neat? Mine isn't either. How about that haircut, folks? Scroll back down to see what it looked like in November.

Ollie, sitting in his favorite spot where he can look out the dirty window and let us know if anyone is passing by. Oliver is getting his hair cut tomorrow.

And here's my foot. Got an injection last week, and I'd like to say that it looks worse than it is, but that would be a lie. In an otherwise very blessed, busy and happy life, my foot continues to torment me. Not much has changed.

In other words, life is good.

It even felt good to blog again.

Halloween and Stuff

Pumpkin carving

(in the nude)

It's a family tradition

At least for Cam it is. I can't get that kid to wear clothes around the house for anything. Perhaps I need to turn down the thermostat?

Halloween was a little different this year: Cam officially declared his independence and went out with just his friends. I can't even tell you what they were...three guys in black robes, maybe?

Aaron (after practically fasting and praying over it) decided to go with Troy on the road. He was immensely happy, so I think he chose well. Cam generously agreed to share his loot.

But that left me, alone with Oliver, to do the whole door thing. And Oliver doesn't do well with the whole door thing. It bothers him terribly that others would dare cross our doorstep, let alone ring the doorbell. The barking can be ear piercing, but I couldn't put him away in a bedroom - he'd still hear it and that would make him anxious.

Oliver + anxiety = liquified bowels.

Yes, there is a story behind that equation. No, I won't share it. I'm still in therapy.

So it was a 2 valium night for my Ollie.

He slept soundly in his crate (in the front room with me), then he'd wake and try his best to bark whenever the doorbell sounded.

I ate candy, surfed the internet, answered the door, and occasionally called Cam to make sure he was okay. Aaron checked in every once in a while from Arizona, reporting that they were 15 miles from the border and hauling a 53 foot trailer of jalapenos. I joked that they better not crash with trucks hauling tomatoes and onions -- that would be SALSA!

Gone, gone, gone are my days of dressing my kids in adorable costumes and delighting with them in the magic of a holiday.

In reality, it's been gradual. I mean, we've lived out the same days, weeks and months that everyone else has, but it feels like I blinked and suddenly my boys are grown into pre-teen man creatures. And they don't need me so much. Certainly not to trick or treat with, or even to do the carving on the pumpkin.

Great job, by the way, my little naked carving boy

Yup, I've seen my future.

Me and my stoned dog.

Pass the candy.