Feet are yucky.

Today I told Don that I think I could be a better Mom to Evan if I could just change my attitude about some of his weirder behaviors. Despite our discussion about how I might better respond to some of his less appropriate moments, I was still unprepared for tonight's Monopoly game. The boy put the dice inside his sock with his foot. He did not understand why I would not let him hand me the dice after he removed them from "storage". Both his sisters and I tried to explain that feet are gross. People do not want to be touched with feet or touch things that have been in contact with feet. For the life of me, I could not come up with any valid reason why not--- probably because I was busy being overwhelmed by the yuck factor.
I made the boy go to wash the dice. He came back from running water in the sink to hand me the still unwashed dice. I informed him that the dice needed to go under the water and that soap should be vigorously applied before rinsing and towel drying after the foot contact. I scrubbed my hands and the offending dice while continuing with my mental "Ew. Ew. Ew. Ewwwww." chorus.
I reminded him that last weekend I held his head over the sink to apply soap to his hair because he refused to use soap in the shower. (He is definitely too old for me to be bathing him, and Don has already tried repeatedly to teach Evan how to wash his hair. That leaves two options: I wash it over the sink, or it stays dirty forever.) I explained that the same concept of using soap to clean his hair would also apply to anything that had touched feet. We'll see if the soap instruction takes this time.

Insular

Yesterday I saw just how insular our small world really is in a nutshell. I spent some time chatting with a mommy of three from our church home group during a social. (Everyone else was outside making s'mores around a bonfire which had failed to hold the interest of her precious pair of toddlers.) We previously bumped into each other at a school function, and I even saw her driving down our street one day. Somehow, it did not click that she must live close to us. Don & I closed on our home ten years ago. (Congratulations to Cindy & Oren as they hopefully go to closing today on their first house!!! Yay!) Apparently Heidi & Morris have lived about 1/2 a mile up the street from us for seven years.
Don and I were both a bit struck by how we live in our tidy little suburbs totally unaware of one another. It wasn't just Heidi & Morris (with whom we have shared many discussions, prayer requests, and socials) yesterday. We talked with a pastor between services yesterday who actually lives right around the corner. We can see each other's back yards across the creek. (The pastor and his wife have lived in the home on the creek for 18 years.) Don was amused that the pastor probably signed the paperwork to have his home built in what is now our garage as it housed the builder's office eighteen years ago.

Ms. Manners Nonplussed

Evan has a friend visiting, and said friend has an autism diagnosis which includes the inherent lack of social skills. The young man in question walks through our front door, looks around our home, and states, "I see you have IKEA dormitory furniture. You are low on money. That explains why you don't have much house." *choke* Immediate internal response (which is thankfully not voiced), "Excuse me?! You don't get invited over a second time often do you?" My inner warning bell tolls "AU child. He has no idea the offense given." I choose to herd the dogs to our bedroom to pen them up so they do not bother our young guest. I also gain a moment to pull my jaw off the floor and regain what normally passes for composure. Don finds my discombobulation concerning until it is explained. Then it is merely funny to him.
The boys want to play video games. Evan only has one controller because he has left his at a friend's house that the boys have in common. There is discussion on using the other friend's controller when he is not present. Apparently there is some gamer etiquette of which I am unaware. The boys eventually settle the issue by using the other kids' controller with a pair of our batteries. Maybe the etiquette has to do with the batteries rather the controller? I don't plan to delve too deeply into this one. I am still smarting a teeny bit from my prior encounter with this kid's manners.
In another hour I can send this little darling home. An hour is an awfully long time. Miss Manners failed to write a section on this particular sort of situation, but I am going to assume it is covered under not pointing out our guest's lapse to him. Unfortunately, as a parent, I will be pointing out said lapse to Evan to discourage him from making a similar observation at a later date in a similar situation. That will also require telling him not to correct the friend regarding today's little comment. The social skills do not come naturally to these lovies, but once taught can be assumed with a legalistic rigidity that becomes an issue in itself.

Fix

We went over to see what Don refers to as my "dealer". She is actually an adorable lady who happens to be selling off her Christmas Tree china via Craig's List. Well, okay, in my case that probably does qualify her as my pusher. My chasing around after the Christmas china is something of a sickness, but it is one with which I am content.
Armed with birthday money, we purchased the majority of her remaining place settings with an eye toward completing sets for two of my three duckies to one day set a beautiful Christmas table with the china I have been hording. (Katie actually had a moment of "oohing" and "ahhing" over two little dishes last night. I was about her age when I first became aware of this pattern. Maybe she will grow to fully appreciate and enjoy the collection I am trying to build.) The lady sent us home with her china keepers last night, and I spent the time immediately after we returned home carefully separating the 17 place settings that went into the keepers for storage until next year.
The beauty of my china obsession being catapulted into overdrive with the sourcing of Spode production to China and Malaysia is that I have been well occupied with things other than the state of our medical coverage for my IVIG. Now that what I considered to be a crisis has passed with the current and anticipated additions to the china set, I return my concerns to figuring out how our medical plan can best cover the $5000 worth of immunoglobulin I will need to receive in another two weeks. The china was way more fun to fixate on than the insurance questions.

Involved

Erin is begging for gymnastics or cheer lessons. She has recently developed a system of travel by cartwheel. (See photos. Sorry they are of her back, but I have concerns with posting kid pics on-line.) I remember the sheer fun of flipping upside down as a kid, and I am not lacking in sympathy. I do prefer that she not incur or inflict any injuries or break any objects. She does cartwheels in stores, in the living room, in the yard, on the side walk, on the grass...
Don and I have heard that parents should try to take an interest in the activities that excite their kids rather than trying to draw the children into the adult's preferred activities. We are not solely subscribing to this theory, but we are applying it. That means we play Risk with Evan who loves all sorts of games. I do cartwheels with Erin and spot both girls with back bends. Don taught Katie how to play her scales on the guitar. I "sing" and "dance" around to Disney soundtracks with my girls until the music becomes so ingrained that I hum the tunes when the girls are not even home. Don and I watch the movies they love, read books by their favorite authors, listen to Radio Disney, and generally try to stay involved with them. I'll let you know how this plan works out in about 10-20 years.

Vanity

The girls were making fun of Evan last night for quintessential middle school male behavior after they found me in the bathroom leaning against the vanity to closely examine signs of age in the mirror. Apparently he has taken to leaning toward the bathroom mirror (in a similar manner to my own) stroking his upper lip to be sure the moustache he is growing remains while exclaiming over its continued existence. (I have not seen this so-called moustache. There is nothing hairy resting between the boy's upper lip and nose that is visible to the naked eye.) He would be wise to close the door to engage in this sort of behavior since he has a trio of big-mouthed females in his immediate family to report on just this sort of potentially embarrassing activity.
I find it doubly amusing that the same trio of females have certain similar tendencies. We all spend a measure of time examining side views in the mirror for signs of outward or upward expansion. One admits to frequent self-checks for "weird things". (Yes, that is a direct quote.) The third admits to frequently checking for signs of southern migration, grey hair, wrinkles, zits, moles, and any sign of unwanted facial hair. (I wonder how many of those qualify as "weird things"?)

Here and Gone

We returned home from church to find Grandad waiting for us yesterday. Dad's visit included hunting chow-chow at local grocery stores (The regional item is unavailable in their neck of the woods.), dinner out at Jason's deli, and a so-called "short game" of Monopoly in which he trounced both his daughter and grandchildren thoroughly. Grandad brought Valentine cookies for the kids (and me!!!) last night since he won't be here Valentine's Day--- and because he figured the kids' teachers would appreciate the lack of a donut induced sugar high as the kids returned to school today. Dad rolled out early to head for an afternoon appointment in his adopted home state, and all three kiddies were in school by 8:10.
It's back to just Don, the assorted fur balls, and me around here. The house is wonderfully quiet except for the somewhat white noise of clothing tumbling in the dryer. The business of reclaiming the house from the holidays and kid-generated messes really began last week when the Christmas tree came down. I continue methodically tackling the chores I have ignored since mid-December like dusting the blinds and ceiling fans. I expect to have the house back in a reasonable semblance of order about the time the kids have a four-day weekend later this month.

Submit, submit, submit...

Grrr. The boy had quite an evening followed by quite a night. He was really mad at us because, in his words, we "always assume the worst" [about him]. I'm of the opinion that evidence which paints a clear picture does not add up to an assumption so much as a conclusion. Don & I would be not so much "assuming" as not being stupid in the scenarios which led to the boy reaching level one (no contact with friends) followed by several "resets" (a level lasts for 24 hours without incidence of disrespect) until he attained level two (no electronics--- a fate worse than death in his mind). The lying, even in the face of overwhelming evidence of his misdeeds, makes me crazy.
It was great to see so many friends who we have missed over the last couple of weeks at church this morning. This was one of those days when the message hits just right--- it was on worship---and the Lord speaks very clearly. I need periodic reminders of the tie between sacrifice and worship. I need the reminder that worship is found in the state of my heart during the most mundane activities. In every aspect of of life, from dealing with the attitude of our son to attending church service or running the endless loads of dishes and laundry, I have one opportunity after another to worship God by putting others first, honoring Him in my attitude and actions, and by recognizing the obvious gifts He has granted and the often less-obvious ones by which He will grow and teach me. Sometimes I do better than others. The times when I do not do well will hopefully continue to diminish over time as I continue to learn to submit. Doesn't it always seem to come back to submission?!
Here's to a gentle and quiet spirit.

Flow

I checked out the pictures of my cousin's dog's litter of cute little puppies while Bella was off being 'altered'. We received word of the safe delivery of a friend's baby (from another friend who is herself expecting) as we were running to pick up our kitty. Last night, we attended a wedding. Our hearts were both glad and heavy for the families as they celebrated with joy despite the intense loss of the bride's father unexpectedly days before the wedding. Today we continue our hunt for the girls' dresses to wear to the annual father/daughter Valentine dance. Tomorrow we welcome my Dad into our home for an overnight visit. Funny how things seem to flow sometimes.

*Photo of me after the wedding with post-op Bella.

Laundry, continued

Fair warning: If you have not read "Laundry" from earlier today you are not prepared to fully appreciating the following...
Katie began to feel concerned when her friend had not called over an hour and a half after the arranged time to confirm the sleepover time for this evening. She was allowed to phone in order to check in with Madison. I spoke with Madison's mom who apologized for M.'s not calling by explaining that her daughter was not allowed to phone Katie until after she... ahem... got around to putting away her laundry. I laughed and explained that Katie was still at least one more load from being allowed to leave the house. We shared one of those knowing Mom laughs that kids generally dislike.
Katie owes Evan one full load of his laundry done by her so she could get out the door to go to Madison's house for the night. It's a good deal for them both. She will do a super job on his laundry later, and he was already doing laundry so putting away her incidental belongings from the final load was not a big chore. She went to her friend's house at the appointed time, and he will skip out of a load of laundry in the future. The laundry is done. Mama's happy, so everybody's happy.
Or so one would think. Apparently Katie made an error in her rush to get out the door. She stripped off the pj pants she had been wearing all day around the house... and threw them in the floor of her bedroom. I found those at about 8:00 this evening. I phoned her friend's mother and explained that the jammies were on the floor and I would like to pick my daughter up so she could come home to put said jammies in the hamper. (Madison's Mom was amused.) I picked Katie up a few minutes later and drove her back home. I waited out front in the truck while she ran inside to put the offending jammies in the hamper. Jammies in the hamper, 20 minutes out of Katie's night with her friend, and I drove Katie back to Madison's for the night before heading home feeling rather pleased with myself.

*Note: Katie was not in the least upset with me. It made perfect sense to her that I would expect her to come home to pick up one pair of pj pants left on the floor. That's my girl.

Girls Rock

In the beginning there was... well, Janis Joplin is really all I can think of in the way of early women in rock besides groupies. (Ew.) In the early punk scene in California there arose a group made up solely of women who went on to pop success as a group and through a couple of solo adventures... and soon the whole original band will be here. The Go-Go's are coming! The Go-Go's are coming! The Go-Go's are coming! They'll be in Dallas at The House of Blues on February 2nd. Don is thinking we might try to catch the show for my "Happy Birthday".
I love the Go-Go's. (In case you couldn't tell.) My two eldest children were danced around apartment living rooms to the Go-Go's on cd regularly during their formative years. (Erin missed out on this important rite of childhood because she was mostly raised by Mrs. Sylvia. Sylvia creates child geniuses, I just make 'em into really bad dancers who sing loudly if not well.) My Aunt Nancy and I could act out the Go-Go's "Vacation" video when we were in elementary school. We really preferred to make up our own dances or have my mom show us old ones like the Monkey or the Jerk to put with our favorite songs like "Cool Jerk". My personal anthem is a Go-Go's tune: "Girl of 100 Lists".

Laundry

Here's to a relatively quiet day. (We're not doing anything more exciting than paying bills and catching up on housework, but I am a big fan of unexciting days.) Katie's headed out to spend the night at her friend Madison's house tonight, and Evan has his friend Joe coming over. We send one out, but another comes in so it's not like we will really be down by one child this evening. Well, Katie and Evan will be out and have a friend in if the laundry is done before 5:00 p.m.
The whole herd of lovies found themselves in hot water over the laundry earlier. I went on strike a couple of years ago, and the kids found themselves stuck doing their own laundry for a year-and-a-half as a result. Last Fall, I finally relented and began to do their washing again with a few provisos. The kids are expected to turn the clothes right side out, to place dirty clothes in the hamper unless wet, and clean clothes are to be put away within 24 hours. I don't feel that I am being unreasonable with my expectations. That does not mean those expectations are being met.
I deal with the insubordination of my offspring in several different ways. Clothing left inside out or layered will be deposited back in the offender's bedroom floor. (Such deposits are frequently accompanied by a snide comment if said offender is at home, especially if it is not the first laundry offense of the day. Needless to say, the kids rather hope for Mom to do the laundry when they are not at home.) If someone runs out of clean clothing or towels because dirty items did not make it into the hamper, that's not really Mom's problem is it? Clothing that is not put away within 24 hours of washing becomes property of Mom for one week. This created quite a back up since I had to store most of the kids' clothes in the master bedroom and closet the first couple of weeks before they took the policy seriously. They are now better about putting away, but I am also really good at reminding them to do so.
Occasionally we all get a bit lazy. This week the laundry piled up. Today I started to get caught up. After multiple laundry infractions had been committed and largely ignored or half-way dealt with by my children (who were busy watching t.v.), I pretty much just had a Mom Moment. I informed the whole herd of kiddies that they would get a load of laundry in or else. They put in a partial mismatched load. I yelled. Home and Away overnight privileges have been revoked unless all laundry is done by 5:00. That is doable, but it will require them to really stay on it.