When You Wish Upon a Star...

You might think by looking that we don't really like Halloween. We are that house on the block that turns all its lights out so you will not approach. Except rather than hiding inside and cursing all the loud children begging for candy, we're actually out with our kids trick-or-treating, so I think we have a valid excuse. 

Anyway, since I can only remember one year that we've ever been home long enough to hand out any candy, I stopped buying it, which means all I have to gorge myself on is the boys' loot. Except they counted it, which means I have to gain approval before taking any fun-size Snickers bars. Sneaking would throw their counts off, no doubt setting off a downward spiral that they will be telling their therapists about for years to come. 

I guess this is all to say that I haven't really been eating any candy, which is just as well since I've started my mental quest to lose 10 pounds. I feel confident that the physical quest will begin any day now...as soon as I overcome my disdain for exercise and my love for carbs...and butter...and sugar. Yep, any day now.

In other news, we're going to Disney World!!!!!!!!!!! We've actually known for a little while now, but we just told the boys, so we can finally go public. My beloved and crazy aunt Linda (we all have a crazy aunt, right?) has an obsession with Disney World and therefore visits The Happiest Place on Earth on an annual basis. (For the record, this means I can officially call my Las Vegas obsession genetic.) This year, she wants the boys to experience the magic. Score.

And so, the 12-week countdown has begun. Aidan and I made a list of all the Disney movies we need to watch in preparation for this trip. The boys are already well-versed in all the Pixar flicks, as well as The Little Mermaid and Dumbo (trauma!), but they've never seen Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland, Aladdin or even The Lion King, so we've got some studying to do. You know, because I want them to have a deeper appreciation for the variously-themed mechanisms with which Disney will fly them through the air. 

Fun and planning. Fun and planning. I wouldn't want it any other way.

I got on the soapbox, but then I found myself speechless

Wednesdays are supposed to be my work days. My mom picks the boys up from school so I can be a writing machine. Sadly, I haven't had many writing gigs lately thanks to this economy and corporations' knee-jerk attempts at expense reduction. 

But today I actually have some work to do. So I was researching these communication articles I'm writing and happened upon this corporate communications blog with an entry called, "If you can't write...don't." 

My first thought was, "Wow, this guy writes a blog on corporate communications for fun?!" But, you know to each his own or whatever. My next thought was, "Amen!" (I don't know where all these religious references are coming from lately, sorry.) 

You see, my livelihood is essentially built on the idea that writing is a skill. So, if no one at your company knows how to write, then you better hire a writer. The problem is that a lot of people seem to think that writing is something anyone can do, so hiring a writer is often seen as a superfluous expense. I mean, can't the CEO's administrative assistant just write his speech for him? (No offense to admins, I just don't think writing is part of your job description). 

Here's the thing: Forming a sentence is not the same as writing. I think it's great that companies are requiring their employees to be able to form a sentence (standards!), but there's a little more to writing than stringing words together. At least, I hope there is. Otherwise, I've been way overthinking these speeches I've been working on. 

The moral of this story? Good writing makes a difference. Writers are important. Hire one today! 

(Preferably me, as I'm trying to avoid going back to a 9-5 job until my boys are in school full-time.) 

Hallelujah

The heavens have opened up. I can hear the choir of angels and they are singing, “A job! He got a job!”

Yes, my friends, the teenager will soon be slinging sandwiches with the best of them. There is hope in the world.

Is it that our constant nagging finally paid off? Did he suddenly see the value in earning his own money? No, I broke down and told him we’d give him our 11-year-old second car if he would please, please just get a job. The truth is, we planned to give it to him eventually anyway, but rather than being a gift, it turned into more of a bribe.

Given our economic woes, it might seem pretty stupid to be giving away cars, so let me put it to you this way: If someone showed up at my door and asked me, “How much would you pay to have your teenager be independently mobile?” I have a feeling that the price I would name would be much higher than what our beat-up Honda is worth.

My husband and I have differing opinions on this car issue. He had to buy his first car. I didn’t. My dad had a penchant for automobiles, so he always had a spare to let me drive. I actually think I took better care of his cars than I would have my own because, due to some psychological mishap, I feared disappointing him by doing anything as egregious as not changing the oil every 3,000 miles.

Side note: When I was 17, I accidentally backed into an old woman’s Bonneville in a parking lot and ended up secretly paying for the more than $500 in damages myself to avoid having it reported to my dad’s insurance company. Yes, apparently I believed that my alcoholic, mostly-absent father did not make mistakes.

My husband and I do agree that the teenager has done nothing to deserve a car. Quite the opposite, really. My argument, however, is that we deserve for him to have a car. (And given the amount of time my husband spends out of town, I really mean ME – I deserve for him to have a car.) If it has the side effect of forcing him to find out what it’s like to earn his own money and pay for his own gas, insurance and car repairs, well, then I guess we can add “learning experience” under the pro’s column as well.

Irrational rationalizations? Probably. But raising a teenager is not all rational. Sometimes it’s just about preserving your own sanity.

Shut Up and Eat

I am aware that motherhood is a thankless job, so please don't think I'm being naive here, but on those nights when I actually bother to cook something other than a tomato-based pasta and/or meat dish...the nights when I cook something that I actually look forward to eating...is it too much to ask that my children (teenager included) just shut up and eat it? 

I guess I don't really care if you don't like butternut squash or cranberries or pineapple or whatever other key ingredient makes this particular dish different than what we usually eat...it's fine if you secretly discuss how much you hated this dinner when I'm not around...or if you pretend that it's Hamburger Helper...but please, just stick your fork in it and put it in your mouth...before I lose it.

I would take the silent chewing as thanks enough.

Come on Down!

Our worlds were rocked yesterday when we (finally) acquired The Price is Right game for Wii. That's right, we now have Plinko, Punch-A-Bunch and an assortment of other pricing games right at our fingertips.

I am a huge TPIR fan, although I can't honestly tell you how it happened...it definitely didn't come from my mother, so my best guess is that my childhood "daycare provider," Mrs. Allen, used to watch it. All she really did was watch TV and let us steal slices of Velveeta cheese out of her refrigerator. Somehow, among all the crap that woman watched (I remember a lot of Love Connection), Bob Barker struck a chord.

My boys, on the other hand, have never seen the show (Amazing, I know, but they don't show it on GSN and the kids are at school when it's on CBS), so I wasn't sure whether they'd like the game. Turns out the love for TPIR is genetic. 

Despite having no clue what things like oriental rugs or bedroom sets or even jars of jelly cost, the boys loved the game from the very first bid.  (And consequently, they can now tell you what a set of snowboards or a 2009 Toyota Corolla cost.) Their joy at having the winning bid on Contestants Row or spinning $1.00 in the Showcase Showdown rivals my joy at winning actual money on TPIR slots in Vegas. I'm pretty sure our neighbors can hear the squeals of joy emanating from our living room. 

Today, Owen came within $180 of guessing the actual retail price of his showcase (he had a little help from the audience), which of course means he was the first in our family to win BOTH showcases. I thought he might pass out. 

A proud moment for us all. 

Thanks for the Memories

My husband has a friend who is a photographer. She does fabulous work. 

We had her out a week or so ago to do a family photo shoot with the fall colors. I had two motives: 1) To get a photo for our Xmas cards...something better than the usual "here's us in front of our Christmas tree using the self-timer function on our camera" photo.  2) To ensure that we had one last nice portrait of the entire family before the teenager becomes an adult and either flees or is disowned...you know, whichever comes first. 

I'm kind of a freak about photos. I used to carry my camera everywhere -- even before I had kids. I like to document. I guess I figure that when I'm old and can't remember anything, I'll want to have nice photos to remind me of the good ol' days. (Believe me, with all boys, I have no illusions that they'll be wistfully paging through the photo albums with me.) 

I admit that sometimes I get so wrapped up in getting good photos that I sort of lose track of what's actually happening...as if having a good-looking photo cancels out the fact that things were crumbling around us just out of frame. (They're not, I'm just saying...) My family -- even the teenager -- understands that when I tell them it's time for a picture, it's much easier to simply comply. 

Anyway, back to the family portraits. We had a nice photo shoot on an exceptionally warm October day. We got the proofs today and they are beautiful...except that apparently I was so busy trying to primp and straighten the rest of my family that I failed to look at the camera in most cases. Actually, in many cases my eyes are closed...like I just decided to nap while my obedient family smiled on. I guess I need some of my own training. 

The new staple in our diet

I was cursing Ann Hodgman last month for her falsely-advertised "Best Macaroni 'n' Cheese" -- the one my kids wouldn't even eat -- but I decided to give her another chance when I saw her recipe for Sweet Potato Biscuits in this month's Wondertime magazine. I'm a sucker for all things sweet potato.

First of all, let's take a moment to celebrate the fact that I made biscuits from scratch. It wasn't hard, but doesn't it sound hard? It sounded hard to me. But it wasn't! And I think the whole affair only took about 45 minutes (including baking). 

Okay, now we can celebrate the most important part: They were really good. So good that Owen, our little skeptic, the one who has to psych himself up to take a bite of anything new, ate FIVE of them. No, he didn't like the chili I served with them, but he couldn't get enough of the biscuits. As all of you out there with picky eaters know, this is quite a find. And sweet potatoes are good for you!

Highly recommended. This recipe gets 6 thumbs up over here.