Halloween, Part I

What better to bring me out of my blogging funk than my favorite holiday?  Halloween!

Let's review: I love making costumes. I love candy. I love cool, sunny days. I love pumpkins. I love making costumes. I force my kids to have coordinating costumes (at least two of them anyway).

E mocks me for spending time doing what Party City has already done. Yes, well. I prefer not buying poorly made scraps of polyester in favor of littering my house with poorly made scraps of fleece, felt, and hot glue. To each her own.

Well, I thought I'd go ahead and post my kids' costumes because they had an early party this year, which means that I had to get it together early this year, which means that if you're looking for an easy DIY costume, you can take these ideas and run with them. Because they are cheap, accessible, and easy.

Simon & Charlie wanted to be Mario and Luigi. Well, Charlie hasn't a clue who Luigi is. But he likes to do whatever Simon is doing, so it all works out well. These costumes were perfect and so easy.
1) Overalls. Overalls for a two-year-old are a cinch to find. For a six-year-old? Not so much. Beg on facebook until you find some.
2) Green shirt, red shirt. Plato's closet.
3) Mustashes: dollar store.
4) Hats. Found these on Amazon for a few of bucks each. (Plus, they're prime eligible).

5) Gloves. Amazon again.


6) White craft foam for the M & L circles.


Too much cuteness!

Simon wanted Ben to be Toad. 
Ben was thrilled.
He loves Halloween as much as I do.
In fact, every year he begs me to think of costume ideas for him. He especially loves it when my ideas include him wearing tights or being shirtless or wearing ridiculous things on his head.

So, when I made him this giant mushroom head, he could barely contain himself. I know your husband wants one too, so here you go: (adapted from here)

1) Buy 1/2 yard of white fleece. Fleece is stretchy, which works out perfectly here.
2) Double up the material and cut out a circle - so you end up with two large circles.
3) In one circle, cut another small circle in the middle so you have a doughnut. This is the head hole, but make it a a LOT smaller than the head you are fitting.
4) Put the two circles together and sew around the edge. Flip it inside out.
5) Tear apart a pillow and put the stuffing into your mushroom.
6) So that the stuffing doesn't fall out all over your husband's head (even though he is SO in the spirit of the holiday that he wouldn't even mind), take a piece of fabric (I used a cloth napkin) and lay it over the stuffing. You're too lazy to sew it, so just place it there and tell him to be careful.
7) Cut circles of red felt and hot glue them on.
8) Stick it on his head and tell him how much you love him.
9) Put pictures of him on facebook and then giggle with each comment that comes in.



Talya wanted to be My Little Pony. I have no idea why. But, since I liked My Little Pony when I was a little girl, she is more than allowed to like it today. After figuring out to dye and curl dollar store hair, I canned that idea. Too much work and kinda gross looking in the end.

I went with a ribbon headpiece which was cute.

She wouldn't let me take pictures, but if I can get some I'll post more about her costume because it was cute.

It seems like it's time for a new post...

So, what can I write about? We had Easter. I'm going to be honest. By the time I flopped into my seat at church and flipped through the bulletin, confirming that there was not a single Easter Hymn for me to mutilate at the top of my lungs, my disappointments with the morning had piled up.

Shall I catalog those for you? Hmmm, yes of course. That's why you're here, right?
I stayed up late surrounded by annoying and bad-for-the-environment (yet, completely necessary, duh) Easter grass and plastic eggs to put together the baskets. I promised myself that I'd get up before the kids to sneak the dyed eggs in so they could experience the "magic" of colorful eggs on a nest of plastic grass, surrounded by plastic toys, in a plastic basket. The problem is that I do NOT get up before my kids for any reason other than catching a plane to Hawaii. That philosophy makes me late for most things in life.

Charlie woke up at 6 crying, which he does from time to time, but always settles back in to sleep for another hour or two. This time was different - he was screaming "Mama! Dada!" and he sounded distressed. I gave the manipulatively moaned "Should I go check on him?" to Ben who responded appropriately with a, "No, I'll do it." I reflected on how thankful I am for that charming hunk and then realized with despair that if I wanted to get up before the kids, this was my opportunity. So, I did. Then I went back to bed, too exhausted from my journey to the kitchen to get up when the kids did so I missed the magic of them witnessing my Easter baskets.

In fact, by the time I officially gave them their baskets, this is what Talya looked like:

Here's me being honest: For me, the most important part of celebrating Easter is getting your whole family to look cute and then taking a great picture. Sounds simple, but that's a pretty high expectation with a pretty low chance of meeting it. We got the looking cute part down, but by the time we shuffled into church (*Oh wait, there are no blocks of ten seats available on Easter Sunday for a family who arrives 5 minutes late? You've got to be kidding me!*), I realized we had no family picture.

Ben, who is the hero of this post, was struck with an idea. When they announced it was time to dismiss the kids for children's church, he whispered grab your camera and we took a quick detour outside to get our picture while all the children of responsible parents traipsed off to learn about Jesus. We got a few pictures that aren't horrible, although Talya kept putting her hand up my dress.

Then we ran home to force the tired and hungry children to have fun hunting for eggs in the wet grass while I cooked lunch. There were major flaws in the plan that mostly related to expecting them to eat a nice dinner at the kids' table hopped up on sugar during nap time. We shuttled them to bed as soon as we could, but the sugar rush kept them up for most of the afternoon.

So, here's what I learned this Easter:

• It's important to go to the traditional service even though it's earlier if you want to sing Up from the Grave He arose, Christ the Lord is Risen Today, or any other Easter staple. (The music in our service was beautiful, but my preference is clear.)
• The early service is also important if you want the kids to eat lunch at lunch time, not when they should be asleep.
• The Easter Bunny is an evil spirit who lives in small pieces of candy and wakes your kids up from much-needed naps.
• Holidays are way too important to me.
• Cute outfits are way too important to me. Actually, look at these pictures - they are not too important to me - they are well worth the effort. I swear.
• Next year, I need to buy an extra bag of robin's eggs, because I'm already almost done with this one and I'm not sick of them yet.
• This cake is the best ever. I finished it and want to go make another one.

Well that was an honestly shallow post that I fear has you thinking I'm a shallow person with no spiritual depth. That's not true, but it would be a lie to say that my Easter holiday was spent in spiritual reflection, and not plastic, brisket, figuring out the math on a box of Hungry Jack potato flakes, getting to church on time, and then collapsing in a heap of exhaustion to watch the Last Cake Standing.

But a few days ago, before the hoopla, we did the Resurrection Eggs with the kids. (Cute - check them out if you want.) We opened the egg that held the nails in it and talked about what Jesus went through for us, and Simon said this: "Mom, did you know that the nails didn't hold Jesus on the cross? Love held Jesus on the cross."

I promise you that when a five-year-old says it, it's way more moving than reading it on a facebook status.

So, I'll end my long and shallow post with this from the Jesus Storybook Bible:

They nailed Jesus to the cross.

"Father, forgive them," Jesus gasped. "They don't understand what they're doing."

"You say you've come to rescue to rescue us!" people shouted. "But you can't even rescue yourself!"

But they were wrong. Jesus could have rescued himself. A legion of angels would have flown to his side - if he'd called.

"If you were really the Son of God, you could just climb down off that cross!" they said.

And of course they were right. Jesus could have just climbed down. Actually, he could have just said a word and made it all stop. Like when he healed that little girl. And stilled the storm. And fed 5,000 people.

But Jesus stayed.

You see, they didn't understand. It wasn't the nails that kept Jesus there. It was love.

Presents! Simon's Store

Sure, Christmas isn't about presents, but aren't they fun?

We had our little family Christmas this morning so that we don't have to truck our load of gifts when we celebrate with family, and it was really fun. Santa is still causing all kinds of confusion and emotional stress - is he real or not? If he's not, why did his reindeer eat the snacks we put outside for them? If he is... well, it all just sounds like a (magical) load of crap.

Regardless of what the kids think about Santa, we don't let Santa take credit for the good gifts. We let the kids think he fills the stockings - with socks, flashlights, toothbrushes, junk from the dollar store. They love it, but the good stuff comes from Mommy & Daddy.

I started planning the kids' Christmas gifts as soon as Halloween ended, but my sorta-Scroogy husband wasn't ready to help me with them until like yesterday. So, we stayed up until 1 am perfecting our creation. Wanna see?

Simon got a store. The second I saw this one, I knew I wanted to make him one, but am vastly unqualified. Then I saw this one and the wheels started turning. I means seriously, any time we can combine the Internet with Ikea, we are unstoppable!

Here's what we did. (Because I know you want one, and it's not that hard and your kid probably has a birthday coming up....) We bought four Ikea rast nightstands. They're pretty tiny. Then Ben just connected two together, added some 1x3s to make a frame for the awning and stapled fabric to the top. Obviously, Ikea's sophia fabric is perfect. I think we used about 2 1/2 yards. I didn't bother hemming it -  remember the joy of crafting for kids is that it doesn't need to be perfect, which is why it's the only crafting I do.

Next, Ben added some bars to the back of the shelves so that the wooden baskets would prop up. We filled them with fruit from the dollar store. I picked up some small wooden rectangles, painted them with chalkboard paint, and clipped them to the baskets. I used one as an open/closed sign, and we added a hook for his work apron and clipboard.

My favorite part is the scale. I took an old clock, mod-podged a scale face to it, leaving the glass off so that the kids could adjust the weight. Then I got a metal bowl from the thrift store, chain and hooks from Lowes, and a lightweight spring. Ben drilled some holes, snipped some chain, and  - we have a scale!

It's super adorable and the kids love it. Even though Simon keeps calling it a kitchen, Charlie likes to throw the fruit at people, and Talya thinks it's hers. But don't worry - she got a special present too... coming up soon!

My Problem with Thanksgiving

I love pie. I love family dinners that are so big your mom needs you to sit at the Ping-Pong table. I love stuffing and cranberries and sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top.

And, I'm thankful. For a zillion things, not the least of which are my family, friends, church, workplace, growth group, Target, and the experience of living and traveling overseas. Maybe next week I'll feel extra festive and make you a list.

But, I have a problem. If you read this last year, you got a hint of it, but seriously, people - can we talk about this?

Simon came home from school with a paper headdress. And I just don't get it. How that's okay. How we can celebrate a holiday by having our children dress up as a people group that were victims of having their land stolen, and eventual genocide?

The roots of this country are rife with injustice, and it gets increasingly difficult for me to gloss over holidays that don't take time to acknowledge that. I hate how angry this is sounding. I want it to sound light and be a little thought-provoking, but my true feelings keep leaking in to my words.

This summer, I read The Mayflower, and it kind of ruined the fourth of July for me. In a good way, I guess - an important way, if not a fun way. This year I was determined to not let Thanksgiving pass by without learning more about the beginnings of our country, especially around the first Thanksgiving. I forced Ben to watch this with me, and I'm sad.

I think I'm mostly sad we can celebrate without mourning. Thankfulness is good, but how can we be truly thankful for things which we are not willing to acknowledge the cost? The cost was not only in Pilgrim lives lost to hunger and the sea. The cost was that we built our country on a superiority complex, and that that would stick with us for generations, tainting relationships of all kinds.

The cost was that our most treasured values - freedom, liberty and justice for all - was founded on Freedom for Me, Liberty for Those Who Don't Threaten Me, and Justice for Some. The cost was that we fight for things that we feel like we earned, but that we didn't earn without guilt.

I am thankful, but I'm also sad. This week will be busy - full of travels and packing and really festive meals together with people I love the most. We will celebrate and we will enjoy the little things. But, my hope is that I'll take the time to keep learning about Native American history and the Trail of Tears. I hope that I'll let myself feel sad at what went wrong.

I'm not suggesting that a moment of silence before eating turkey is the answer or that it would fix anything. What bothers me is not that we celebrate thankfulness or that we're happy about our blessings, but how our cultural folklore has erased the things that taint our history. My fear is that as we glorify such folklore we subliminally teach our kids and assure ourselves that the noble beginnings (people fleeing religions persecution) or the happy ends (a free society) justify the means.

Ok, I'll stop. I'm sorry for being a downer. The Indian headdress made out of xerox paper pushed me over the edge.

Comments are open, so go ahead and tell me what you're thinking!

Halloween Aftermath - Costumes

Oh, Halloween, my favorite. Here are some highlights and lowlights, with some interspersed craftiness.

1) Simon is allergic to peanuts. That pretty much sucks, but I selfishly look forward to blessed day that comes around once a year when he gets handed 50 peanut-infested candy bars that I get to eat (for his own good). Seriously, there is no meaner mother out there. This year, when we got back from trick-or-treating, our bowl of candy was cleaned out, so Ben started picking out the peanut candy from the kids' bags to hand out. I was all, "Are you serious - that's my candy." Ben was all, "are YOU serious?!?"

2) I believe I've mentioned that I don't believe in store bought costumes. Not because I'm an especially talented crafter, but because - well, come on people, the kid is going to wear it for 2 hours a year, do you really want to pay for it? Now's the time when you say, "Come on woman, the kid is going to wear it for 2 hours a year, do you really want to spend 5 hours gluing it together?" To which I say, that is an excellent point, but yes, I do. It's fun.

For all my judgment on store-bought costumes, Simon has been given and has worn a store bought costume ever year. This year was no different. I sniffed in judgment as he opened a Buzz costume for his birthday. In my imagination cardboard and felt Buzz is way cuter than nylon and plastic Buzz, but common sense told me to shut up.

So, imagine my eyes glimmering in manipulative hope when Simon announced that his Buzz needed wings! We can make wings! Out of cardboard and glue and paper! Yay! (OK, help me out here: I thought that "yeah" meant "yah" and "yea" meant "yay", but there seems to be some confusion on that out here on the internet, so in interest of not being misunderstood, I'm going to start writing yay. Next thing you know, I'll be ending all of my paragraphs with LOL.)

The only problem was that Simon's eyes were also glimmering in excitement at the thought of making wings. Why was that a problem? Well, he had some actual ideas of his own, which were just wrong and were threatening my project. (Hi, my name is Susie, and clearly, I have a problem.)

It was a challenge, but I told my inner control freak to simmer down, and he and I worked together on making wings. We cut up a purple binder to use the vinyl on the outside and modpodged it all to a diaper box. Simon asked for "sparkles," so I let him shake glitter all over my kitchen, and if I do say so myself, those wings were worth the mess. Have you ever seen better Buzz wings created by a five-year-old and his weird mother?!

3)Yes, this is only point 3. I have about 16 more to go. I made Talya and Charlie's costumes based on this brilliant Martha tutorial. When it comes to halloween costumes, Martha has some ideas that are clever and don't require sewing. Talya was a princess and Charlie a frog prince. They were pretty much adorable. It is insanely hard to find a green hooded sweatshirt for toddlers. I had to buy him a girl's version from Target. I cut off the ruffles, but the sleeves puff a little, which just make it more "princely" I think.

This was Talya's first ever foray into the Princessphere. She doesn't know about Disney or Barbie, and it is just adorable to me that her first princess was all about being cute and pretty and pink. I edited Martha's idea to include a long blonde braid - because the last thing I want my daughter to believe is that to be a beautiful princess you have to have blonde hair. I'm telling you, my neuroses know no end.

4) Speaking of neurosis, one of Ben's is the thought of the kids getting cold. It's one of the things that shows his Indian-ness, that he thinks wet hair or chilly weather will lead to The Plague. Maybe he's right. Either way, we layered our kids until they could have all passed as multi-colored marshmallows in jeans. I think we may have been the only family in our hood that actually had overheated kids at the end of the night.

5) The kids were not the only ones to get in on the fun. We hosted a grown-up party last night. Ben and I went as Tiger and Elin the night of The Incident.

There's so much more to say, but my kids are cleaning the windows and tv with diaper wipes and two of them just ran outside without coats or shoes - don't want them to get The Plague! Happy Halloween.

(Linking here:)

Easter Mourning

Easter is a tough one for me to process. Last year, I wrote this post, and it's still what I felt rising to the surface of my heart this weekend.

Something else happened between last Easter and this. I learned more about the Genocide of my son's birth country. I learned that it happened over Easter break. I learned that while the world wore bonnets and sang Allelulia, my son lost relatives and countrymen. Of course that was before he was born, but it will forever be a part of him, and because of that, it will forever be a part of me.

Easter demands I feel this despair. Without the Darkness, the evil and the Death, there is no power of Life. The resurrection teaches me that life is good, but that Life Restored from Death is something else. If I protect myself from the suffering, I deny myself a piece of the Allelulia.

Victory is meaningless if it is not hard-fought, over a powerful enemy.

This week, I mourn with the people of Rwanda for what they lost and what little we did to help. I grieve in hope that ashes are turned to beauty, death is turned to life, and that New Life is better than the one before.

Advent Thoughts as I Wait for My Son

Advent hangs over me thick this year - like a bulky, itchy cloak when you're 9 months pregnant and can't get comfortable and feeling like I've been riding this donkey for-freaking-ever.

I think I get it a little more this year - how Mary might of felt, what advent means. How it's not a celebration as much as it is a Waiting. A hopeful waiting to be sure, waiting for a son. But we both wait in uncertainty, which makes the uncomfortable and scary hide the hope sometimes. I wait in the uncertainty of when, and how big and what are his needs. She waited in the uncertainty of when and where and what will all of this mean, and I better not have been dreaming that Angel Thing.

But we both wait for the Promise. Of a son.

Finally, for Mary, it happened. And as blood soaked the hay and she felt her stretched-out skin settle back into place while shepherds crowded her desire for modesty, I wonder if she thought: Is THIS what I've been waiting for?

And when He said to her, this son whom she birthed and nursed, "Woman what does this have to do with me?" did she wonder with indignance - Is THIS what I waited for?

And when she heard with horror of His arrest, did her wonder turn to anger? Did she shout at the God who moved over her in conception that this is NOT what I've been waiting for!

And when she went to visit the tomb, feeling mournful, lost, hopeful, crazy, and heartbroken - what was she waiting for then?

How many years went by after she buried her Son? How many years more did she have to wait before her own death could finally bring her answers....

....and open arms
and a mansion
and a warm embrace that would know no end
and golden streets
and vanquished enemies
and an end to oppression
and a faithful son's promise that "Mama - THIS is what you've been waiting for"

This Advent, I don't celebrate the past as much as I accept the invitation God has given me to know what it's like to wait for a son. This son I don't look to as my Savior - I won't put that kind of pressure on him - but I can identify with another woman and a nation's long, arduous, mostly hopeful and but too-often hopeless Wait.

There's sadness in waiting because it's a constant reminder that what you're hoping for isn't here... yet. But there's hope too, and that's where my celebration rests.

A Stage Mom's First Pre-School Program

To my friends....

Ok, so while many of you who read this will be getting my Christmas card this year - there are many of you I've only had the pleasure of meeting through this lovely thing called the Internet. But, I am so glad that you are (more than any non-blogger could ever understand) in my life. Yes, it's weird that I don't really know you, but that doesn't change the fact that when your newest post shows up in my reader, it's like getting a letter from a friend. And when you leave a comment, I feel cared for. (Especially when you get all personal and tell me about your lactation experiences - you were all way more helpful than my doctor!)

This Christmas Card was hasty and I have mixed feelings about it - because, of course, Charlie's missing. But, it's a snapshot of where we've been for most of 2009 - just the four of us waiting for our newest member.

Merry Christmas!

Oh, and just to prove my love for you, I'm going to go ahead and tell you my embarrassing story of the week. Simon, in his excitement for a new brother, started poking my tummy and saying things like, "Charlie's in there!" I corrected him and reminded him that Charlie is in Rwanda waiting for us.

"But, Mom! Then why is your tummy getting bigger and bigger and bigger?!?!"

For more bloggy bloggy Christmas cards, or to add your own (and I hope that you do), visit here.

A Very Indian Thanksgiving, and the many thoughts surrounding it

Thanksgiving cracks me up. The myriad of "official" stories of that first celebratory harvest meal between what would soon be warring peoples. The way that it is so "American" and we all join in and are granted vacation time and eat too much, and then go the gym as if we're going to counteract the calorie count of 4 pies. The cliche of the Pilgrims and the "Indians" is especially funny to me, as my first Thanksgiving with real Indians involved a masala turkey prepped by Ben's uncle.

I cried a lot that year. I was engaged to marry Ben, and this was the first real holiday I was celebrating with his family instead of mine, and the it all seemed monumental, final, and foreign. What was lost on me was the spirit of the first meal between "Indian" and white man - coming together in differences (well, in that case, before we steal your land in the name of freedom and a pioneering spirit).

To be honest, I cry sometimes still. It's been 10 years since I've been in this family - a rich, wonderful 10 years of multi-cultural living. It's beautiful and interesting. But, it's hard. It's hard to understand things that you aren't born understanding. And, so much of what we know, we were somehow born knowing. It's in our blood, our genes, our origins, and it shapes everything.

But, this is of course, what makes it worth being thankful for - the things that are not easy. The things we can reflect back on, and say like the writer of my favorite old hymn, "Here I raise mine Ebenezer; hither by thy help I'm come..."*

A Very Indian Thanksgiving has its very entertaining moments. Here are a few from this year:

Simon's pre-school teacher loves the Thanksgiving feast where the Penguins and the Bumblebees come together to eat food that the mamas prepare (or in my case, shamelessly bring in the Trader Joe's packaging). The little Bumblebees are the Pilgrims, and the Penguins (Simon's class) are the "Indians." I was shocked to hear that they still call them Indians - mostly, because that's an inaccuracy white people made centuries ago that you'd think we would have corrected by now.

Anyway, in a pre-schoolyear meeting, I helpfully pointed out that my son is an *actual* Indian who we're trying to help have a healthy understanding of his race and culture, and it might be confusing to tell him that Indians lived in America, wore feathers, and had names like Running Bull.

While I'm sure she found my advice very useful, the Indian festivities continued. I learned that all the kids were given Indian names (I'm pretty sure my son received his four years ago), and when I may have made an issue out of this, I learned that Simon was the Chief Indian. Being the proud mother that I am, I basked in his superiority and decided not to make an issue out of things. Maybe next year.

Now, we're in New York. Last night, we went to church with Ben's parents. They go to a small Indian church that is attended largely by our cousins. Ben is always asked to preach, leaving me sitting alone on the men's side with two crazy kids who are up two hours past their bedtime. Talya was literally rolling around in the center aisle (that red carpeting just looked too fun for her to pass up) while her Daddy preached on Thankfulness, and it just seemed so anti-sentimal for me to cause a temper tantrum at that very moment.

It is a strange and wonderful thing gathering with the real Indians as we celebrate the first meal with the mistaken Indians. It is strange and wonderful because these people are immigrants to this rich country, strangers in the land, just as the pilgrims were. (These immigrants are more gracious,  less give me your land or else).

It is strange and wonderful to celebrate with people who are thankful for the kinds of things the original party-goers were thankful for: God's protection in a strange place, opportunity, going through the hard times to give your kids the good times.

During the pastor's opening remarks, he couldn't remember what year the Pilgrims first came to America. There was a short back-and-forth between him and the congregants.... 1776? No, that was independence. 1492? No, that was Columbus. I laughed because of course they wouldn't know - this is not the kind of thing taught in schools in India. I laughed because I didn't know the answer, and I had a relative or two on the Mayflower.

After churh, we ate a catered turkey dinner in the too-warm basement of the church. To be honest, I was hot, hungry, tired, stressed from keeping Taly away from the platters of hot food, hurried to get to the city to see the Macy's balloons... but thankful. So, so thankful.


*real English translation is supposedly something like this: "Today I commemorate how far You have brought me."

An Ode to Halloween

Okay, so it's not really an "ode." There is no rhyme or verse or rhythm to my love of Halloween, but there is a huge amount of poetic sentiment to it.

I grew up going to a Christian School (of which my Dad was the principal, no less) and to a fairly conservative church, so there were a lot of varying opinions about the holiday - ranging from "It's Devil Worship" to "It's the Best Holiday ever!" Um... maybe I was the only one who held the "pro" position to such an extreme degree.  Being that my creative Dad was in charge of the school, he got to get around the whole Devil thing by having Storybook Character Day, where we all dressed up like characters from our favorite books...because who can argue against reading?

After Storybook Character Day, we rushed home and put on our real costumes.  My costume rules are much like my cake decorating rules: it doesn't have to be perfect, but it has to be at least mostly homemade. It has to involve duct tape and cardboard and cheap face paint. Seriously. One year, my parents caved and dressed me in some store-bought Smurfette costume - the kind with the plastic mask and the smock tied around your clotes: LAME.

To be fair, the creativity gene that I inherited from my Dad is only dominated by my cheap-skate gene. So, for the past two years, Simon's costume has been straight out of a plastic bag - because it was given to him. Last year, a police man, this year a fireman.

Taly has not been so lucky. For the past two years, her costumes have been made from white sweatsuits and electrical tape (2008: jailbird, 2009: dalmatian).

But there is more to this Halloween thing than just the opportunity to dress up. (Oh, and by the way, don't think it's just for kids in this house - Ben and I rocked our Adam & Eve fig leaves!)

I love Halloween because it's stupid and everyone does it. It's not about anything deeply symbolic that we can all argue over. There are no "Keep the Hallow in Halloween" bumper stickers. There is no pressure to travel across the country for one large, high-maintenance meal. It's just some dumb day for fun, parties, and junk food. It gives pumpkins a reason to shine - because seriously, if it weren't for Halloween, how would the pumpkin farmers stay in business?

And, that's what this is about - the pumpkin farmers and keeping them in business.

Oh, and the candy. Especially the peanut-y kind, which my kids can't eat, so Ben sorts into a special bag for me to devour. I mean, really, it was a great day, and I'm a little sad it's over.

I will now go comfort myself with a Peanut Butter Cup.

Take Me Home from the Ball Game!

I was lucky enough to get to celebrate Father’s Day with the two best Daddy’s I know – mine and my kids’. I had the genius idea that we would all go to a Dragon’s Game. The Dragons are the minor league baseball team in town, and doesn’t that just sound like the perfect way to spend Father’s Day?

Everybody who goes to a Dragon’s game gushes about what a great way to spend family time, what a fun time we had, how cheap that was, etc., etc.

So, I convince everyone (me, Ben, our two kids and my parents visiting from out of town) to head to a baseball game where we could spend 40 dollars to sweat in the hot sun and watch a boring sport, when, yes, now that you mention it, one third of us are two young to even know what baseball is.

Also, by the way, now that you mention it, I do hate baseball. And I hate being hot. And I just spent a month sticky and sweating in 90-plus degree heat and to make up for that, I now spend my days thinking of indoor activities so that I don’t have to bake in the sun.

As we were unloading the car, a kind older gentleman approached Simon and asked him if he was going to the baseball game.

Simon: Yup!
Nice Old Man: Are you going to see Heater the Dragon?
Simon (starting to crumple with fear): There’s going to be dragon’s there????
Nice Old Man: Yes! Two of them! Heater and Gem!
Simon: Dragons are mean – I don’t want to see any dragons…. (verge of tears)

During the walk to the ball park, Simon reminded us that he doesn’t like clapping or music. Or dragons.

Awesome.

We were an inning late, so we had to squeeze our blanket around 4 other families in the lawn section, and pile onto it, perched precariously onto the steep hill. About 6 seconds later, we all were dripping with sweat and I was looking around for water. Four minutes after that, I had already broken out the snacks. Two innings later, we began the “When do we go home” discussions. Two more innings went by before we took a walk in the shade and ate ice cream. One inning after that we were out of there.

Dad swears he had a good time, and Ben didn’t make me feel stupid about thinking this was actually going to work out well. Pretty much nothing says Happy Father’s Day like an afternoon at the ballpark.

Lessons from Dad: A Birthday Cake

I don’t come from a super traditional family, but there are some things that are written on my heart like stone. And, when it comes to birthday cake rules, as far as I’m concerned, there are a few hard and fast rules:

1. You must never buy a birthday cake. Birthday cakes must be homemade (Duncan Hines is fine) and hand decorated.
2. Decorating kits and custom pans are cheating.
3. It’s not really about the final product being perfect, as much as it is about the time, creativity, and love put into the decorating.
4. Decorating supplies are not bought, so much as they are rummaged around for in pantries and forgotten cabinets. There isn’t a lot you can’t do without toothpicks and food coloring. And Nerds.
5. Bonus points for repurposing unexpected items. Minus points for anything bought in the cake decorating section of the store.
6. If the kitchen counter isn’t a formidable mess when you’re finished, you’re not finished. Get back to work.
7. First birthdays need to be celebrated with a clown cake and must have a cupcake for its nose. The entire cake must then be presented to the baby for demolishing.

Clown cakes are tricky. As far as clowns go, there is a very fine line between cute and creepy. I immersed myself in icing, licorice ropes, strawberry whoppers, and enough food coloring to dye 6 dozen eggs. I found a medicine syringe that worked out perfectly in place of a piping bag, and most importantly, my little brother was there to convince me to stop while I was ahead and not to use the can of pink icing I found at the last minute.

Thanks to my Dad for teaching me ALL of the important things in life.

Happy Earth Day!

There is less than 2 hours left of Earth Day, and I am going to bed having done nothing to celebrate. Sad day.

1998 was my favorite Earth Day. Kristy (the best college roommate one could hope for) and I decided to be "one with the earth" by sleeping naked (separate beds) and not wearing underwear for the day. How that makes sense is for you to figure out. Anyway, we talked almost our whole Wing into participating in our celebration and later got in trouble because the prospective students visiting were supposedly really freaked out.

To be honest, I wasn't all that aware of Earth Day this year (blame it on my most recent stint as a single mom. I love excuses.) until I started feeding my social media addiction and read the perspectives pouring in through Facebook status updates and Blogs.

I'm not attempting to be critical or judgmental - just wanted to lend my voice to the sea of Earth Day Opinions. That being said, here you go:

I noticed today a fairly overwhelming negative response to Earth Day on religious grounds. Not that you asked, but I'm all for it. As a follower of Jesus, I want to be about: caring for widows and orphans, seeking the lost, building the Body, and being a steward over creation. If you're not a follower of Jesus, that's Christian Code for: loving God's people and taking care of God's stuff.

I forgot to celebrate this day, but here are the itsy-bitsy changes I have made in my life this year:

• Homemade laundry detergent and cleaning products when possible/effective
• Wash cloths instead of paper towels for cleaning up Baby-Led weaning
• Somehow raising a son who insists on turning off all of the lights all of the time, even when I need them.
• No more fabric softener sheets
• Planting an (indoor) garden with Simon that I managed to kill already
  

Okay, so that's all I can think of. But, I've come a long way since the only thing I could come up with was going commando to Chapel.

Jesus & Jack: An Easter Post

Maybe it's my continual failures to explain the resurrection. Or maybe it's that death has been too real this year, too close, much more threatening than ever before.

Maybe those are the reasons why my Easter thoughts for 2009 are less than "traditional" and definitely darker than I've ever thought before.

I love the Easter songs - the hymns that soar victoriously, that sing Hallelujah, that bask in the promise of a resurrection. But this year, we lost a close friend, and behind us sat a family mourning the loss of their beautiful young adult daughter. And let me tell you, that mama and daddy sang the fire out the Easter hymns.

Love's redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids him rise, Alleluia!
Christ has opened paradise, Alleluia!

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal, Alleluia!
Christ hath burst the gates of hell, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids His rise, Alleluia!
Christ hath opened paradise, Alleluia!

Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia!
Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!
Once he died our souls to save, Alleluia!
Where's thy victory, boasting grave? Alleluia

My Jesus did not lie helplessly and sputter to life after three days of sleep. My Jesus saw Death - face to face and beat the crap out of it. Three days of battle ensued, where my Jesus was tortured by a Death who thought It had won. It taunted and threatened and my Jesus fought back.

(I'm not gonna lie. The Jesus I am picturing looks a lot more like Jack Bauer than the picture Simon colored this morning.)

And my Jesus basked in our praises today, but when he looked at my heart and heard my voice singing, he heard me taunting Death right back. My song wasn't one of peace and beauty - my song was full of fighting words.

You have hurt me.
You have threatened to take the joy of those I love.
You have shown yourself powerful and ugly and scary.

But you do not win. You have already lost. Today I cheer my Jesus on, and I spit in your face.

Happy Easter everybody!

Scary Easter, Round 2

With Easter coming up, I figured I should do the responsible thing and teach Simon more about what we celebrate at Easter. Since I am a huge fan of all things chocolate and marshmallow - not to mention baskets and that annoying grass, and those delicious Cadbury Eggs, and jelly beans, and malted milk eggs, I think I've proved my point - there is a real of danger in our house of thinking Easter is about colored eggs and candy.

So, I put my Good Mom hat on and explained why Easter is so special.

"Simon, do you remember how we read about Jesus dying on the cross?"

Of course he remembers. It scarred him for life.

"Well, remember that we also learned that Jesus didn't stay dead. He became alive again." (I thought resurrected might be stretching the vocabulary a bit too much, but my description doesn't stretch it quite enough, does it?)

"That's why we have Easter. We are celebrating that Jesus is alive."

silence. I get nervous in the silence because that means the boy is thinking.

Sure enough:

"Mommy, do we have to die on Easter like Jesus?"
(Is this an appropriate time to crack a joke, "No, but we get to DYE on Easter!" Ha ha ha!)

Then:
"Mommy, when will we die?"

My answer sucked: "When Jesus says it's time." If I could rewrite that one I would in a heartbeat, because Simon's reply was what I should have expected from a three-year-old with an active imagination who has just been told of a death-dispensing talking Jesus: "Mommy, I think Jesus said it's time."

Okay. Here's where it may have been appropriate to pull something out of my theological bag of tricks about death and new life. But, I decided that I just needed to scrap this conversation, whip out the Peeps, and try again in a day or so. Any suggestions?

Goodbye, Halloween

The Halloween season is officially over. We celebrated in style last night with a grown-up party for our AIA friends. In the spirit of the presidential election and our own independent political leanings, we dressed up as Sarah Palin and Barack Obama. I wasn't committed to character enough to cut myself bangs, but I did add to my costume Baby Trig and a hunting rifle. Ben ticked off the mostly-McCain-loving-crowd by carrying around an Obama script and using his talking points the whole evening.

Prizes were given to Debbie Fesler for her impressive rock star costume. I'm not sure how she got a hold of my leopard pants. In fact, minus the afro, she looks pretty much how I did in college.

Jared and Erin Wellman for dressing up like each other

And Megan Soderberg for her ridiculous costume - "Partly Cloudy, Chance of Rain" - talk about getting into the spirit of Halloween!

All in all, fun times.

Trick or Treat

As I mentioned, Halloween is my favorite holiday. But, as a parent, I realize that all children are temperamental, and my oldest is especially unpredictable. So, I decided early in the day that I would be satisfied if I got two kids costumed at the same time long enough to be in the same photo. I would be thrilled if we made it around the couldesac.
After disqualifying Minnie Mouse for being a girl, Donald Duck for being too difficult for Mommy to make without spending money, we decided Simon would be Goofy and Talya would be Minnie. All I needed to complete the magic of homemade disney characters was a green hat and Minnie ears. No luck on the green hat, so I didn't even look for the Minnie ears (knowing Simon would just hijack them anyway).
Thankfully a friend of Stan's swooped to the rescue with a stash of Halloween costumes for Simon that he found at a nearby store. Apparently he doesn't feel the same way I do about spending money on Halloween costumes. And my principles go out the window when someone else spends the money and I get to call of the Great Green Goofy Hat search.
So, Simon was a police man, and Taly, well, I thought she would make a cute little jailbird. Never mind that Simon didn't have a clue what she was because he thinks the Police "help" people, and he doesn't really know about jail, handcuffs, billy clubs, criminals, etc. I told him the billy club his costume came with was to help the police knock down doors that are stuck. Whatever - my child frightens easily and I don't need him pointing at people in public telling me they look scary and are they a criminal Mommy?
A few strips of electrical tape on Tal's white clothes completed the outfit. Everyone told us all evening what a cute baby boy we had. I guess criminal is more socially accepted for boys.
Family Fun night started off with a fizzle. Simon made it through cutting the top off the pumpkin before he got bored and went to watch Lightning McQueen. I completed the pumpkin while Ben hold fussy-getting-to-be-bedtime Baby Criminal.
But, the enthusiasm resumed when it was time for costuming. Simon jumped into his Policeman Uniform and off we went across the street to the one neighbor that we actually know. She said, "Oh Simon, are you a Police Man?" And he screamed at her, ran down the driveway and said, "I don't WANT TO!" We regrouped, though. He quickly realized that all he had to say were three words and people dumped candy into his bag. He even said thank you to everyone and hopped down the sidewalk yelling, "This is SO super fun!" Seriously.
After a few houses I took the criminal home for bed and Ben and Simon hit another block. Unfortunately for him, luckily for me, Simon is allergic to all my favorite candy, so I'll just eat it up for him so he doesn't get sick.
To my great surprise, the successful evening continued when Sy stood at our door and handed out candy to all the other trick-or-treaters. Except the scary ones. Mommy and Daddy did those.
Happy Halloween!

It's that time of year...

...where everyone posts the Fall Family Fun pictures. Here's our of picking apples.

Picasa Oct

Halloween

Yes, it's early, but Halloween is my favorite holiday so we've started preparing by planning a party and filling Simon in on the details.

His first Halloween he was 6 weeks old and not so much a fan of the doorbell ringing every 3 and a half minutes. As you can see.


The next year, we were in India, and Ben worked very hard to find us pumpkins to carve. Simon was a basketball player. He ate the pumpkin.


Well, this is the first year that Simon will know what is going on, so I'm working hard to psych him up. Today I told him he was going to be Mickey Mouse, who is his favorite "person" in the whole world (sometimes he likes me better). He started saying, no. I thought he just didn't understand what a costume was, so I tried to explain it to him. He interrupted, "No Mommy. I want to be Minnie Mouse."

I'll let you know how we work out a compromise on that one.

Then I told him about trick-or-treating. He said it "will NOT be fun." I said, "Don't you want to go to people's houses to get candy?!" He said, "I can get food at my house."

Good point. Obviously this kid doesn't appreciate Halloween as much as his mother.