The Countdown Ends!

Yes. I completely agree. Isabella's "show all my missing teeth" grin is the scariest sight around.

Happy Day, the countdown has been counted, the day is here, and they are ready to explode with anticipation. Lucky for the chaperones, it is sunny and warm, and a pleasant eve for the occasion.

Be safe! Have fun!

And, join me in hoping for many Milky Way Dark chocolates.

(Are you wondering if I will be indeed be Phoenix's wish for a Frincess?

Well, you will see tomorrow... bwahahaha...)

That Edge

On feisty days the energy runs

and tries to break out-

I am someone

I used to be.

The mirror tells me I am not

but the eyes

they give the game away

Through me and to me

they say you are who you are

grown up or small

tamed or

wild

Winds of change blow through

I am drawn along the edge

of feeling the present and the past hand in hand

who says time is separate

when it walks so closely

in the heart

Now a fierceness stares back

daring me to become

what the wild wind says

It is not angst or longing this time

not anymore

It is pure power of life

And I know the moment it dives under the skin

Enlivening, freeing, acknowledging

Seeing the loop of then and now

I am free

BL

10/30/11

Guest Blog: Phoenix the Frash-Talker

Doody-head. Buttocks. Stupid.

I say this thing over and over, and everybody laughs.

Then I get in frouble.

Mom says I'm a frash-talker, and I better stop talking frash to the kids.

And not to call her names either, 'cause I go to my room.

I tell her, I say, I tell you, it's Cole's room. It's not my room.

It's Cole's room. That's sure Cole's room. Where I'm going for time out now, huh, doody-head?

You're like a potty head. Frick or freat, smell my feet, gimme sumfin good to eat, I don't care, I pull my underwear up. It's almost Halloween. I see scarefrows in the yards. I see scarefrows downtown, and I yell SCAREFROW! There's a SCAREFROW!

Then I say Hold my hand Mom.

You're a doody-head.

Old lady.

You're a old lady.

Nice haircut Mom. Nice earrings. No! No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

It's not my room, I can't go to my room!

Hold my hand Mom.

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This guest post was not scripted. Nor exaggerated. Start praying for me now.

Ode to Footwear

Dear Offspring,

It has come to my attention that I am spending way too much of my time with your clothing items. One type, in particular. The lowly, lonely, sock. Fifty-six child-size socks per week, to be exact.

Whether it's gathering up socks from far-flung dusty places, unwadding, unrolling and insiding-outing, or (my favorite) taking crusty ones outside to shake out, I am up to my ears. These socks have no mates. These socks are a socky mess. I daydream of throwing them all away and getting one color and size for you all. I hardly think you would care. I find them under the couch, I find them on the stairs. I find them in my car, for heaven's sake, with a cloud of smelly foot rising up from them. Discarded, deserted, dispatched with haste - sock, you are anathema to me.

I know I have convinced you that scraped and banged-up legs just mean you are having fun. I do not feel the same about socks. Dirty smelly inside-out balled-up socks in every room do not mean you, or I, are having fun.

I can't care, says my inner Phoenix. I just can't care about socks anymore. When your feet get cold in the coming chill, just know that all of your socks have gone to that place in the ether where lost items go.

The dryer.

Love,

Mom

Halloween Fever is on

They are dressed...

and ready...

for one of their favorite...

nights of the year!

The costumes come out every afternoon, the Halloween shirts are worn days on end, the discussion of which streets we will go down has begun. Before long, Cole will publish his map (made weeks ago) of the best houses to trick or treat - I've seen this map, and he's right. Hi, neighbor with full-size candy bars! And in the true manner of a wired kid, Cole has G00gled "how to get the most candy at halloween." He came to me with his results, wearing a furrowed look and shaking his head. Oh G00gle. What idiotic Web-driven masterpiece has he searched up now? (I do have search lock on his computer)

He snorted and said some teenagers were posting mean ways to get candy. Whew. Could've been ugly.

We share stories from last year, of the haunted garage our friends hosted, of the other haunted garage that creeped some kids out so badly, they ran the other way. I'll admit, when Cole asked me to walk up to that garage with him, and I saw the head hanging in the midst of a dry ice fog, a bare table with one small dish of candy, and felt the mood set by the intense music.... ooooh. Shivers!

Music, dry ice and decapitation - these 3 elements rule the spooky world.

Most Bizarre-o? The Indian man. Definitely.

We approached that house, noting that the front door was open, but the opening was covered completely by a plastic sheet with Halloween decorations on it. A small hole was cut out at waist height. As the kids approached, a wrinkled brown hand poked out the hole in the plastic, clutching candy to drop into their bags. A voice from behind the plastic prattled on, and cackled, but we couldn't understand a word.

As you may imagine, this sparked some discussion over the process of people immigrating to the US, and trying to make sense of the massive consumer-fest that is Halloween. He had decorated, albeit unusually, and he had procured candy, wrapped and brand-name. We'll be looking for you again this year, Mr. Pokey-Hand! You sure got the creepy part down!

Here's hoping your little ghouls are also revving up...

The Eyes of the Beholder

What are you being for Halloween, Mom? A Frincess?

With these simple words, the boy had my back. I never doubted his sincerity. In his eyes, I am some sort of "Frincess," and this princess melted a little and forgave him a lot. He is my constant companion, always watching, forever seeing. The first to notice a new purse, or new earrings - and the boy knows who butters his bread.

Nice earrings, Mom. Nice purse.

But mostly it's just who he is.

His ornery, wild, hilarious side is perfectly counter-balanced by his complimentary, small-gentleman side. It had to be so. Or else he would spend eternity in his room, contemplating his toddler follies.

I'm sorry, Mom. I just love you.

The keys to the dungeon are sweet and sincere. Large, watery hazel eyes look straight into my eyes, and all of his bravado (and oh, there's a-plenty) drops away. I shake my head at how one small boy can get what an apology is and should be, and execute it perfectly. Other local children, who shall remain nameless, could take lessons in the offering of a sincere apology.

Here's to you, you little stinker.

Just when I think you are beyond the pale, you go and say something so sweet. You are always tricking me, Phoeney-Phoenster. "Fricked ya!" you yell, hooting at me. Yep, you sure did trick me. Keep it up.

The Full Moon and other Randomness

What has gone wrong with these children? Something weird is in the atmosphere.

These were my thoughts yesterday, and lo and behold - it was a full moon. Universe, let's please just blame the full moon, let it wax and wane, and allow for the return of my *real* children ASAP.

Thank you.

*******************************************************

In other kid news, Cole has learned to whistle. I cannot stress enough how this has impacted my day to day life. It's like living with Whistlin' Will, and everywhere I go, he follows. Whistling.

Cole also has had two goals this week, by way of trying to earn money.

1. Hunt for a lost cat whose owner has posted signs all over the neighborhood.

2. Hunt for a lost scarecrow, that was made by an elementary class, and stolen from downtown. The mayor has posted a $100 reward.

Believe me, this kid has his eyes peeled for *any* suspicious characters toting scarecrows. And any cats that could fit the description of: "Lost. Gray cat. Reward." Neighbor, he has your phone number in his pocket. Be warned.

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As for me?

I am staying afloat in all my duties and commitments. :) Doesn't that sound nice? It hasn't been. I am actually feeling frazzled and too busy. Also, I feel like a janitor. The challenge of it, oh the challenge! Waaaaah.... I knew I should have stuck with the kid update.

Know what I should do?

As soon as they are out the door to school, I should head out looking for scarecrows and cats.

The Counselor part two

Her troubles were mounting, and it was time for another visit with The Counselor.

Isabella: I talked to the counselor again. I told her I can't ride my bike. It's too hard without training wheels. And I told her that I want to go to the park or play Wii with my family this weekend. Those were my troubles.

*******************************************************

Fast forward a week. I asked her at bedtime if she been to the counselor again this week.

Isabella: No. Now we are only allowed to go if we have problems. We can't go to her and just talk about our day. So, now only the kids that have problems can go to her office.

Counselor chat nipped in the bud. Just like that. Oh Counselor! I knew thee so shortly, and had such hopes. Where will my child now find answers to her dear troubles?

Countdown!

Halloooo! I got my act together and finished this little cutie before the start of October. I have wanted to make a Countdown calendar for two years now, but it requires: 1. making it, and 2. making it before the 1st of October. You see the dilemma.

If I were a craft blogger, I would have photographed the steps taken. But that requires: 1. photo skillz, and 2. remembering to photograph each step.

Oh, have I none? I have none.

The good news, oh there's always good news... Rather than painting an old crusty cookie sheet, I used a shiny new IKEA one - and hey! Red! Love it! Plus? Everything on this is magnetized, so I can remove it all and use the red cookie sheet for... wait for it... a Christmas Countdown calendar as well. Oh, you want one, right? I know. Me too. I better get right on that.

I spent a few mornings of my Phoenix-free time making these magnets, and while it was soothing and enjoyable to me, there are quicker ways to go. Halloween stickers, number stickers, card stock, a sheet of magnets, and presto change-o - cool magnets! I am part owner of a Cricut, so I used that to cut out the branches and some numbers and other shapes, but most of the stickers and sparkly papers were from the Target dollar bins and craft area. The kids are taking turns removing the magnets, and since I have cleaned off one. whole. side of the fridge (bonus!), there is a place to put them, where we can still enjoy these fun cuties.

And that, my friends, is one of the only things I've gotten done this month. Yes. Scary, isn't it? I am spooked myself. Traci I know you are proud... you are the reason! And you knew I would find a shortcut to painting an old pan! :) clickit here to see Traci's awesome calendar.

To Care or Not to Care

What is this word, to care?

I hear it a lot around here. Only it is reversed, turned into a nonchalant, breezy rejection.

Thank you Phoenix. You have taught us that we care too much about too many things.

We should take your advice, and dial back the caring.

Isabella: It's OUR room! Get out! You're making a mess!

Phoenix, easy, breezy: I can't care it's your room. I can't care about a mess.

Cole: Phoenix! Stop hitting me with that bat!

Phoenix, nonchalantly: I can't care I'm hitting you. I can't care it's your bat.

He has been through so many names already, right? Mr. Big, Todzilla, Noonie...

And now I add a new one. Kookaburra. From the song, only he does not sit in a tree, though he does demand Save More For Me! It has a nice ring, as in, hey you little kookaburra, stop throwing shoes!

He throws his head back and laughs maniacally. He is boy, he is Kookaburra, and I may stow him away in the top of a gum tree if I can ever find one. Just to keep him safe, you know.

Safe from the Mommy who wants to stop all of his kookaburra-ing, wild antics and hear him from the distance of a tall tree some days.

Mommy: Phoenix, stop pestering everyone. Find a hobby, because this is not it.

Phoenix, pointing a sassy finger: Pester! Pester! I'm sure pestering. I'm sure gonna get those kids. I tell you! I tell YOU I'm getting them!

It is his world, that bold Kookaburra, and we better just do what he wants, so no one gets hurt.

Cause when the Kookaburra goes all Cuckoo, no one escapes unscathed...

I've been away, and out of the blog zone. Blame it on the Kookaburra. No, seriously. It's all him. I'll get my fall routine going and be back!