The Normal Halloween Post

We had a good Halloween week this week. On Tuesday our ward had a Trunk or Treat party, which the kids loved. Two of Everett's friends (who happen to also live in our complex) were firemen as well, so I had to get a picture of the three of them.

Yes, Everett has make-up on his face. Ashley had her face done up for her costume and Everett was very displeased that he couldn't have anything on his face. We compromised with eyeshadow, which looked much lighter in real life than it does in this picture.

Ashley was a dog. I don't mind having this kind of dog around the house :).

Both the kids got balloon items at the activity. Ashley's is supposed to be a cat (it even has a face on the side you can't see) but she pulled it apart. It didn't stop her from loving it to death, though. Everett got a fireman hat.

THEN, today our complex threw a huge Halloween party. They even erected an enormous white tent in the playground area, complete with heaters inside. We were treated to a pizza dinner, a petting zoo, a horse-drawn hay ride, and a bonfire set by the Notre Dame Firefighters themselves. At the end of the night Everett took home a blue glowstick, which he carried around saying "I show you, Mama, I show you," to which I would have to appear suitably impressed as he demonstrated how it glows in the dark.

The petting zoo, complete with goats, a calf, a miniature donkey, a miniature pony, and an alpaca, was the highlight of Ashley's night. All she wanted to do was go screech at the animals, but if she got too close she'd start shuddering with fright.

I tried to get a good picture of the kids before they went trick-or-treating, but I wasn't very successful. They don't look nearly as excited as they were, but that's the way it goes.

I think they were both happy with the candy they got. Ashley held onto her bucket the entire time, even though Joel was holding her, and Everett happily said "trick or treat" up and down all the stairs. . .but not always when someone opened the door.


It's a good thing the kids are too young to compare amounts of candy they got, because thanks to Joel, Ashley certainly ended up with a lot less. I don't mind, though. I don't need all this around the house.

Fun Pumpkins: A Matter of Opinion

We had the chance to carve a pumpkin when we had a friend over a couple of weeks ago, so the kids and I decided to paint small pumpkins this year and put them on the windowsill. They have yet to stay up there; Everett sleeps with his and Ashley is always playing with hers. When I had them paint the pumpkins, I thought it would be an item of interest for about an hour, not an entire week!

Everett didn't stop until his pumpkin was completely covered in paint and he got to put a face on it, and Ashley didn't stop until her pumpkin was a nice shade of brown. At the end, we put a whole bunch of gold glitter on the pumpkins. This prompted Joel to announce that the pumpkins are "hideous" and spend the next few days muttering about how much he hates glitter. We just laughed at him.

It was a fun activity and I think we would like to do this every year. Everett knew about two weeks in advance that we were going to paint the pumpkins and I don't think a day went by that he didn't comment about it.

After the kids were done, I couldn't let them do anything until they had a nice bubble bath together. Ashley is old enough now that they both enjoy having her there and they can play quite nicely together--well enough for me to clean up in the other room and just listen to them, anyway.

(I had a request for "pictures of the grandkids" so here they are. They are just bath pictures, so feel free to skip.)

They have a great time talking to each other and playing little games. Everett knows he is not supposed to drink the water but he was doing it to see if I would stop him.

And, I just found this picture of the kids that was taken in February.

Don't they look older now, especially Ashley? It is certainly easier for Everett to play with her now, and he appreciates that she mimicks everything he does. I don't always appreciate it, but that is a whole other post :).

Keeping It Real

I spent today working on a sewing project for Ashley, and this is what the house ended up looking like:

BUT, there was no blood, no vomiting, no tantruming, and no unhappy kids. Was it worth the archaeological clean-up?

Definitely.

Proper Terminology

A couple of weeks ago, the kids and I were at Home Depot looking over the supplies we'd need for an upcoming project. As soon as we walked in the door, Everett demanded that we go over and see the tools.


After I explained that there were some things I needed to look at first (like wood), he patiently waited until I was ready. Then we spent a good time inspecting every tool, my limited knowledge impressing his two-year-old mind. At the top of his list was a careful examination of the hammers, so I explained the difference between a hammer and a mallet.


"A hammer," I said, using very scientific terms, "has one pointy side and one flat side. A mallet has two flat sides and can be very heavy. You can use it to knock into things."


Everett nodded solemnly as he took it all in. He brushed a few mallets with his fingertips and then we were on our way.


A few days later, his speech therapist came to visit. When she showed him his picture cue cards (to encourage correct pronounciation of certain words), she got to a picture of a yellow mallet.


"What is this?" She asked, hoping for him to say "hammer" correctly.


"Mallet!" Everett shouted excitedly. She looked at me, confused. I explained that he knows the difference and thought she would move on.


"Everett, can you say 'hammer'?" She pointed to the picture.


"No, Mallet." Everett was insistent, and he turned to me. "Mallet, Mama."


"Yes, very good, Everett. Can you say hammer?" I asked.


"Mallet!"


"Everett, it is a picture of a mallet, you're right. But we just want you to say hammer. Can you do that?" A thought occurs to me; I grin as I say excitedly, "Hey! Can you say "hammer" into. . .my ear?"


His skeptical expression told me I was nuts. He shook his head and pointed insistently at the yellow image. "Mallet, Mama! Mallet!"


We decided we'd wait until next time to coax the word out of him, but he has remembered every week so far. At least that's one word we are confident he knows how to say. Well, minus the "ll" part, but who's counting?


Everett is making a lot of progress; I've said that before. I tend to think this is coincidental to speech therapy rather than because of it (his speech started improving before we started), but we all enjoy the sessions and so I am happy to be continuing with them. However, we only have three sessions left before Everett is ineligible due to his age! When Everett turns three, he will hopefully move to a state-sponsored preschool. We have an evaluation today to determine what sort of class to put him in.

I am hoping that, given the type of increase we've seen in Everett's speech so far, he will be speaking in sentences when we move. He will sometimes, but mostly he confines the sentences he is thinking into two or three word phrases. Example:

Everett points out high school football players on their field.

"Yeah, they are playing football, aren't they?" I comment.

"Me too, football!!!" Everett says, patting his chest to indicate himself, that he wants to play.


I am thrilled to have actual conversations with him. Someday maybe he'll be able to get it all out. Right now, I have to remember to explain things to him the way he thinks, not speaks. It is working. I have this hope that if I fill his head with ideas, he will want to talk about them all the more.

Everett is excited to go play games with a "nice lady" at a real school, and Ashley is (presumably) excited to play at a friend's house. I'm just excited for next Tuesday when we get to have a conference about the evaluation results (he will have no problem qualifying; that much I'm sure of, but I don't know what they will want to do with him).

Excitement. It must explain the kids' hyperactive early rising this morning.

Can You Name This City?

Yes, that's right. What you see behind us is the Chicago skyline! Joel has had a week off of school and we decided to go up with some friends on Tuesday for free admission to the Shedd Aquarium and some general sightseeing. We were not disappointed. It was beautiful weather and the kids had a great time.

Highlights for Everett: The car ride to the airport to the bus ride to the train ride to the city, and later, eating pizza at a restaurant.

Highlights for Ashley: NOT the train ride home. Everything else, yes.

We walked through Milennium Park and saw the famous Cloud Gate sculpture. Everett thought it looked like a giant jelly bean, and I think he was right. Ashley had a lot of fun venturing off to explore by herself (or so thought some of the other tourists, who informed me that my child was wandering around and were appeased once I pointed out that she was heading right over to Joel.)

Everett enjoyed finding his reflection underneath the giant bean.

Another highlight was this giant T-Rex sculpture, part of the Chinese Modern Art display in the park. I thought it was clever that the belly of the dinosaur has "made in china" on it, but the kids only cared about making roaring noises.

Everett and Joel, pontificating on the nature of that giant T-Rex sculpture. Or something.

Everett was ecstatic to be riding on the train. A few days before the trip. Everett and I sat down with the calendar and drew little doodles about the events of our week. Needless to say, he had been counting down almost hourly until we got to ride on the "choo choo train". The morning of our trip he woke up acting like he had chugged twelve energy drinks. Fortunately he was largely occupied by the window for a good part of the two-hour ride, even by passing cornfields.

The other parts of the train ride were consumed by snacks, books, and stringing beads. I thought the beads would work well for Everett, but I had no idea how well. He loved it, it kept him entertained for a long time, and he has even wanted to sleep with his finished bead ropes. Even Ashley loved playing with the finished result.

Joel helped Everett with bead string number two on the way home. I kept teasing him that he and Everett get the same slack-jawed look of concentration on their faces, but he just scoffed. Here is the proof.

It was a great trip and I hope to go back before we move away from here. Chicago is a fun city. We treated ourselves to famous deep-dish pizza and famous popcorn, and plenty of walking to make up for it. It was a perfect day.

Backseat Driving

Joel is the worst backseat driver. This is how it usually goes when I am the one driving the car and he is enduring the trip in the passenger seat:

"Elise, those people are going to cross the crosswalk up there."

(Already pressing the brake pedal) "Yes, honey, I see them."

". . . I know."

"Well, then why did you point it out?"

"I just. . .I just wanted to make sure. Hey, you can turn now."

(As I'm already starting to turn) "Yes, honey, I know. . ."

"Why are you still behind this guy? He's going so slow!"

"Because we're turning right in half a block."

"Oh, great. Now we're going to miss this light, all because of this guy," comments Joel, now irritated.

"Doesn't matter," I say, "we don't have anywhere we have to be."

"It does too matter. We could be way up there by now!"


Usually I just let him drive. We're both much happier that way. When I'm all alone with the kids, though, I can have the run of the road minus the constant driving commentary. Until lately, that is. You see, Everett has recently discovered the wonder of traffic lights.

"Red light, Mama, red light! STOP!"

"Ok, Everett!"

"Jelly Bean, Jelly Bean, turn the light GREEN!" (the light turns.) "IT WORKED!!!!" He giggles profusely. "Go, Mama! GO, GO, GO! GO GO GO! Faster!"

"I'm going, buddy. I'm going."


For some reason, this backseat driving stuff is a whole lot cuter when it comes from the mouth of a two-year-old. Either this means that Joel just isn't cute anymore, or it means I have a soft spot for my young child. Whatever the reason, my car trips are not quite the same anymore. . .

Beating the Rainy Day Blues

It was a rainy, blustery day here in South Bend today. Joel is gone to a job interview until tomorrow night. We have a long winter ahead of us.

By default, I have discovered a very important equation:

not being able to go outside + rambunctious kids x student budget = I have to get creative.

We have had a lot of failures. Unfortunately (fortunately?) I do not have those on camera, so you only get to see the successes. Why do we only take pictures of the successes? The failures are far more interesting. I cannot take credit for all of these ideas, as Everett is pretty good at coming up with messy activities all on his own.

Idea #1: What Everett has dubbed "The Balloon Train". It's simple. You string a piece of yarn across the room. Blow up some balloons. Tape a straw on each balloon. Thread them on the yarn. Turn on a powerful fan and watch them sail along the string! For more fun, leave an inflated balloon untied, and release the end while it is on the string. It will blow itself into the other balloons, prompting your almost three-year-old to laugh hysterically due to the "train crash."

Idea #2 is Everett's invention. It's a mattress slide. Am I the only one who used to do this, too? My sister and I had a bunk bed, and my parents hated it when we'd lean the top mattress against the floor and top bunk, then throw ourselves down it. But the rush was worth the risk of discipline.

I think it's safe to say that Ashley had fun with it too.

Idea # 3 is a popular one: cooking. Everett and Ashley get a lot of pleasure out of completely dis-assembling my kitchen in the name of creating a feast. The setup you see in this picture pales in comparison to their usual spread.

P.S. Also Everett's idea.

Building forts always has its place. I think Everett takes these couch cushions off every day (ever since I removed the couch cover in the hope of trying to remove a massive vaseline spot. Don't ask--also Everett's doing.). Here you see the roof (blanket) and the three steps (pots & stool) leading to the doors (green pillows).




It doesn't take long for me to be out of ideas. I'm sure some of you have some good ones. Want to share? Do you have anything to add?

Sometimes I Want to Murder My Television

Our TV really has it in for me. No, I'm serious; it really does. It is a maniacal little thing that gets a vast amount of pleasure out of torturing my mind.

I'm mentioned this before, but the only scary movie I've ever seen is The Ring. That was enough for me. I went into it thinking it would be intense, so I was wholly unprepared for the evil and creepy factors. I had nightmares for months after that one.

It's been four years now since I've seen that movie. I have refused to see another movie like that one, and it pleases me to say that I am no longer plagued by images of a decaying girl climbing through my television and killing me with a single glare.

However, I think my TV keeps wanting to remind me. At random times during the day and night, it will turn on. It might happen while I'm doing the dishes. It might be on when I come home from an errand. Or I'll wake up with a start in the middle of the night to the hum of soft audio and eerie flickering blue-green light reflected against our washer and dryer. Flicker, Flicker. I dare you to get out of bed. I dare you, I dare you.

Sometimes I nudge Joel to go turn it off. Sometimes I lay there for a while, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck raise every time I close my eyes. Sometimes when it comes on, I really have to go to the bathroom. Sometimes I buck up and just go already (after turning the TV off); sometimes I wait it out.

Regardless, I will be happy when we replace our TV. In the meantime, I think I am going to start sleeping with our remote.

Hallmark Has It All Wrong

When Joel and I had been married for a year, he was smart enough to know he should do something for our anniversary. He knew I liked flowers. He even knew what those flowers were. So he made a call, loosened his student wallet, and ordered me a beautiful bouquet of red roses and lilies, complete with vase and baby's breath.

When it arrived I found that I was surprised by Joel's indulgence. I loaded him up with thanks, but I noticed he didn't seem too satisfied with his purchase.

"What? Is there some sort of issue?"

"No!" He replied. "Do you like them?"

"Of course!" I thought for a minute. "Wait, how much did these cost?"

"It doesn't matter." Joel shuffled his feet a little and then looked away.

"Well, I'm just curious. Tell me. How much were the flowers?" After a little waffling on Joel's part and some bambi eyes on mine, he confessed the amount (more than 60 dollars, less than 80). It was extravagant; that was a week's worth of groceries.

I started laughing. The more I laughed, the more uncomfortable Joel became.

"What did you do that for?!!" I laughed. "Don't you know I'm happy with a grocery store bouquet? Ten bucks." I laughed some more. "I mean, these flowers are gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Grocery store flowers don't look this good, and this came with a very nice vase. I just mean that I don't need you to spend that kind of money on me."

"Well, I didn't mean to. I was on the phone and told her what I wanted, and it took forever, and then she told me the price, and I just didn't know what to say. So I paid." Joel's sheepish discomfort was growing and I decided we'd better change the conversation.

"Honey, they're perfect. I love them. Thank you for being so thoughtful and being willing to get them for me." A long kiss made him feel a little better, I thought.

But I'm not so sure it did. I think that early purchase ruined the entire experience for him--Joel has never gotten me flowers again.

However, I am not bothered by this. Joel does things for me now that mean so much more to me than someone else's floral creation.

We have a netflix account, and we use the instant play feature more often than we use the TV. A few days ago Joel insisted on watching "Wives and Daughters" with me, just because he thought I'd like it. If you are not familiar with this movie, it comes in four parts and is very much a movie filled with parlor conversations and not much else. It the kind of movie I really enjoy, and it is the kind of movie Joel fidgets relentlessly through; but we watched every last second of it together, all at Joel's request.

When the five hours were over, Joel stretched and said, "Well, what did you think? I told you you'd like it."

(What he did not say was this: "Wow, well that was a colossal waste of time. Where's my remote? I'm feeling like a little Sports Center right now.")

Then there are the times Joel gets up with the kids so I can sleep for a half an hour more. The days he leaves his laptop home because he knows I like to use it during the day. The fact that he would rather spend his evenings home with me than out socializing with friends. That he never, ever grumbles when I mention a girls' night or a Relief society meeting I need to attend. Even the fact that he has no problem with me controlling the budget.

He frequently tells me he loves me, that he is in love with me, and that he appreciates me.

Hallmark, you're sadly mistaken. Love isn't bought; it is lived. Just ask Joel. (But don't be surprised if he turns bright red and denies everything.)

Conference Weekend: The Reality

We really enjoyed conference weekend. Joel and I put the kids down for a nap during the morning session (because it starts at noon here) and enjoyed a little peace and quiet. During the afternoon session, well, we had to get a little creative as it happened to be the time the kids are used to going outside to burn off energy.

I have been working on crocheting a blanket (the red and blue pile you see in the picture below) and Everett has always wanted to help me. I let him pick out his own yarn and crochet hook this week, and I got him started on his own piece of. . .something. He liked pretending he was crocheting, anyway.

Wild colors, but he sure liked them--He even wanted to sleep with the whole shebang.

Of course, there's always a game like Blokus to make everyone happy.

When we run out of games, we move on to food, like eating apples while standing on the same stool.

OR, sharing popsicles.

When the food doesn't work anymore, we move on to wrestling.

And if I don't watch out, there are two sneaky boys who love to tackle their Mama.

Of course, we always have a bunch of this going on. . .

But after hanging upside down for a while, the belly laughs come out and the world starts to look more fair.

Conversations we had during Conference:

"Hey Honey, do you want to roll my yarn into a ball while I work on this row?"

"No. . . Why would I want to do that?"

"Just wait. When we're 70 years old you'll be sitting peacefully by me, rolling all my yarn, while I crochet blankets for the grandkids."

"Hah! Yeah right. Never gonna happen."

"Everett, make sure you go potty IN the toilet this time instead of hitting the floor."

"O-tay, Mama."

"Candy, Mama! Candy, Mama! CANDY! MAMA, CANDY!"

"Everett, did you finish your apple? Oh, nevermind. Two pieces."

"No, three!"

"If you count to ten for me, I'll give you three pieces."

Notice something missing? Yep, that's right. We didn't have too many gospel conversations around here. I didn't hear very many talks in their entirety without getting distracted (demanded on) by the kids. Our online transmission jumped to french for a while. We had to restart our computer a few times. The kids had a lot of energy.

But somehow we felt edified and uplifted. The talks were wonderful. Many of the speakers said things I had been praying to hear. The spirit was in our home more strongly, tantrums notwithstanding.

Such is the beauty of Conference weekend. I'm already looking forward to the next one.

Dressing Up

I don't know what it is, but there is just something about a little girl in a tutu.

Ashley loved wearing it and didn't want to take it off. Everett wanted one for himself, but Ashley already had dibs!

Sometimes (well, often) when I ask Everett to do something, I do it in an irritated way. I am trying be more mindful of my tone but I don't always remember.

Most of the time, he is very compliant. Whether I'm irritated with him or not, he replies amiably:

" 'tay, Mama." (OK, Mama) and cheerfully goes on to do whatever I asked him.

Somehow that simple reply just melts all my frustration away. I am so happy he is in our family!