bzzzzz

i've written about how liam's halloween costume came to be this year -- a process that began a few months ago when he informed me of his desire to be a pirate, and involved a very thorough search online and in stores before i found the perfect one.

i neglected to describe how susanna's choice of costume came to be. let me elaborate.

1) i opened the box of halloween decorations.

2) i found liam's old bumblebee costume.

3) i told susanna that this year she would be a bumblebee.

poor second child.

pumpkin imperfection

we carved our pumpkins last night. it was one of those times where chris and i got super excited in anticipation of the event, hyped it up to the kids ... and it flopped. liam preferred riding his bike all around the deck, giving us a sideways glance now and then, and susanna was totally grossed out by the gooey innards and wanted nothing to do with it. of course, you'd never know their lack of interest from the picture. amazing how they can perk right up when all the dirty work is done, making it look like they were quite the involved participants! i wish that i could say that liam was laughing hysterically at my creative jack o'lantern design, along with everyone else who stops by. alas, no one is really getting it. i guess not everyone channels their inner math geek like i do. chalk the entire experience up to a disappointment. what's the halloween form of the phrase "bah humbug"?

a study in contrasts

just a few contrasts between the last presidential election and this current one, at least on the super small scale of sara mann ... 2004: i voted in the final hours on election day 2008: i voted eight days early 2004: my voting companion was a sleeping 2 1/2-month old son 2008: my voting companion was a very-much-awake 2 1/2-year old daughter 2004: i voted in the united order of masons building, which had absolutely nothing interesting to look at while i waited 2008: hooray! voting in the local mall! what could be better? 2004: chris and i cancelled each other out (as we have also done in 1996, 1998, 2000, 2002, and 2006) 2008: chris and i agree! will wonders never cease? it only took chris and me twelve years to find some common political ground. maybe there's hope for some congressional bi-partisanship yet.

voting irony

life, as they say, is full of ironies. one prime example would be my voting history. i can vividly remember discussing current politics in my ninth grade social studies class and our teacher pointing out that the next time election day arrived, we'd all be able to exercise our civic duty and vote. at the time, the mere thought was thrilling. we tittered at our desks excitedly, thinking of the distant future, when we'd be adults and full-fledged citizens and off doing far more important things than sitting in a trailer being taught social studies by the football coach. and then, of course, it hit me: i would actually be six weeks shy of being old enough to vote in the 1992 election. as with anything bad that happens to a teenager, it was all my parents' fault; i cursed them for making me skip a grade and thereby inserting me into a peer group in which i'd always be the youngest, and swore that i would never inflict such pain on a child of my own. i cried myself to sleep that night -- melodrama was my middle name -- but by the next morning, it was forgotten. our social studies class had moved on to discuss the upcoming friday night game and the makeup of the judicial system (in that order) and i never gave it another thought. by the time 1992 actually rolled around, i graduated from high school and, on a hot day in mid-august, drove the three hours up to virginia to begin my freshman year at the university of richmond. besides being consistently rated as the most beautiful college campus in the country [i can see chris rolling his eyes now, as i remind him yet again of this fact], UR had the national spotlight for a week that fall. on october 15, 70 million people tuned in to watch george bush sr., bill clinton, and ross perot battle it out in the very first town-hall format presidential debate ever, all from our own small (but beautiful, mind you) campus. so the irony of it is, of course, that in the midst of this monumental event, where the national media descended upon us, where we walked past famous news anchors with their microphones and cameras, where we witnessed three powerful men and their secret service agents and bodyguards and entourages walk mere yards away from us, where the entire student body was rife with interest and opinions and emotions that somehow ego-centric college student bodies believe are theirs alone (and nowhere more so than where such an event is taking place) ... well, the irony is that i couldn't vote. on election day, i happened to find myself in the registrar's office, begging for mercy so i could drop my physics-for-majors class. really, just because you're a math major does not mean you should be a physics major, and whoever thought that if you're good in math then you must also good in science had obviously never met me, and i was pretty much drowning: this was my argument. (i could go on, but suffice it to say my pleas fell on deaf ears, i stuck it out, and wound up with a C+, which was the lowest grade i ever received in college. truth be told, i think it had to do as much with my lack of scientific prowess as it did with the fact that it was an 8:15 a.m. class, including fridays, which shouldn't even be legal.) anyway, in the middle of this futile conversation the registrar woman glanced down at my records, paused, and then informed me that to the best of her knowledge, i was the only student at the university of richmond who was not old enough to vote. "isn't that ironic?" she chuckled, as she gestured toward a copy of the college newspaper with a picture of the three candidates on the front page. i walked back to my dorm that afternoon, dejected for being forced to remain in this awful class, and then even more dejected since i was the only person within a five-mile radius without an "i voted" oval sticker proudly displayed on my shirt. ever since then, i have voted. i went to excruciating lengths to vote two years later while living in spain, when there wasn't even a glamorous or exciting national election to follow. i mailed off my absentee ballot across the atlantic and wore my very first "i voted" sticker, which -- here's a last bit of irony -- hardly anyone around me could even translate. but i did all of this. there's just something about being told you cannot do something that really makes you want to do it. i hope i never forget that sense of frustration. minorities and women dealt with that frustration for far too long for me to take it lightly now. no, i'll never forget my right and my duty as an american citizen. come hell or high water, i will always be a voter.

out of sync

a few weeks ago, i informed the kids that it was their aunt leslie's birthday. they understood that they wouldn't be seeing her to help her celebrate, since she lives on another planet in california. the next best thing? serenading her in a VIDEO, of course.

in the time it took me to get out the camera, they were ready to roll. they had positioned themselves in their play kitchen, had located the toy ice cream and toy cupcakes, and liam had donned his apron (incidentally, a christmas gift from the birthday girl herself). they had taken care of every detail without any parental input -- down to the blowing out of the non-existent candles at the end of the song.

the only thing they forgot was any sense of unison.

infinity

liam loves to quantify things. if we pass a busy parking lot, he wants to know how many cars are parked there. when he notices a tree becoming bare during this fall season, he asks how many leaves it's already lost. he's curious about the same things most children are: how many stars are in the sky? how many waves are in the ocean? and, the age-old question that's been asked of parents for generations: how much do you love me? of course, you can't quantify love. but i felt compelled to try. i got out the magna-doodle and drew a sideways 8, and then attempted to explain what infinity means. as abstract as this concept is, even for adults, i'm starting to think that a little bit has sunk in with him. sadly, death is weighing heavily on my mind these days. a good friend of mine's father is in the final stages of pancreatic cancer. another friend of mine's teenage son committed suicide last thursday. whenever i feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes -- which is often -- i hug my children tighter. i'm reminded of what an amazingly miraculous gift life is, and how precious my family is to me. i find myself kissing their blond heads even more than normal and repeating several times a day, "you are the world to me. you are wonderful. you are amazing. i love you more than you can possibly know." liam looked up at me yesterday as i said this yet again to him, and replied, "i know, mommy. you love me infinity times infinity." he grinned. "you love me infinity squared." and i do.

buying in bulk

i love bargains. sad as it is to admit, the coupon section of the sunday paper is one of the highlights of my weekends. our family dinner menu plan is based on the advertised specials in the wednesday grocery circulars. and after almost a decade of marriage, my inner cheapskate self has even managed to convert my husband. he's always proud to show me his receipt after stopping by the store on the way home from work to pick up a few items, pointing out how much he saved with his frequent customer card. and let's face it, in this economy, it's foolish NOT to do all of the above. one of my favorite ways to save money is by belonging to a warehouse club. it's amazing how cheap certain things can get when you buy in large quantity. susanna and i made a trip there this week, searching for deals and ways to save. unfortunately, after we returned to the house with our wares, two glaring problems reared their ugly heads, both of the paper products variety. Paper Product Problem #1: in my euphoria that always comes from simply pushing that big red monster shopping cart, i forgot that we have downsized significantly from our last house. gone are the dozens of deep cabinets with tons of extra space. gone is the walk-in pantry with a few empty shelves. gone is the easily-accessible storage room. gone is our basement. of course, this all came flooding back to me as i shimmied through our front door, lugging about 52 rolls of paper towels. i stopped in the middle of the kitchen, searching for anywhere to store these gems, somehow expecting a magical solution to appear. nope. we now have at least one paper towel roll stuffed into every single nook and cranny of this house. there's even one crammed next to the DVR in our entertainment center. i suppose that the bright side is that no matter what kind of mishap or spill might occur, a paper towel is always within arm's reach -- a comforting thought with two preschoolers and new carpet. Paper Products Problem #2: imagine my elation to find that not only was toilet paper on sale, off of the already-low warehouse club price, BUT i had a coupon to boot! three-way savings! i was almost getting a high off this incredible deal ... until i got home with my 514 rolls (slight exaggeration) and put one of them on the dispenser in the bathroom. ugh. i have never seen such crappy -- excuse the language and the bad pun -- TP in all my life. it's thin and rough and one-ply and i swear it's worse than what you find in nasty gas station restrooms. i wiped liam's nose with some and he complained that it was hurting his face. of course, since i bought in bulk, we will quite literally be using this toilet paper for at least a year to come. with both of these Paper Products Problems, you'd think that i've learned my lesson. but as soon as we open that last paper towel roll, you can bet your bottom dollar i'll be back at the club, snatching up another load. and as uncomfortable and awful as it is, ain't no way i'm tossing out our toilet paper. i mean, come on. they are both such a great deal.

picking pumpkins

there's nothing quite like making a trip out to the renowned local farm in the fall. a chance to enjoy a hayride, feed some goats, ride a diesel engine train around the property, and, of course, pick that Perfect Pumpkin ... all while breathing the crisp, cool autumn air and staying warm in a thick jacket with a mug of hot apple cider.

or -- wait. not exactly. i mean, we did all those above things on sunday, and had a grand time. but it was 83 degrees. global warming? indian summer? whatever you call it ... it was just plain HOT. and it's really hard to get into the spirit of the season when it feels more like the fourth of july than halloween. when we get around to carving our jack o'lanterns, i think mine is going to have a bikini on.

don't judge a book by its cover. really.

as much as i love the library, taking the kids there has become quite repetitive. they make a beeline to the children's section and navigate their way to their favorite areas: liam, things with wheels; susanna, dora the explorer. i'm constantly urging them to explore new library territory, pointing out all the areas they're missing by being so myopic. but my encouragement always falls on deaf ears, as i watch our basket being loaded up with more volumes on bulldozers, racecars, and our favorite little hispanic girl on yet another wild and crazy adventure. our most recent visit was no different. although i had managed to sneak in a few new storybooks that i thought might interest them, their same-old-same-old selections outnumbered mine by a ratio of 10 to 1. but as we were walking to the checkout counter, two titles, side by side, caught my eye. i snatched them up, marveling in my good luck. as soon as liam saw them, he couldn't wait to show them to my parents. he knew that my mom (or "nana", to him) would be so excited to read nana upstairs & nana downstairs. and fred stays with me!, he realized, would be perfect for his "pops" (since he knows that my dad's name is fred.) what a great mother i was, to have come across these treasures! my mom read nana upstairs & nana downstairs to the kids later that day, and it was such a picture-perfect moment that i just wanted to grab my camera. there she was, flanked on either side by her two enraptured grandchildren, bringing this story to life as their little eyes soaked it all in. i was so impressed that i failed to actually listen. after she finished the last page and they scampered off, mom informed me that the story was all about two old women named nana ( one who lives upstairs and one who lives downstairs, fittingly) who kick the bucket.

wondering how we fared with the second selection? the "fred" in fred stays with me! is the loyal dog who accompanies a little girl, providing comfort and stability, as she bounces from house to house after her parents divorce. if i had just been a tad more observant, i would have realized that both books were directly under the "helping children cope with grief and loss" sign. i guess that on future library trips, it would actually help if i were to, well, read.

misery

susanna is sick. nothing earth-shattering -- just a runny nose, cough, and a fever -- but definitely enough to keep her home from preschool. and our children are never sick; the last time i had to get the thermometer out was well over a year ago. i had kind of forgotten what it's like to have a child who's not bouncing around and full of energy. so we're housebound, but unlike being housebound because of weather when we can make our own indoor fun, we're housebound and there's no fun to be had. she's just plain miserable, and i'm starting to believe that she's actually enjoying her misery. i'm sure i sound like the most insensitive mother on the planet when i say this, but i think she's already learned how to milk this for all it's worth. how else would she get to watch more than twenty minutes of television in a day, and a lollipop to boot? this morning she was camped out on the couch catching a new episode of sesame street while i attempted to scour and scrub the kitchen free of any lingering germs. from the family room i began to hear a pitiful, "woe is me, mommy" repeated over and over. obviously, i knew that my two-year old daughter was not employing the term "woe" correctly in a sentence -- but i did know that that's exactly the sentiment she was trying to convey. when i reached her, i realized that she was actually requesting, "ho-wuld me." i eagerly scooped her up, ready to wrap my arms around her snuggly little body and soothe her in her time of pain. but she suddenly decided that i was the LAST thing she wanted and insisted on watching the rest of the show alone. and isn't that the way most of us adults operate when we're sick? wanting everyone else to know how uncomfortable we are, but the second someone offers some real assistance, we resist? nothing is quite as pleasing to us as wallowing in our own misery. so i returned to my cleaning. woe is me.

pump it up

i remember seeing an article in a parenting magazine years ago all about how to teach a child to pump his legs on a swing. at the time, we were in the midst of trying to teach liam how to crawl, so i didn’t pay it much attention. turns out, i’m no worse off – someone very smart somewhere actually invented a swing that encourages the pumping motion. genius! while i had lots of things i wanted to buy for our new house – furniture, fabric, rugs, etc. – chris’s mission was singular: a playset. he wanted the kids to have someplace to go outside so they could enjoy their first real backyard. he worked for a long time in determining the perfect configuration and, with help from some friends (thanks, bill and darren!) and my dad, transported it and assembled it. best decision ever! the kids race back to that playset as soon as we park the car in the driveway. they love the treehouse, the ladder, the climbing wall, the slide ... but especially the swings. and this one funky looking swing – it’s kind of a long bench with handles – has been such a great way for liam to learn the pumping motion. he’s figuring it out with his arms: if he pulls towards himself, he goes up farther. pumping his legs on a normal swing will naturally follow.

the best part is, of course, that it's no longer necessary for me to stand there and push him higher and higher. which frees me up to sit in my lawn chair, eat my bon-bons, and enjoy the easy and relaxing high life of a stay-at-home mom.

lulla-BYE

i posted earlier how it has recently become a nightly ritual that susanna rocks in her glider immediately before she goes to sleep. if chris and i are both home -- which, thankfully, is usually the case -- we tend to divide and conquer. it's just worked out that i have been the one to put susanna to bed for the past week or so, and she and i have it down to a science. i turn out the light, she climbs into my lap, and we rock. she'll then request, "please sing my song, mommy," and i happily oblige. her song is, of course, "oh susanna". i sing the three verses softly to her and repeat the last chorus slowly one extra time. she knows exactly when it ends, for she immediately gets down from my lap as soon as i've finished and walks over to her bed, ready for sleep. it is such a perfect way to end our day. thursday evening i wasn't home for the first time since we had begun our rocking routine. when i got back, i asked chris how bedtime, and her song in particular, had gone. i love my husband dearly, don't get me wrong ... but i only ever hear him sing during the hymns on sunday morning, and let's just say that those are not the most holy of times during the church service. i tried to imagine his off-key warbling of "oh susanna" and found the idea to be rather comical. "did you sing to her?" i asked. he looked rather sheepish, and i thought he might have forgotten, or perhaps skipped it intentionally. "well, i tried," he responded. "but i got halfway through the second line of the song and she turned to look at me and said, 'daddy, please don't sing anymore.'"

going around in circles

my life is full of circular conversations. take this morning, for example. liam: "i spilled my yogurt on the table at breakfast." sara: "did you clean it up?" liam: "oh, yes. daddy and me cleaned it up." sara: "daddy and i cleaned it up." liam: "no, you didn't, mommy. daddy and me cleaned it up." sara: "i understand that. but the correct thing to say is, 'daddy and i cleaned it up.'" liam: "but that's silly! you weren't there." i think that before abbott & costello wrote their "who's on first?" routine, they must have consulted a preschooler.

strategy

we are a game playing family. we also are a fad game playing family -- meaning, we play whatever game liam has deemed the fad for the week, and we play it non-stop. at the height of the summer it was candyland. we then moved on to chutes & ladders. next up was cariboo (a fabulous preschool game, for anyone unfamiliar with this gem.) liam was kind of getting bored with all these, itching for a little more intellectual stimulation, so he found boggle and dragged that out. scrabble followed. those two are really his love, since he's crazy about reading everything and anything. it's fun to see him create words with the letters he has, often reaching over for an extra letter from an opponent to aid his cause. (we follow the game rules rather loosely.) recently, liam discovered uno -- you know, the fancy version of crazy 8's that of course now comes in a dora version, an elmo version, and even a hannah montana version. we are lucky enough to have the plain old 1980's original version, complete with my 5th grade handwriting on a few of the cards with my future married name of mrs. michael j. fox. anyway, uno is the current fad in our house; as soon as he finishes his breakfast, he's asking to play. his hands are not yet big enough to hold seven cards, so we always lay them out on the floor in front of us. visual access to his hand also allows me to keep track of what he has, so i can play a card of mine that will help him out. my ingenious plan was quite successful up until yesterday, when he wised up. i won't bore you with the details of uno round #17 of a rainy afternoon, but suffice it to say that i had two play options: one would cause him to draw two cards and lose a turn; the other gave him a surefire path to victory. because my inner competitive streak stays dormant when playing with my children, i went with the latter. but as soon as i placed down my sacrificial card, liam looked at me as if i were losing my mind. "mommy," he admonished, "that was silly. you should play the yellow Draw-Two!" i thanked him for his sage advice and then corrected my less-than-strategic move, but i began to wonder if my winning was going to backfire and result in a sore loser. however, true to his easy-going personality, he rolled with it. "great job, mommy!" he said. "high five!" and then ... "winner cleans up!" he yelled with a glance behind him, as he scampered off to the playroom. momma didn't raise no dummy.