uncertainty

"mommy, if i ask you something, i want you to be completely honest with me," liam said to me one morning over breakfast back in late november.  "you have to promise."

"what do you want to know?" i responded, using the tried-and-true parenting method of deflection so as to avoid making promises one cannot keep.

"okay," liam sighed, clasping his hands together and looking quite serious as his big blue eyes focused on mine.  "here's my question.  do you and daddy move gofster every night?"

i froze.

and then my mind went into panic mode.  gofster.  beloved family member since 2007.  son doubting.  an accusation.  must answer somehow.  must not lie.

i swallowed.  "gofster?  our elf the shelf?"  i stalled.  "why would you ask that?"

liam moved his clasped hands to point at what was below them: the target christmas catalog, turned to a page where the boxed edition of the elf the shelf was featured prominently above the price tag of $29.95.  "i mean, you can just go buy one at any store around here," he said.  "i just saw a whole table full of them at the bookstore last week.  so is gofster just something you bought, and you and daddy move him while susanna and i are sleeping?"

oh crud.  susanna.  my mind escalated its panic mode, as i whipped around to see if she was privy to our conversation.  i had been thrown into such a tizzy that for that moment i didn't even realize that she was in the next room, practicing piano, obviously oblivious.  whew.  unfortunately i turned back to find liam still sitting there, looking at me, expectant. 

must answer somehow.  must not lie.

"well, i think that gofster is part of the magic of christmas," i stammered in what i hoped to be a confident enough voice.  "i think there are so many magical parts of christmas, and it's fun to just believe in that magic."  and then, calling on that same tried-and-true method of deflection, i followed with, "are you ready for some more orange juice?"

liam dropped the subject, but my mind was reeling.  had we already arrived to this long-dreaded point, where that aforementioned magic starts to lose its luster?  did we really already have children old enough to start questioning?  a little part of me sort of wilted inside, unable -- or maybe just unwilling -- to accept the fact that our children aren't tiny little towheaded toddlers anymore.  they might actually stop believing unconditionally everything their parents have told them. 

after mulling it over with chris, we decided that we would wait for liam to bring it up again, and then perhaps have a long conversation about it -- which turned out to be the best decision we could have made, because it actually never came up again.  instead, the very first thing we heard on the morning of december 1st, after the racing thumps of footsteps down the stairs and back up again, was this scream of sheer elation:

"susanna!  mommy!  daddy!  I FOUND HIM!  GOFSTER IS HERE!"

and for the following 23 days, gofster was, once again, embraced as our long-lost fifth family member.  they've woken up early each morning to search for him; they've regaled everyone they see with tales of his antics.  they've accepted 2 dollar bills from him after he apparently intercepted the tooth fairy (they lost 3 teeth between them in 3 days), made his picture their screensaver on their iPods, and communicated with him via written notes.  (oh, the notes.  enough to fill a book.  that might just be a post for another day.)

i look back on that terrible conversation from november and cringe, sad to be reminded of the doubt that was creeping into my little boy's mind.  but for once, i'm grateful for my parenting uncertainty, for it turned out to be a blessing.  i could have had that honest discourse he was requesting, but if i had, i would have denied him another holiday season's worth of joy -- at least, the type of joy that is brought by a magical elf on the shelf that can be bought for $29.95.  i can now acknowledge that the reason i was so uncertain of how to handle it was because i wasn't yet ready to give the answer.

but i am certain about one thing now, in hindsight, and it's this:  he didn't really want to know it anyway.

the kids found him one morning with headphones to his tiny ears, jamming to the christmas station on pandora

speedy delivery

gofster arrived with his annual letters from santa this morning, a day after the kids chatted with the old guy at the club during the santa brunch.  he seemed to have a really accurate read on how the kids are doing -- the highlights of their year, as well as room for improvement opportunities for growth (gotta use the new catchphrase, of course!)

the kids said they didn't mind me sharing them, so here they are. i'm hoping you can click on each image to enlarge it; otherwise, this is sort of a wasted post.

(and a special thanks to my mom for all her work behind the scenes, if you know what i mean.)   

yes

this was my contribution to our church's advent devotional book this year.  (hence everything being capitalized, which will delight my father to no end.)

“I don’t want to do it,” I said, my five-year old blond head shaking emphatically.  “Tell them that I said ‘no thank you.’”

My mother had one hand covering the mouthpiece of our avocado green phone, while the other twirled the cord that was stretched from the kitchen wall.  “Are you sure?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.  I nodded.  “All right, then.”  She returned to her phone call.  “She says she would rather not play Mary.”  She went on to let them know that I would still participate in the St. Michael’s Christmas pageant, but would just prefer a smaller role.  

I remember this scene so vividly because it’s my earliest memory of what has turned into a lifetime of indecisiveness.  To this day, I struggle with most decisions; whether it’s something as small as what I’ve chosen to wear, to something as large as where I’ve chosen to live, I’m wracked with the tendency to second-guess myself.  That day in 1980, I turned my attention back to my toys after my mother hung up the phone, but already, uncertainty was creeping in.  Had I said no too quickly?  Could I take on this responsibility after all?  All afternoon and evening I pondered the opportunity from every angle, and by the next morning, I had had a change of heart.  Being Mary had turned into something exciting.  I thought I could do it after all.  And I would get to hold a baby doll and pretend like I was a mother.  I should have said yes in the first place.

At the breakfast table, I shared this exciting revelation with my mother while eating my Cheerios.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I think I will be Mary.”

“No, you won’t,” she replied.  “They’ve already given it to someone else.”  

And just like that, my dreams vanished.  In the following weeks, I participated in the rehearsals, silently watching Mary, wishing that it was I in the costume instead.  I beat myself up over my rash decision, wishing I could turn back time and give a different answer.  Why had I doubted myself?  Why hadn’t I said yes?

And then – opportunity came knocking once more.  The night before the pageant, our same avocado green phone rang.  My mother answered it, and then turned to me.  “It seems that Mary has come down with the chicken pox,” she informed me.  “They need someone to step in.  Will you do it?  Would you like to be Mary?”  

I had been given a second chance.  And this time, I was sure about my answer.   I felt that same sense of calm in my soul that I have only after praying for confirmation from God that my choice is indeed the right one.  I felt His blessing.  And on the big day, He was with me, giving me the confidence and peace that only He can provide.  Because I said yes.  

Thirty years later, at our same beloved Saint Michael’s, history repeated itself in a way.  I waited outside my daughter’s Sunday School classroom, and watched as a dozen or so kindergartners emerged through the doorway, bursting with excitement after receiving their assignments for the upcoming pageant.  “I’m a wise man!” one announced.  “I’m an angel!” said another.  

Our five-year old Susanna looked up at me with her signature serene smile.  And then, quietly enough that I had to bend down to hear her, she said, “I’m going to be Mary.”  

Our shy, reserved, attention-avoiding daughter had done what I couldn’t do three decades earlier.  She was asked, and she didn’t hesitate.  She didn’t doubt.  She said yes.

Weeks later, I watched our daughter at the pageant, dressed perhaps in the same veil and robe that I had worn when I was her size, and marveled at her.  There was no trace of the uncertainty that I had had in myself.  No sign of nerves or indecisiveness.  Our daughter – the same little girl who was so terrified on her first day of school three months prior that I had to pick her up early – was now confidently walking down that long aisle with hundreds of pairs of eyes focused on her.  Sitting in my pew, I was reminded of  what the Bible tells us: that God will equip us with everything good so that we may do His will.  God was with Susanna that morning.  Because she said yes.

A common question often surfaces during Advent among believers: what would you do if put in Mary’s shoes?  How would you respond?  Would you say yes? 

I know my answer, for I lived it.  I was asked, and I hesitated.  I lacked the faith to know that God would equip me with everything I needed.  But once I opened myself up to the opportunity, He found me.  Just as He found and equipped my daughter, and just as He found and equipped a poor teenage girl thousands of years ago. He will, we Christians believe, find all of us.  

All we have to do is say yes.

wordless wednesday

wordless wednesday used to be a weekly staple on this blog ... and now, i realize i haven't posted one in six months.  in choosing a few pictures to sum up our christmas season so far, i've also just realized that i have been terribly remiss in introducing the blog world to our newest family addition!  a longer entry focusing on our adorable new pooch Wonder Wo is surely forthcoming.

until then, marvel at her cuteness ... and our kids' cuteness as well.  it's by far our most favorite time of year around these parts, in case you couldn't tell.

this is their first real tree -- EVER.  the last one chris and i had was in 2000, when our new puppy spider decided she was thirsty, went to drink some of the water in the tree stand, and promptly knocked over the whole thing.  so what better time to get another real tree than a month or so after getting a new dog?!  (so far, so good ...)

they both remembered that it was susanna's year to place the angel on top -- which was a good thing, since neither chris nor i had any idea

meeting santa -- or, as they recognize now, one of santa's helpers -- at a friend's party.  when asked for their #1 wish, susanna said an american girl look-like-me doll (which has NEVER BEEN ON ANY LIST WE'VE SEEN.  AND THERE HAVE BEEN MANY LISTS.)  and then liam's request was for a new pair of shoes, making him sound like he's this destitute child from a third-world country walking around without any footwear

my parents requested a picture of wonder for their holiday letter, but every time i tried to get the three kids together in front of the tree, wonder would immediately roll on her back for a belly rub.  my solution: ask liam to hold her up a bit.  not exactly what i had in mind

 

contrary to years past, i spent only a half-second choosing the picture for our 2013 card.  the irony: the last wordless wednesday post, which was a half-year ago on june 12, included this picture, taken at susanna's first communion

seeing red

motherhood.  it's not for the faint of heart.

we had just sat down for our sunday supper -- homemade white chicken chili and cornbread since it had only reached 33 degrees today -- when liam clutched his stomach.  "i don't feel right," he said.  i suggested he go upstairs and rest for a bit.  "i'll be sure to get the trash can from the bathroom," he said as he left, but i doubted he would need it.  i mean, how often do children complain about upset tummies and then a few minutes later they're fine?  all the time, right?

well, not all the time.  sometimes it turns into something more.  which i realized, as soon as i heard the scream.  "I'M THROWING UP, MOMMY!"

i dropped my spoon and sprinted upstairs, with chris on my heels.  we rounded the corner at the top of the stairwell to find liam standing, dazed, in the hallway, still vomiting.  i ran to him, almost engulfing him as i yanked him toward the bathroom, my shirt immediately soaked.

i will spare you the details, but just know that this continued, off and on, for three straight hours.*  just when we thought that SURELY he was done, that there was nothing left in his poor sick body, we'd hit yet another round.

the first chance i got to extract myself from the bathroom (and change my shirt), i assessed the damage.  it was like nothing i had ever seen before.  no surface was left untouched -- sheets, pillow, blanket, comforter, sham, bedframe, carpet, walls, hallway, sink, toilet, bathroom floor, bathtub.  if there were an olympic competition in retroperistalsis (confused?  this is one of the many things we've learned so far in 3rd grade science while studying the muscular system ... look here if interested), liam would surely be a gold medalist.

but wait -- as they say in infomericals -- there's more!  because not only was the majority of our upstairs now covered with vomit ... but it was BRIGHT RED vomit.  honestly -- and i'm not stretching the truth here even a little bit -- it looked like a crime scene.

this is probably about 5% of the total ... the other pictures would have totally grossed you out

my eyes widened as i took it all in.  a bright red bodily function normally means only one thing.  but before i got too far into my freaking-out mode, chris looked up from where he was scrubbing the carpet.  "it's not blood," he sighed.  "it's a red doughnut.  he had a freakin' red doughnut at Y Guides this afternoon."

it's still too early to call it, but i predict liam will be back to normal tomorrow.  he'll be staying home with me on another 33-degree day, finishing up his school project and undoubtedly ravenous since he completely emptied his stomach tonight.

but i guarantee you this: he won't be eating anything red.

our sweet firstborn, spending the night on the bathroom floor ... 
just in case

* edited on monday: make that seven hours, off and on, culminating in a totally soiled sleeping bag at 3 a.m.  "spot clean only" the label says.  i would have to laugh if it weren't so sad.

** edited on saturday: liam was kind enough to share the love.  i came down with it on wednesday morning, and spend 36 straight hours either vomiting or sleeping.  three words: worst. thanksgiving. ever.

halloween on the cheap

i make no bones about it: halloween ain't my bag.  the only thing i find remotely redeeming about the holiday (if you can even call it a holiday?) is the subsequent supply of free chocolate that's conveniently located in our breakfast room -- a mere 18 steps from my office.  it doesn't hurt that the candy and i are home alone all day while the rest of my family have vacated the premises.  i'm shocked i don't go into some sort of candy-induced coma from my sugar intake in early november.

but other than that, i typically find nothing at all to celebrate about all hallow's eve.  until this year.  turns out that halloween ranks up as the cheapest holiday (if you can even call it a holiday) of the year for the mann fam.

total spent on 2013 halloween costumes: zilch. 

in typical liam fashion, my eldest informed me he wanted to dress, yet again, as an athlete.  the boy doesn't stretch too far; in the past 5 years, he's been a soccer player twice and now a baseball player twice.  (his last foray as a dodger was in 2008 -- click here for a trip down memory lane if you're interested.)  we already owned every bit of his costume, all the way down to the way-too-short-but-i'm-glad-i've-kept-it polyester gray pants.

and susanna decided weeks ago that she was going to be a pop star.  we went round and round about this, since she and i apparently have vastly different ideas of exactly what a pop star wears; but in the end, practicality won out and she wore an outfit she already owned for school.  (to spice things up, we located some sparkly sunglasses and a pink feather boa from her dress-up supply.  add those accessories to some bright pink lipstick and hairspray, and a pop star was born.)

i really need to stop bashing halloween.  given the fact that we had not one trick-or-treater this year, i'm actually coming out way ahead financially.

suh-weet.

the pop star and the baseball player, striking a pose

liam required face paint (i have no idea if there's an actual term for this) in his quest to be as authentic a baseball player as possible.  "i know!" susanna exclaimed, her eyes bright with an idea.  "i've got dark eye shadow in that make-up kit i got for christmas last year that you never let me use!"  i knew there was a reason i hadn't tossed it

 i didn't mind her organizing her candy ... it was only once she started counting it that i started to worry.  i'm afraid my cover might be blown

she's a poet, and she knows it

i heaved susanna's Wednesday Folder out of her backpack, bracing myself for its contents.  i'm not exagerrating when i say that it can often take upwards of a half-hour to go through all the papers that are crammed in that thing.  not only are there important school communication items (fundraiser information, the weekly newsletter, scholastic book order forms, etc.) but also included are every paper she's written on in the last five school days.  and while most of it requires only a passing glance before heading straight into the recycling bin, there are always a few that i enjoy spending time going over, with her nestled next to me on the couch, pointing out every aspect of the assignment and answering my plethora of questions.  "how did you come up with such an interesting topic?" "did you figure out how to solve the problem all on your own?" "who was your partner on this one?"  and so on.

and every so often, on an exceptional wednesday, my eyes will land on something that i instantly know i want to keep in the "susanna - school" folder in my filing cabinet.  below is one such piece.  her only instruction was to write a cinquain poem.  it could have been about anyone, or anything.  she chose to write it about -- well, i'll let you take a look.

[i'm always worried that images won't show up clearly, so here's what it says just in case you can't read it:  Brother ~ Handsome, Strong ~ Playing, Reading, Eating ~ I love him lots ~ Liam]

i mean, really?  do all seven year-olds adore their older siblings in this way? no matter how much chris and i might be screwing up this parenting gig in every other area, at least in this regard, we've done something right.

91 degrees

nothing says pumpkin patch weather like a saturday afternoon with a high of 91 degrees.

yet, we went, since a few months ago we'd committed to the outing that SAS had arranged for its employees and families.  who in their right mind would have ever anticipated an october day that was hotter than most of the summer was?  (apparently not the pumpkin patch owners, who had quite an elaborate hot cider tent set up that wasn't doing much business.)

truth be told, chris and i were sort of dreading it.  we had just sat through an hour-long soccer game in the blazing sun with sweat running down our backs, and the idea of eating a picnic lunch on some dirty wooden table way out in durham before traipsing through a wilted corn maze was understandably not high up on our bucket list.  but that's when our children will snap us out of our funk -- just when we've convinced ourselves that something is going to be terrible, they get those smiles on their faces and those sparkles in their eyes and you realize how blessed you are to have kids at this age where such outings are cool and exciting.

well, maybe not cool.  did i mention it was 91 degrees?

stopping for a breather in the middle of a hot and dusty corn maze

just kidding around (pun intended)

the kids beelined it to the "exotic and weird" pumpkin area -- hence our dark green (almost black) and bumpy one

farewell, super

a good friend of mine saw the tears in my eyes a few weeks ago as i mentioned the looming necessity of saying goodbye to super.  "you know," she said, "when we did it a few years ago, i swear it was the most grown-up thing i've ever had to do.  more than buying a house or a car or even having a baby.  having to decide the when and the how of something so monumental as ending a life -- and then doing it -- really rocked me to my core."

yes.  just, yes.

we finally said goodbye to our beloved super last friday morning. she joined us in asheville almost seven years ago, on susanna's six-month birthday, and was a huge part of our family ever since. we waited much longer than we should have to say goodbye (funny how i can't bring myself to use any other phrase), but we just couldn't take that final step.  with every trek up or down the stairs with her 55-pound body in my arms, i would hold her just a little tighter, soaking up her warmth and feeling her heart beat through her fur, knowing that i wouldn't have the luxury of doing so for much longer. 

i went back through my archives and found an email i sent the blue ridge boxer rescue group shortly after adopting her, giving them an update on her transition into our family.  it brought such a smile to my face that i had to share it here. 

yesterday marked one month since we've had super here with us.  we cannot believe it's only been a month!  it feels like she's been a part of our family for forever.  she is just such the perfect pet for us.  she's playful, loving, happy, protective, wonderful with the kids -- we couldn't ask for more.

she has some funny quirks ... for some reason, she LOVES to retrieve one shoe from a pair in our closet, walk around with it, and then drop it in some random spot in the house.  every evening before we go to bed, we have to canvass the main floor, retrieving lost shoes to reunite with their partners.  she doesn't chew on them or play with them; she just likes the shoes to be separated from each other, i guess.

also, wherever we are, she HAS to be in the midst of the action.  if i'm lying on the floor with liam (our two year-old), playing with cars or blocks, before i know it, super has wedged herself between us.  if i come upstairs in the middle of the night to feed our baby, within a minute, super has awoken from her sleep and followed me up, just to make sure everything is okay.

oh -- and my favorite -- she doesn't just wag her tail.  she shakes her whole butt!  what a cute and welcome sight each time we come home.  we always had to put our old dog in the crate or laundry room when we were gone, since she wreaked havoc in the kitchen and near trash cans if we weren't around.  super just hangs out and causes no problems, so we let her have free reign of the house.  so, as soon as we walk in from the garage, she's there to greet us, shaking her little behind as happy as can be.

thank you, and to everyone with BRBR, for all that you do.  you saved super's life.  what a gift! 

2-year old liam, bending down to give super a kiss

tiny susanna couldn't even sit up yet, but she loved to be near her pooch

farewell, our sweet supe-doop.  we love you infinity times infinity.

hiatus

tonight i logged in here for the first time since august 28.  i hadn't realized i'd taken a month-long hiatus, but i guess i have.  i've felt pangs of guilt from time to time when liam or susanna have brought up a story they read in one of the old blog books, as it's hit me smack in the face that i've been neglecting this outlet that i've loved for so long.  because not only have i not been posting here, but i'm also woefully behind in printing the 2012 blog book.  i think i'm up to mid-june at this point (you'd be surprised at how long it takes to alter layouts and upload pictures -- especially when you have no system for organizing your 1,500 digital photos that you've taken on your iphone in the past year) and and i'm honestly not sure i'm going to finish 2012 before the real-life 2013 ends. 

all of this, sadly, closely parallels the rest of my life.  i am barely treading water at this point.  work is crazy.  liam's new school is crazy.  my volunteer commitments are crazy.  tennis is crazy.  i recently discovered the timer feature in my car which keeps track of the time i'm driving, cumulatively from one trip to the next.  after i saw in one week the amount of time i spend in my SUV, i can say that driving is crazy.

and on top of all of this craziness that is just our life in general, we are dealing with this:

and that's the craziest thing of all.  how do we decide when it's time to let super go?  do we wait until she's having accidents on a daily basis?  until we physically cannot continue to carry her 55-pound body up and down the stairs?  until the kids are ready to say goodbye?  if that's the case, i don't know that we'll ever make that fateful trip to the vet.  liam's a wreck, pleading with us on a daily basis to wait just a little bit longer, while he dissolves into tears.  and if i'm honest, i'm not quite ready to be in this house day-in and day-out without my little brown sidekick.  so i give into liam easily, unable to take that final step.

maybe it's a good thing i've been away from here for a while.  september hasn't been sunshine and rainbows, friends.  but october is right around the corner, bringing with it, i hope, brighter days, even if they're shorter.  until then, i'll leave you with this image of our three children, enjoying a fun weekend afternoon -- ironically, surrounded by chalk sunshine and rainbows. 

which is a perfect reminder that amidst the craziness, there's beauty all around us, if we just open our eyes to see it.

the mighty fine nine

liam is now nine.  he celebrated the last single-digit birthday he'll ever have on the 14th, and it's taken me this long to process it.  i've wondered how i should describe him in my annual birthday post, and while pondering, took a look back at what i've written in the past.  (his eighth birthday is here.  his seventh, here.  his sixth, here.  his fifth, here.  his fourth, here -- which is my favorite, because it includes a video of that sweet, chubby-cheeked little boy of ours blowing out his candles.)

and what i realized, after reading and remembering, is that he really hasn't changed that much in the last year.  those first few years of life move at lightning speed, with every day bringing new accomplishments and developments and achievements.  but from eight to nine, i think he's just been refining.  improving more in the areas of his interest (sports and math and reading) and learning to tolerate better those that are not (art and tying of shoes and eating vegetables.)  to be honest, aside from the move to his new school, what i wrote a year ago still, for the most part, applies today.  so what was i to really say?  and then, a brief event happened just yesterday between him and me and i immediately thought, you know, all i have to do is share this story.  it just summed him up perfectly, in a two-minute timeframe.

he and i had gotten home after school and he was eager to show me several of his pieces of work he had brought home.  (among my favorite: a worksheet about being perfect, as part of a lesson in language arts about how everyone makes mistakes.  one of the last questions was, "do you know anyone who is perfect?  if so, what makes them perfect?"  and his answer: "Jesus.  because He is the only person who has never sinned.")

after we went through his paperwork, i realized it was time to walk to the bus stop to pick up susanna.  "wait!" he said.  "i think i'll get a clipboard and bring some of my math homework to work on, since we don't know exactly when she'll be getting there."  after he had also grabbed a pencil, we started walking up the cul-de-sac.

and then, out of the blue, he says, "i'm so glad you're my mommy." i smiled, touched at the spontaneity of his statement.  "and i'm REALLY glad you met daddy.  because i think you both are awesome ... "he paused, laughing.  "and because if you hadn't met, well, there wouldn't be me!" 

and what a different world that would be -- a world without our sweet son, who is so well described by this story, in a myriad of sort of random ways that all tie together to make him, well, him.  he's thoughtful, and loving, and kind.  he loves and knows God and Jesus.   he's responsible and hard-working and smart.  and he's funny and goofy too.

he's our liam, and we are so proud to call him ours.  he's divine ... and he's nine!

running out of room for the candles -- but at least i had the correct number this time (see his fourth birthday post)

the plan had been to take his four best friends (most of whom he's known for half his life) to the carolina railhawks (professional soccer) game ... but it was a wash-out.  we switched gears and went bowling instead.  five boys is really the perfect number

always the serious athlete, when we took him to adventure landing, he actually brought his golf glove to play putt-putt

after losing in a go-kart race to susanna and me, the boys were still all smiles. (this is why i love being the blogger in the family -- chris would like to think they won, but he ain't the one at the computer)

crazy how full-circle life can be ... on his first birthday, we served dirt cake with gummy worms at his party.  and now, eight years later, we took him to celebrate at a local restaurant -- and their birthday dessert was none other than dirt cake

wondrous weekend #6: DC

for my final installment of the wondrous weekend series (which, let's face it, has amounted to almost all of the summer blog entries -- when a weary girl goes on summer vacation, it's not just from working), i bring you our photos from a quick trip up to DC.  from over a month ago.

ever since their successful trip last year down to atlanta to see their beloved dodgers play the braves, the mann men (chris, chris's dad, and liam) have been chomping at the bit to do it again.  so this summer's plan was a boys' trip up to see them square off against the nationals.  the tickets were purchased, the hotel was booked ... and then, one day prior to departure, chris's dad found out he had to stay home for a funeral.

and while we were all super sad that granddad couldn't make the trip, this opened the door for two certain girls to get in on the fun.  packing took susanna and me all of a minute -- because what else would we need besides toothbrushes and a few american girl dolls as companions?

with baseball being the all-day affair that it is (don't get me started), we really only had time to do one tourist attraction.  we chose the newseum -- and i daresay it's the best museum we have ever taken the kids to.  this was taken on their deck right after we looked at a huge chunk of the berlin wall

there were so many hands-on activities for the kids to try.  here's one of our children looking like a normal person, and our other child hamming it up for the entire fourth floor to see on the gigantic screen

at the "be a newscaster!" exhibit, liam had a plethora of background and subject options.  we were shocked he chose to be a sportscaster at a baseball game

dining in style with caroline and kit at the american girl place 

hanging out with a lifesize version of the girl of the year, saige.  (who names these dolls?!)  susanna actually began compiling her christmas list after we got home (!) and has requested the $150 hot air balloon from santa.  somehow i can hear him chuckling all the way from the north pole

hanging with the enemy -- chris's fraternity brother and groomsman, bill, who has season tickets to the nationals and scored their seats.  as someone with extensive baseball experience, i can say with authority that the dodgers' jersey is so much more attractive.  (sorry, bill.)  and really, isn't that the most important thing?

two elated fans as the dodgers secured another victory -- a 3-1 win in the 10th inning.  just add one more W to the longest road-game winning streak that baseball has seen in like a hundred years. (note: i guarantee you something in this statement is wrong, and will surely be corrected by liam when he sees this)

the MVP of RPS

for their last big hoorah of the summer, both kids are attending an all-day local camp called camp new life.  they arrive at 8:45 in the morning and leave at 5:00, and in the hours in between, they go fishing, play miniature golf, make leather crafts, do archery, swim, play games, and do a bunch of other things that leave them absolutely exhausted and sort of comatose on the ride home.  on the days i've driven our carpool for pick-up, all four of the children sit in the back seats and mumble two-word responses as their eyelids get heavy.  so it's not often until dinnertime, when they have a bit of extra nourishment in their bellies, that they perk up and regale us of stories from their long day.

yesterday, liam was the one who excitedly shared what had happened to susanna at lunch.  apparently while the entire camp eats, one member of each of the eight cabins is selected to participate in a huge rock-paper-scissors contest.  each representative casts their move against another cabin's representative in a sort of smallish version of the NCAA basketball tournament, "RPS'ing" (that's their shorthand name for rock-paper-scissors) until they arrive at one overall winner of the day.

yesterday was susanna's day.  our reserved, quiet chickadee got up in front of several hundred people (reluctantly, apparently, but she did it nonetheless) and, one by one, decimated her opposition.  she took no prisoners; she didn't apologize for her prowess.  she just defeated 'em all.  liam was so excited for her that he jumped up from his table and ran to the front to give her a hug and a kiss.  probably not the reaction desired by someone who shuns the spotlight, but hey, if she's going to be this talented, she's gonna have to learn how to deal with the fame.

i loved the story, and just chalked it up to susanna having a little bit of luck on her side.  chris, on the other hand, delved deeper.  "so, what was your strategy?" he asked.  "you must have had a way of choosing what to do each time.  how did you outwit all of your competition?"

surprisingly, susanna had an answer.  "well, i had been watching it for the past couple days, and kept noticing how boys almost always choose 'rock'.  so whenever i was against a boy, i knew i should go with 'paper'."  she grinned.  "it worked every time."

chris laughed out loud.  "this is crazy!"  he said.  "i swear this exact same thing played once on 'the simpsons'!"  and sure enough, within a minute he had located the exact clip on youtube.

i'm not really quite sure what to think about all of this.  as someone who has never seen an episode, i'm impressed as to how true-to-life this animated show turns out to be.  i'm also impressed that susanna's powers of observation confirmed something that apparently is quite accurate.  but mostly, i'm impressed that my husband could dig deep into the vaults of his memory and recall a 19-second segment of a show that aired in -- get this -- april of 1993.  that's more than twenty years, people!

i guess that the next time i really need to get deep into the mind of my seven- and eight-year olds, i need look no further than a funny-looking fox cartoon.  enjoy ...

wondrous weekend #5: lake gaston

you'd think that summer, without any kind of professional work , would give me time aplenty to keep this blog updated.  but i honestly think i have less free time than i do during the school year.  most evenings i'm falling into bed in a tired heap, after driving my charges all over tarnation, playing tennis, swimming at the pool, managing playdates, etc.  i love our carefree, fun-filled days of summer ... but had sort of forgotten how exhausting they can be.

so here are pictures from our trip to lake gaston from two weeks ago.  we got an invitation to join good friends at their lake house -- and what a treat!  the kids had never been to a lake house before, or boated like lake people do.  it was an absolutely phenomenal day, from start to finish.

liam and his BFF preston

kid-sized kayaks!  super fun.  must look into for the beach ...

the little sisters, campbell and susanna

for a summary of how liam felt about the day, one needs to look no further than the sheer exhilaration on his face in this photo

don't let this picture fool you.  susanna was TERRIFIED when we first started on the tube -- clutching the handles in a death grip, crying, screaming at me that she wanted nothing to do with it.  and then, a minute later, she turned to me and said it was the most fun thing she'd ever done in her life.  she proceeded to go back out two more times.  rest assured i will tuck this experience in my back pocket, so when the next time occurs that she's reticent to try something new, i'll only need to say, "remember tubing at lake gaston?"

kneeboarding was a surprising hit for liam.  it only took him a few tries before figuring out how to get up (and stay up)

and a good time was had by all

wondrous weekend #4: topsail

we spent the entire week of the 4th down at our beloved topsail.  i went down for a few days by myself with the kids (and was thrilled to live through two solid days of downpours) before chris drove down on tuesday. and then on wednesday, the basses joined us.  bill, lainey, web, and marshall were a welcome addition ... if left to our own devices, we manns would have just down the same ol', same ol', boogey-boarding in the ocean and beachcombing.  leave it to the basses to drum up all sorts of new activities -- only a few of which are highlighted below.

 why yes, there was a holiday to celebrate

 awaiting the famous july 3rd fireworks (and contrary to the image, i do actually have two legs)

 we had fireworks of our very own as well

we did do some of the normal things, like riding the waves ...

... and kayaking (notice the chivalrous web taking susanna out for a spin)

 ... and putt putt

... and even paddleboarding (which isn't exactly a typical pastime of ours, but since we rented one last year, we sort of feel like experts at this point)

but then we added some new activities into our mix, like wading in the water at the boat slip and collecting teeny tiny fishies in buckets and then pouring them into yogurt containers to take care of for a few days.  susanna is here feeding bread to her fish, named "cheerly" (your guess is as good as mine)

the boys also tried catching stuff by casting a net, but that didn't work so well.  so they adopted an alternate method.  the steps are as follows:  

1.  hook chicken gizzards onto a string that's tied to a wooden handle, and drop it into the water

2. watch in awe as a crab almost immediately latches onto that delectable chicken meat, and then scoop up that unlucky crab in a net

3.  drop it into a bucket to await its fate with other unlucky fellows (we stopped at six or seven, i think)

4.  steam 'em up and then spend an hour picking maybe a cup's worth of crabmeat.  (we wound up making delicious crab and brie stuffed mushrooms as that evening's appetizer.  what they say is true -- it tastes even more amazing if you've caught it yourself)

while the crabs and fishies were unlucky, another member of the animal kingdom was enjoying a little luxury.  super, whose back legs are so bad now that there was no way she could navigate the hardwood stairs, enjoyed riding on our outdoor elevator like the queen that she is.  vacation is not just for people, you know