That's Pretty Much Our Week

This week the Beehives learned beauty secrets. I only know this because I was asked to teach them the secret of inner beauty, (probably because I was always that girl with the nice personality. You know that girl.)

This week Zach taught himself his first song on the trombone by watching Youtube videos, so we've heard every (and I do mean every) rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. He also figured out that the trombone, when manipulated correctly, sounds an awful lot like f-a-r-t-i-n-g. He's been cracking himself up right and left.

Zach was also asked out on a date. Yes, by a girl. An eighth-grade girl. A stupid  eighth-grade girl, according to him. We've probably only got another year before he drops stupid as a modifier for girls and I'm clinging to every second of it. 

I'm also clinging to every second of the twins boyhood. I love love love that they still get a kick out of Gak and Goo and those retractable sticky hands.

Please don't let this feeling end . . . It might not come again . . . (Someone should write a song like that).

That's pretty much our week, plus a bit of extra emotion over 9/11.

(P.S. 15 years later self here: That kid on the left is Alohi Gilman. He became a professional football player for the San Diego Chargers.)

Isn't that My Job?

Zach has all A's on his report card, but have I created a monster? 

Zach comes home and instead of me pestering him about his homework he pesters me. 

Isn't that my job?

"Mom, set the timer I'm going to do my times tables." 

"Mom what does acquaintance mean?" 

"Mom, read these three pages of questions for me so I can review for my test. C'mom Mom, I'm ready! 

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Again mom." 

 But you have it memorized word for word. "Again mom!" But . . . 

(This is an unfinished draft I found in the post edit feed. I have no idea how I intended to finish it, but it's a pretty impressive reflection on Zach's conscientiousness, so I am publishing it as is. It made me think about when he was in middle school and I had to pick him up every day and rush him to Varsity basketball practice at the high school. He would call or text me a few times each day to remind me how important it was that I was on time.so he could be on time. Once I was late, and he had to run ladders until he threw up. It still makes me cringe to think that he had to pay for my mistake. He must have been so stressed all the time.)

The Saddest Thing in the History of the World

I documented the saddest thing in the history of the world (besides terrorism, poverty, world hunger, disease, war and the price of gas. Oh, and possibly hurricane Ike). 

These are the actual basketball rims at our elementary school. (It's more than just a shame, it's a crime, don't you think?)

T.G.I. (aloha) F.

You know you've finally lost your grasp on domestic order when you roll out of bed just in time to shout to your children from your bedroom window, Have a nice day at school!

Only half of that is true. I have lost my grasp on domestic order, but today I was actually up at 5 a.m., as usual, to get Tatum off to Seminary by 6 a.m. My friends think I'm lame because I help her curl or straighten her hair almost every morning. They don't say you're lame, of course, they say, Wow, I could never be such a good mom! which is code for, Get-a-life!

What they don't understand is the mystical power beauticians (and bar tenders) have over the human soul. The only time Tatum talks to me is when I'm doing her hair (or pouring her a drink). I look forward to the daily witching hour, between 5-6 a.m., to catch a peak into my daughter's head.

Around here our mornings are organized into 3 waves. Once Tatum is out the door, Zach pops up, eats, showers, watches ESPN with Alan for 45 minutes, then catches the bus by 7 a.m. Easy Breezy.

Then comes the final wave--the twins. There's no popping up involved in the twin's morning ritual. Garrett requires a piggy back to get down the stairs and Wyatt won't budge unless there's a spray bottle involved and everyone has cleared the room. They also require music to shake them up--mostly Wyatt, as he's only got one speed in the morning: catatonic.

So this morning was just like every other morning, except we made a few candy leis for the Super Citizen assembly. Garrett was voted Super Citizen of the month by his classmates (which, according to Wyatt, doesn't count).

After the assembly I dropped Alan off at work, came home, crawled back into bed and pulled the covers over my head.
 
That's not true either. It was tempting, but it's Friday, and Friday is my day. Before I pay the overdue utilites bill or wash my hair or wipe the spilled frosted flakes off the counter, I will sit down and write. 

First things first, after all! 

Terrorism 101: Physics for Dummies

Who likes drudging up painful memories?

So let's not drudge them up. Let's talk psychology or philosophy instead. Let's talk physics. How about Newton's third law? To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Cause and effect.

After 9-11 I cringed and ducked every time I saw a low flying plane, I fixated on taking photos of flags, and I bought flour and sugar by the truckload and sealed it up in mylar bags.

I went to candle-light vigils, tossed coins into fountains and prayers into the universe. I even started listening to country music.

Funny what you do when you don't know what to do.

Even Tatum, who was only six years old, went from drawing pictures like this