PETA's future is secure (in case you were worried)

"Mom, you can't use paper plates," Chase says early this morning.

"Why not?"

"Because if you use up all the resources of the world, there won't be anything left. WE HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THE ENVIRONMENT!"

First, it's not even eight o'clock in the morning yet. Conservation and peace talks should never begin before eight. Secondly, I respect your position and have a truly GREAT [read mildly concerned] interest in preserving the environment. But can't we work on saving the world once I've had some breakfast? Can't I at the very least have had a diet coke before you start accusing me of destroying our planet? No, I actually can't. Because I know that once I have a diet coke, greedily consume its lifesaving contents, and throw the can in the trash - you will angrily open the trash and pull it out. I will then get a long lecture on recycling. Which will, no doubt, lead to your passionate plea for the preservation of animal habitats all over the world that are being destroyed. You've come to tears before when talking about this issue. REAL tears. And if by some small chance, I can get that can in the trash when you're not looking, you will dig through garbage to find it. I have reduced you to recycling BEHIND MY BACK. You are forced to sneak around when we're not looking and right our wrongs. I gotta love and respect you for that, kid.

"But Chase, these paper plates come from trees that have already fallen to the ground," I vainly attempt to say.

All right, stop looking at me like that. "How about this, I promise to recycle my diet coke cans if you will let me occasionally use paper plates. Deal?"

"Deal," he says.

And considering the large quantities of diet coke consumed daily in this household (not to mention the three or four I'll guzzle to get me through this morning), we ought to have preserved a few acres of rain forest.

Now go eat your pancakes.

fear factor

I was inspired by my fabulous MIL to write about five things that scare me:

1. Serial killers (and in particular, cannibalistic serial killers). I. AM. NOT. KIDDING. My fear of this began in college when I watched for the first time (and last) The Silence of the Lambs. That Hannibal Lechter scared the bejeebers out of me. I kid you not, I didn't sleep for two full nights after I saw that movie. Since then, I have been unable to watch movies or shows that involve any sort of serial killing. And yes, I know they're now making a "prequel." One movie I will not see, I can promise you that.

2. Heights. I hate being up high. My fear of heights includes ski lifts, bridges, roller coasters, and sky trams. I do not feel safe unless my feet are firmly planted on the ground. I mean, seriously, you honestly expect me to trust my life to a cable or rickety old roller coaster? No way, not this scardy cat.

3. Bobble head dolls. I've blogged about this one before, but I seriously am freaked out by them. That large free-floating head bobbing around, independent of the body. It's not right, I tell you.

4. Death. I truly am afraid of dying. I'm afraid of never being able to do all these things floating around in my head. I'm afraid of what something like that would do to my kids.

5. Snakes. I hate them - hate hate hate them. The slithery, scaly body twisting and writhing around...just gives me the willies. I think I've touched snakes like twice in my whole life, and it was enough. Nasty creatures. Bleach.

So tag, you're it...what're you afraid of?

lunch break

Here is what Hannah and I did today on our "lunch break," as she likes to call it:

And here is why:

I'm still not used to what they call "winter" around here. So used to wind chill, snow boots, gloves, and blizzards. If I had known there was a place this fantastic in February, I would have put us all in a truck and moved there long ago. However long this paradise lasts, I will NEVER, EVER take it for granted.

blink

Nine years ago today a very pregnant, very worn out wife went into the hospital with her husband, and came out with her family. Nine years ago today, our lives were forever changed. It was a cold, frigid Minnesota day that our little McKay was born. He weighed seven pounds, nine ounces, and was a gangly 21-inches long. He had little bits of peach fuzz for hair, that would fall out and not return fully for three-and-a-half years. He had long feet and tiny bird legs. His face was perfect with big blue eyes, and a darling pair of dimples. He never cried. We used to ask people if there was something wrong with our baby because he never cried.

This little thing (or alien, as Josh was fond of saying) rocked our world. We became THOSE kinds of people that talk of nothing but naps, diapers, breast milk, and bowel movements. We were newly unafraid of touching body fluids that were previously unimaginable. We saw the man in our house change diapers (and become REALLY GOOD at it, too). We learned to stop and take notice of simple things like a smile or a first step. We learned what it meant to really love and give of ourselves. We learned to be parents.

This little baby grew to a happy toddler, and is now a very happy boy. He still never cries, and always strives to please. He is athletic, smart, clever, and can tell a mean knock-knock joke. He was the beginning of what would become the family we know today. We can't imagine our life without him - and the others that would soon follow. How is it possible that he's now nine? How is it that I have stood still while time has gone on around me? Hug your babies tonight, memorize every tiny feature, and take a picture with your heart. Before you know it, they will be big boys that like to eavesdrop and get embarrassed of you in public. Don't blink - or you'll miss it. I've decided to tape my eyelids open, less I blink and this big boy is 19. Happy birthday, Mack!

P.S. I've almost forgiven him for being born a full week late. I said almost, as there are some things you never get over.

ugh, play dates

When I was a kid, a "playdate" didn't exit. You simply went outside, kids lived all around you, and you met in the center of the street to play in large herds. There was no scheduling, no parents transporting you, no background checks, and no sex offender lists. You went outside; you played. Today with my own kids - not so simple. We have not yet had the fortune of living on a street such as the one I grew up on. Schedules are consulted, mothers speak to mothers, calendars are compared, and if stars align - my kids get to play with kids that are not their siblings.

Okay. So here is my little rant for the day. We have a classmate of McKay's who is an only child. A very nice boy, to be sure, but victim of parents who decided to have children later in life - and only had one. Looking back on my own life, maybe an easier way to have done it, but not the choice I made. This particular child/mother combo calls us about twice a week just begging to get together.

I am not opposed to playdates in general, but there emerges a tricky balance when one is on the table. If one child gets to have a playdate, they all cry and scream for their own playdate. Suddenly, by ridding myself of one child, I am left with two resentful, unhappy ones. And bringing the playdate here does not always solve the problem. No, invariably three becomes a crowd and one of the brothers is left odd-man-out. It's a rare kid that can enjoy the dynamics of McKay and Chase equally (Sam W., you know I'm talking to you).

My kids play really well with each other. The boys will work violent sword fighting into any princess game so they can include Hannah. She will, in turn, happily mother her little soldiers and send them off to war. I sometimes resent this little world becoming unbalanced. I empathize with the poor mother of the only child - I'm sure he's bored to death and looking to expand his world with other friends. But we already have built-in friends. Why is it my job to make sure your kid is entertained? Mine are quite happy, thank you very much. And maybe if she called less often I'd be more willing to share my kids with her. I'm kind of selfish that way...

Of course, if someone is willing to take all three children...THEN BRING ON THE PLAYDATE, BABY. Otherwise, I believe this is why god invented caller I.D. (that, and to hide from the missionaries).

happy molehog day

Chase: Today is Molehog Day, you know.

What is Molehog Day?

Chase: It's where this molehog comes out of the ground to look for his shadow. If he sees it, then it means six more weeks of winter. If he doesn't, then it's automatically spring.

That sounds awesome. I hope he doesn't see his shadow then.

Chase: Me, too. Can we go see the Molehog?

No, it's in Pennsylvania.

Chase: Bummer. Since it's a holiday, do we have school today?

Yeah, sorry. They don't close school for Molehog Day.

Happy Molehog Day!