And then he kissed me......

Today Gibson and Landis were playing the "Kissing Game" in the backseat of the car. Yep. That's right. The Kissing Game. And I have to admit that when Gibson proposed that they play it, I was more than a little taken aback. (Gibson = Hey Landis...Wanna play the Kissing Game? Landis = Sure! Me = Wha.....?!?!)

I adjusted the rearview mirror so I could see them. "Just exactly how does this Kissing Game go?" I asked. "Like this!" replied Gibson. Then he proceeded to lean across the backseat as he puckered up his lips, made smooching sounds, and smacked Landis in the back of the head. Landis responded in kind.

I'm not entirely sure why they think that's kissing, but I swear they didn't learn that from Mike and me.

So all I can say is this: Those two are either going to have to really work on that kissing technique of theirs, or they're going to have to find themselves some really freaky girlfriends. Let's all pray for the former.......

"Bee-ing" Good.

Gibson brings home a "Bee-havior" report every day from kindergarten. It's a good system, really. Here's how it works: Each of the kids has a bee. If a student is "good", meaning he lives up to the classroom expectations, his bee stays in the hive with all the rest. However, if a student breaks a rule, his bee gets ousted from the protection of the hive. At that time, in order to bring home a smiley face in the Bee-havior report, the rowdy-rule-breaking student must try to win back his place in the hive by proving that he is, indeed, a hard worker and knows the classroom expectations. (I like to imagine that the little worker bee has to grovel to the Queen. He flies into the hive, escorted by the royal-guard-bees and pleads his case..... "Your majesty. I'm sorry for not doing my share of the pollinating and honey-producing..... I can do better, my Queen, if you'll just see fit to give me another chance........... I'll work hard. I promise. Please do not banish me to the net. Perhaps her majesty would like a few extra buckets of honey....?")

If the wayward bee can win back his favor with the Queen, then his previous mis-behavior is expunged from his record, and the little bee brings home a smiley-face in his "Bee-havior Report". However, if he is unable to win back his rightful place in the hive -- let's say, for instance, that he just can't quit talking to his neighboring bees -- then instead of a smiley-face, the number of the classroom rule our little bee has broken is written down in it's place. (Just for the record, Gibson brings home a lot of #2's. That means that he is not "bee-ing a hard worker" because the only thing he's actually working on is wagging his tongue. And, by the way, that roar of laughter you may have just heard is the collective cackling of each and every one of the teachers I ever had in my education career. I imagine that they are all in hysterics over the fact that I am already SO GETTING WHAT I DESERVE. Yes, I can hear you -- even all the way down here in Charlotte.......)

What, you may ask, happens to the little bee who not only can't win back the favor of the hive, but also continues to mis-behave? Well, those poor little bees end up in the "net". It's a sad and lonely place, that net. And if you find yourself wondering if our little bee has been to the net before, I'll tell you that yes, in fact, he has. But that's a story for another time. What I want to tell you about today are all the smiley-faces our little bee has been bringing home. His goal was 2 in a row. And we've gotten there. We've gotten there a couple of times. But last week...........whew-doggies!...........we had a good run on smiley faces. Our little bee had come home with his SEVENTH smiley-face IN A ROW!

"Gibson!" I said to my son, "You are doing amazingly well, and I am so proud of you! I'll tell you what...... If you are able to bring home 10 smiley-faces in a row, I'll take you to Chuck-E-Cheese." Well, if you've known a 6-year-old-boy in your lifetime, you'll know that I'd just promised him the Garden of Eden. So the next morning he left for school determined to get smiley-face number 8. And when he got off the bus in the afternoon, he ran to the house shouting "Mom! Mom!! I got ANOTHER smiley-face!! And you're going to laugh, because my teacher drew a funny smiley-face in pencil! Wait until you see it!" I was thrilled for him, because this, my friends, this was a huge accomplishment.

I dug around in his backpack and pulled out his "Bee-havior Book". And there it was. His pencil-smiley-face. And he was right.....it did make me laugh...........

In need of some distraction

Sunday was one of the most beautiful fall days I've seen here in Charlotte, so we took a drive out to Crowder's Mountain to do some hiking. And not only was it a perfect day for a hike, it was also a chance to see the leaves at their most colorful. So off we went. The hike is a couple of miles long and mostly uphill, but the boys were amazing, so we made it up the mountain in just shy of an hour. Crowder's Mountain is almost like a huge rock fin jutting up out of the ground, so when you get to the top, you can alternately hike and rock scramble to get from one side to the other. It's fairly wide in spots, but the edges are steep -- and in some places sheer cliffs hundreds of feet high. I'm pretty relaxed about what my kids do when we are outdoors, but in this one instance I thought I might have a stroke from my stress level. Luckily, Gibson made a suggestion that helped distract me and kept me out of panic mode. If you look closely in the reflection of my sunglasses, you can see what had me totally and completely on edge..........

Results

Wow!
Amazing. Incredible. Astonishing. Awesome. Marvelous. Unbelievable. Wonderful. Astounding. Fantastic.

Way to go America! I couldn't be more proud of you.

But California? Shame on you. Shame. On. You.

41 weeks pregnant

November 4th. Election day, 2008. And I feel like I felt when I was past my due date.

Have you ever been pregnant? Did you deliver on your due date? Or even early? If so, you can disregard this entire blog post because you'll have no earthly idea what I'm talking about. But if you've ever been pregnant AND continued to be so way past your due date, you'll know exactly what I'm getting at.

I was a full week "late" delivering each of my children. It would be an enormous understatement to say that it was exasperating. Especially with my first, because at that time I was naive enough to think the doctors knew what they were talking about when they assigned me that completely arbitrary date. So you can imagine that once my due date had come and gone with nary a movement in that stubborn uterus of mine, I spent every waking moment going "Now? Now? Now? How 'bout now? No? Maybe......NOW! Nope. Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Now? Ooooooooo! Ooooooooooo! Maybe Now! Hmmmmmm.... No. Now?"

And even though it was insane -- and I was fully aware that it was -- my anticipation was so great that it was impossible for me to wait patiently and let the process work. And let me tell you, that sort of anxious and antsy behavior makes for some LONG and torturous days. Not to mention a slightly annoyed husband.

Having weathered that emotionally and mentally painful week, not once but twice, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson. That perhaps I would be better about embracing the process. That I would be calm, composed, even easy-going as we await the results. But...ummmmm.......not so much.

So......... Do you think we'll know soon? Now? Maybe now? How 'bout now? No? Now? Now? Now? Now? Maybe now......

The Daily Blog

So my friend, Janice, whom I believe I've mentioned here before, has recently informed me that November is "National Blog Month". And perhaps this news is only exciting to those of us with our noses pressed up against our brightly lit screens, typing out the intimate details of our lives to share with our friends, our families, and any poor sap who happens to pass by. Or maybe it's not true at all, and it's all a big joke on me, but I'm excited nonetheless.

Now, to my understanding, in order to participate in National Blog Month, one most post something every day. I think this sounds like fun, but seeing that I'm already 3 days behind, I'd like to propose an informal "rule bending" of sorts. Let's say that I'll participate, but that I'll do so in my usual half-assed way. It will be a bit like the way I used to do my daily homework: Partially-done assignments turned in 4 days late......if ever. Turned in frequently enough and complete enough to ensure that I wouldn't fail, but certainly not frequently enough or complete enough to ensure me the "A" that I was capable of. (Which, as a quick aside, makes me think I should say it's truly a wonder that my educator/mother still has her hair. Really.) So, does this arrangement work for you? It does? That's fantastic, because I have to tell you, I'm great at half-assed.

So since I need to go ahead and post something to get credit for today, do you wanna' hear how long Landis sat on the toilet today crying about how nobody would wipe his butt? No? Not today? Are you sure? Because it was a REALLY long time....... Well, that's OK. I can save it. And besides, I'll see you here tomorrow.

Snapshot

At 4:03pm yesterday afternoon:

• I put Landis in the shower because he stunk. He stunk because apparently he had to fart and, SURPRISE!, he shit his pants.
• My sister-in-law called to see what I was up to.
• My dog was barking incessantly because I wouldn't let him in the house. I wouldn't let him in the house because he'd run away to go swimming in the pond down the street and was soaking wet. And because he was soaking wet, he stunk like smelly-wet-dog. And he was on his leash so he wouldn't run away again. And he was pissed about it and wanted me, and everyone else in the neighborhood to know it.
• Landis was calling me from the shower every two seconds so I could come and look to see if his butt was clean yet. It wasn't.
• Five random neighbor kids were running around in my front yard playing some sort of game that involved baseball bats.
• One neighbor girl was inside my house crying in an incredibly high pitched, ear-splitting voice about how scared she was. She was scared because she'd climbed the tree in the front yard, decided that she was up too high, and then was worried about getting down. Apparently she did get down, but then decided to come in the house and share the story of her terrifying ordeal.

I'm sure my sister-in-law thoroughly enjoyed our conversation -- at least the snippets of it that took place as I alternately checked Landis's butt for the 18th time, glanced out the front window and wondered if I should put a halt to the baseball-bat game, wondered how soon it would take the baseball-bat game to result in an injury, wondered if that injury would require stitches or an ER run, weighed the odds of the possible injury against the relief of having occupied kids, tried to reassure screeching, crying neighbor girl, and yelled out the back door to my smelly wet dog while I prayed that he would just shut up for two seconds so my neighbors without kids and/or dogs didn't feel compelled to call the police.

If I took a snapshot of your day yesterday afternoon, what would it look like?