What a week!

It is a late night, and I feel so fortunate. This is my favorite time of year - I love fall. Football. Apples. Those little candy pumpkins. Getting to wear sweaters. Back to school.

When Tom Hanks talks about the smell of new pencils in 'You've Got Mail,' I can totally relate.

Allow me to share some of my joys:

We got a note from Junior's 5th grade teacher - she loves him, and he is doing exceptionally well, both academically and behaviorally. Considering the struggles we had last year, we are thrilled. My husband wants to copy the note, take it to the principal, and show her what a teacher that respects her students is capable of. I'm pretty sure she already knows.

Trey is reading at grade level, which is a miracle. He didn't talk forever, and then he was completely unintelligible. Now, most people can understand everything he says. He used to hate to read, until he found 'The Magic Treehouse.' We read a chapter a night, alternating pages. It's fun to snuggle with him and see his face light up when things get really interesting. And, man, does that kid love math! It is so fun to watch him do his homework. He and I have had some extra time together this week - he is so much fun, and has such a big heart.

Little Miss is a beautiful bundle of joy and energy - she is like a barrel of monkeys. Someone more apt to swear would call her hell on wheels. What do you expect from my daughter. I am madly in love with her beauty and brilliance. She regularly blows me away. She was a cyclone in gymnastics yesterday. I love being home with her. We are having so much fun together.

I am actually enjoying the cub scouts - which is good, because Trey turns 8 next week, and I'm pretty sure I'll get to be his den mother the whole time, just like I was for Junior. I should have had my kids closer together!

My husband and I are planning a trip to Cape Cod to enjoy the fall there. I've been to Boston (loved it!), but never the cape, and I can't wait.

There was a beautiful sunset tonight. We got to watch it as the soccer game was winding down.

Overall, life is great.
I am thankful for a wonderful family and good friends (real, cyber, and both).
I am grateful for a passion that I get to advocate for. Sometimes I am less than articulate, but I am learning new things and making a difference. And I am volunteering with some of the most amazing people I know.
I'm grateful that I started this blog. I was reading some of my previous posts recently, and your responses. It is fun to remember, and I am having so much fun!

Thanks!

Why I am not allowed to take Percoset

Here is the long awaited tale of woe.

Ten-and-a-half years ago, my Husband was in Law School. We were living in an expensive-but-nice basement apartment in Sugarhouse. We were also expecting our first child. Our friends were done with school, and had purchased a home. We had dibs on their inexpensive-but-nice apartment right off of Foothill Drive. We moved in two weeks before the baby was born.

Junior was a beautiful baby - he was chubby and rosey and loveable. For a while, I thought he had red hair - it turns out his head was just really red.

When he was a few days old, my family came to visit - it was also the first time they'd seen our new apartment. I was feeling well. My labor was pretty easy, and, except for a few stitches from an episiotomy, I wasn't that sore. (Attention TMI Police: If you are offended, I'm not that sorry. People have babies - it gets messy - get over it). My doctor had prescribed Percoset for the soreness.

My brother, Stuart, thought Junior was okay, but was really impressed by our new apartment. It had a big kitchen/dining room/living room with a mirrored wall. It was a walkout basement, and we had our own little backyard. And, it included a microwave oven. This wasn't just any microwave oven - it was ginormous - you could probably defrost a turkey in there. It must have been one of the first microwaves off of the assembly line. It was a classic. Stuart was amazed. "You could fit the baby in there!"


I replied, "Yes. I could. I will have to take this sleeper off first - it has metal buttons."

After that, it was decided that I should try ibuprofen to manage my discomfort, and that, in the best interest of all involved, the baby and I should be closely monitored for a while.

And THAT is why I am not allowed to take Percoset.

I got a bad disease...

Okay - it's not me. It's DaltonGirl. She's got Candyassitis. I told her I'd let you all know. Keep her in your prayers. Also, she's a little delirious - don't believe a word she says about The Weather Troll.

Travels with The Weather Troll

The Weather Troll went to a soccer game this week with his kids, The Weather Trollkins. This Weather Trollkin wanted to play soccer, but he forgot his shinguards. BTW, The Blue Strikers won 13-1, bouyed by great defensive play by my boy, Trey.

Introducing...

The Weather Troll.

I hope he helps you plan your day according to the current weather conditions.

In my opinion, he leaves that Weather Pixie in the dust.

Can you tell me where the little children are?

On her blog, Cicada talks about her kindness to a door to door salesmen, an ex-con who can't get a job and has to try and make a living by selling magazines door to door. I replied, mentioning an experience I had recently.

I had an educational-book-seller come to my door last week. He said he was from Ukraine (they don't call it THE Ukraine in the Ukraine). I guess his limited understanding of the English language explains why he ignored the beautiful homemade "no soliciting" sign. He apparently doesn't understand time, either, because he said it would only take two minutes, and it took twenty. I did not buy the books, but I listened to his whole speil. I can't say that listening makes me a good person, because after a few minutes, I kept picturing his head exploding. It's a good thing for him that I've lost my magic powers.

I was talking about this with my adorable neighbor and babysitter to my children, Lynsey, who started laughing uncontrollably. Then, my kids started saying (in a really bad accent) "Can you tell me where the little children are?" Here's...the rest of the story.

Cute/Crazy Julie lives a couple of streets away from me and Lynsey. About the same time the salesman came to my house, Julie was home alone. She had just had oral surgery or something, and was hopped up on goofballs (I mean she was taking the prescribed dose of Percoset). She heard a knock on her door, and assumed that it was her friend, coming to comfort her. It was none other than our Ukrainian book salesman. Julie answered the door, looking pretty stoned. After a minute, he asked her if she was home alone. She said yes (HELLO! STRANGER DANGER, ANYONE?). He then asked if there were any children at her home. She said no, that she was the youngest. Then he asked the infamous question. "Can you tell me where the little children are?" She pointed out the houses on the street where small children live, and went back to bed. Thankfully, he was just a Ukrainian bookseller (I don't mean he sells Ukrainian books. I mean he is a bookseller of Ukrainian descent) with a poor understanding of social mores. Also, Julie should never be allowed to answer the door again. And, finally, 'social mores' should be abbreviated s'mores.

And I am reminded of another fun story (that also involves veiled threats to innocent children): Why I Am Not Allowed to Take Percoset. That'll be my next post. Stay tuned.