Sweet Circus Sisters

Me:  Do you want to go to the circus with your class on Saturday?


MC:  I want to go with you and Dad and my sister.  I have already spent like 100 days with those kids.



This actually melted me, that she wanted to share this experience with her sister considering, these days, they seem to have taken the art of fighting to new heights.  Both of them are becoming pros at getting under each other's skin.  Once the arguing starts, we send them up to their shared room to spend time together, (no computer, no TV, just old school boredom) where they can either pout for an afternoon, or decide to swallow their pride and play as "sweet sisters." 


This has actually evolved into a saying at our house and is displayed in their room in French (just to keep with the Paris theme).  The reasoning is that relationships take work and sounds like your relationship with your sister needs repairing, right now.  Hopefully, this does not backfire where they wind up living on opposite sides of the country someday.


The Shriner's circus was really putting a damper on Jonathan's YOS (year of savings) plan with their $15 adult tickets, $10 camel rides, and $6 light-up toys.  But, what kind of parents are we if we don't let our poor girls (who already have to share a room AND spend time together) enjoy the full circus experience?    


The funny thing to me was how at the very beginning of the show, the littlest things seem amazing.  Like the dancers who can switch outfits instantaneously.  However, after about 15 minutes of amazing things (like people spinning high in the air, hanging on by nothing other than the ribbon in their teeth), it seems MC was more interested in working us for candy or swinging on the rail in front of her as we took turns asking her if she saw the dancing elephants or the flying poeple.     
       

ME:  Would you want to join the circus when you grown up?



MC:   Yes.  I want to swing from the bar, do a flip, and if I fall, there is a net.  I would also teach the elephants to hold their paws up.

King Arthur's Quest

What are the odds that both girls would make the cut for King Arthur's Quest, the acting troupe that comes to town once a year?  They throw all 200 kids up on stage and make them say silly things for a couple of hours and then announce whose in and whose out.  If you are in, you get to practice all week and then do two shows on Friday and one on Saturday. 

Madi had already been in The Princess and the Pea and The Pied Piper and thought it was the thing to do.  Well, she thought it was the thing to do at 3:30 when one of her scheduling-gifted friends informed her that auditions were right after school. 

So, we are racing to the Community Center wondering if MC is too young to try out.  She decided she might as well try out too and told me she would just say she was six if the cut-off was five.(?)  I did not have much time to explain things to her, or give her any good advice (I would be a terrible stage mother) and our conversation ended with her saying, "If they don't like my acting, I know I am going to cry."  

On that note, I decided I would need Jonathan for back-up, especially if this thing goes south, like if one daughter makes it and the other doesn't.  The moment of truth had arrived and MC was actually the first name called.  She would be a "mini" and we had no idea what that meant.  A few minutes later, Madi was announced as a Camelotean.  

The night of the show, Aunt Kari, Uncle Adam, and Baby Kate came and, as they were trying to scooch around people to get to their seats, Kate said to someone in her way, "Excuse me, I need to see my cousins."  And in true Kate fashion, she watched the entire show from start to finish, taking it all in.

   

The Happy Hole Digger  

As luck would have it, true to Madi's general personality, her part required her to be the one happy, go lucky Camelotean that always looked on the bright side of things. 

The Mini

(who had some serious pre-show jitters) announced very dramatically at one point, "What if I can't remember my lines?" 

Madi gave me the "don't worry, she does not have any lines-just dancing" whisper.

And that is something MC Hammer knows how to do. 

Photo Shoot at the Duck Pond

I love taking pictures.  I drive myself and my kids crazy by forcing them to participate in these photo-shoots, filled with changes of hair accessories, clothes, and poses.  They usually start out fairly well ~ everyone in good spirits and then end with tears (sometimes one daughter, sometimes both, and sometimes all three of us).


When you have taken the time to wash the babies up, get them dressed in clean clothes, done-up the hair, and grabbed all the accessories needed, there's a good chance someone is hot, tired, thirsty, hungry, or cranky.  But, you press on with the hopes of a great shot.  When you have this much time and energy invested, the kids, who sense weakness and vulnerability, know they are holding the power.  This is when the Love and Logic wisdom goes out the window and then begging, bribing, and pleading come into play.

I actually remember thinking during this shoot: This is why you don't try to take "professional" pictures of your own kids.  It's kind of like having your own child in your classroom - most times, it just doesn't work.  But, like childbirth, I have forgotten, or blocked out, most of the stress that came along with these pictures and am currently planning our next denim jacket and white dress/cowboy boot shoot.  I'm sure it will be perfect! ;-) 

The more I do yoga, the more relevant it seems to every situation in life.  This day, after the tears, we ended with some tree poses and a chance for the models to become the photogs. 

Letting expectations go, enjoying the moment, and accepting whatever comes my way (even if that means uncooperative photo-shoot girls). 




Namaste

Queen of the Hoop

Me: What do you love about mermaids?

MC:  That they have flappy tails and long hair. 
         And that they have red lipstick. 

Me:  Do they do anything special?

MC:  They flop their tail around.

The obsession with all things mermaid began when MC found one at the Goodwill that just spoke to her.  She had such a look of wonderment on her little face at her great find and she played with "Annabelle" loyally in the bath for months.  


Madi was the main party planner for MC's 5th birthday and she put a lot of work into it.  I am still finding drawings of cupcakes, games, and decorations in her spirals.  The main inspiration came from Barbie and the Mermaid Tale, which I hate admitting that we own.  I think I once imagined that my life would be barbie-free and my kids would be so cool they would just gravitate toward less perfectly proportioned-long, blond hair-blue eyed- totally perfect-type dolls.  Then, I'm walking through wal-mart and my baby spots "her," and the love affair begins.  So, who am I to judge Barbie?  I can't hate her just because she is "perfect," right?   


The movie, I would rate as [AW] (almost watchable) and by Barbie standards, this is pretty good.  Barbie and the Diamond Castle, on the other hand, receives the [ATS] (are they serious) because it was so ridiculous on so many levels, that once I forced Jonathan to watch the entire movie with the girls, just to see his reaction.  


The festivities included the standard cupcake eating, present time, and of course dancing to the Queen of the Waves song.  But the best part of the party, was the hula-hooping contest, which MC is a pro at.  She has been able to hula since about 4 years of age, so it was on!  She made her uncles look silly, because the adults in our family are not afraid to compete with a child, regardless of the occasion.  If they could have beat her and stolen the hula glory, they would have.  The good news is kids grow up knowing their successes are legitimate.  


Happy 5th Birthday MC, Queen of the Hoop!

   



Noodler has Zen

This is my little brother, Adam.  He is a noodler.  He is currently in deep preparation mode for his annual, no-girls-allowed, ski trip where it is mandatory to grow manly facial hair.  He has a whatever-it-takes attitude when in preparation mode if it promises to enhance the skiing experience.  This is where my plan came into play.  


I had been allowed into his noodling world where I was, by all accounts, unsuccessful.  It was my turn now and I knew that if I worded it just right, I could lure him to yoga where I would totally up-zen him.  Because, afterall, this is what yoga is all about. 


"So a little yoga would probably be good to prepare you for your ski trip, don't you think?"  He was totally game, of course.  I explained to him the mediatation part, how to breathe properly, and if someone farts audibly, you must have jedi warrior-like composure and pretend, throughout the rest of the class, that it did not happen.  This requires a mental mastery that I was positive, he did not possess. 


As class began, I got my yoga game face on, for this would be the day that I would chalk one up for the girls.  I was going to have to sneak peeks at him, because a mature yoga student often closes their eyes in deep focus, so this was going to be tricky.  Finally, a reverse-warrior II (and my chance to take mental snapshots of his lack of zen) when what to my wondering eyes would appear?  A noodler in near perfect yoga-flow.  And, yes, my amazement-disappointment continued through the rest of the class as my brain tried to make sense of it all. 
Was he secretly doing yoga at home?  
Are some people just born flexible? 
What is going on?              


After class:
Me: Wow, you really seemed to do well in there.

Noodler:  I have been stretching at home each night a little after I get out of a hot, whirlpool soak.

Me:  So, did you learn any new "stetches?"  Like, what about the pigeon? 

Noodler:  I've always called that one the sprinter's stretch.

Me:  Cool.  (whatever)


 

Frank & Lola's

Frank & Lola's:
Our fave Bavillian restaurant




Top Three Must-Haves:
1. Johnny Burger (with a cream-cheesy jalapeno sauce)
2. The Kid's Mac & Cheese (perfect) and un-copy-able (I've tried)
3. The Sweet Field's Salad (to erase any guilt from eating the
    forementioned menu items)

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

                           
We usually play a stressful game of pool with the girls, while waiting for a table.  But, the cool art work and the amazing food make it all better.


Oh, I forgot the best part:  KIDS EAT FREE!  And, when it's a given that I am eating most of MC's Mac & cheese anyway, it's a win-win, and promises to raise your left eye-brow.




MC and I made a secret F & L's run one night (I think J & M were at pitching practice). We sat down and she went into a coughing fit.  I felt the stares of the other patrons and decided that I could not, no matter how bad the Mac & Cheese craving was, endure the idea that we were messing up their dining experience.  I told the waitress that we would need to leave to get this little one taken care of and I explained to MC that we would go to the walmarts for cough syrup and we could grab a bite at the ever-handy McDonald's inside.  We were almost out of the restaurant (so close) but not before Mollie announced, "But McDonald's is so GROSS - you never feed me good food!" 

Bode Olan & Madi Marie

Look at the precious monkey, born on Cinco De Mayo 2010.  It was a little weird watching my baby sister have a baby, but even weirder watching my baby watch my sister have a baby.  Yes, my baby (now 9 years old) was IN the delivery room.  No one planned on it, she just insisted.  And she is not one to insist all that often.  Sure, she tries to buck the system once in awhile, but usually she is a go with the flow, always see the bright side, kind of kid.  

On this particular day, she became someone else's kid as I tried explaining to her that her father would be picking her up from school because I was going to the hospital to be with my baby sister who would be bringing this little bundle into the world.  Madi said that she felt like she needed to be there, a couple of times.  I tried to pacify her with the usual, "you can come up after he is here, and it may be a little too much for you to handle" types of responses.  She made a dramatic fall to the ground and became almost inconsolable (for Madi, anyway) and I was really taken back.  So much so, that I decided to give it a go.  When I called to inform the expectant parents that Madi would be coming too, you could sense some hesitation.  Actually, I think their exact words were, "who brings an 8 year old into the delivery room?  

So, we arrived and it was your standard room, complete with two mother-in-laws.  We all decided that at the crucial time, we would kick little Madi out into the waiting room.  However, no one really defined crucial, and so there we all sat.  Two mom-in-laws, one big sister with her 8 year old in tow, and one mama-to-be and her baby daddy.  The nurses were doing their usual checks when the doctor was called and the news came.  Unless this baby boy turned himself around, a C-Section was inevitable.  So, the advice was for the mama-to-be to rock back and forth on her hands and knees.  And in true mama-guilt fashion, she cried, blamed herself for this situation, and said, "If only I had been doing this all along."  

Her rocking time was up and the doctor came in and informed her it was time.  They would be wheeling her out for C-section.  Mama-to-be was teary-eyed, scared, as were the rest of us.  We had not ever had to go down that road ourselves, so we were anxious for her.  The mom-in-laws left, feeling like it was the "crucial" time, I guess.  I could not leave my sister and everyone forgot about little Madi, who just occasionally said things like, "I can't wait to meet him and hold him."

Another doctor happened to be checking in when the mama-to-be, told her the C Section news, and asked for a last minute check, just in case anything had changed.  The doctor obliged and after two seconds of checking, said the words, "push."  What?  We all looked around and the mama-to-be said, really?  Then, she said, "This is going from my worst nightmare to the best birth ever."  

Madi remained calm and sure that she was in the right place and had no intention of leaving.  The adults around her had brief panic attacks and emotional moments, but she stayed strong and optimistic.  Watching Madi hold that baby boy for the first time was priceless.  I think the little monkey is going to like his cousin, who demanded she be there the day he came into the world. 

Okie Noodling

This is my little brother, Adam.  He is a noodler.  And not the "Okie Noodler," as seen on public television type.  He has all his fingers, the last time I checked and can clean up nicely, if required.  You could throw him into a high-brow charity event and he would probably only embarrass his wife, an esteemed attorney, once or twice.  And that would be for poking fun of the metrosexuals, and who among us can't refrain from that?  


Adam is one of those all-boy types, who grew up on fishing, noodling, and hunting.  Our dad was an extreme outdoorsman, and we were always in the water.  I say "extreme" because we once camped out for an entire summer.  And not the "turn up the AC in the RV" type, I mean the "tent & build your own fire" type.  Us kids were 10, 5, 3, and 1 at the time.  I'm sure my mom looks back on this time with fond memories.  Who wouldn't want to potty-train kids, clean fish, and then cook your meals on a tiny gas stove?  


The noodling, however, did not start until my brothers were in junior high and by that time I was busy back-combing my bangs and collecting swatch watches, so I did not get to fully experience this phenomenon.  My dad did drag me along, once or twice, to plug the holes if there were no boys handy.  Plugging the holes requires the wearing of old tennis shoes and the ability to hold your breath, at times.  So into the water we went, and Dad would swim down and then come up with a smile.  He would grab my foot and place it wherever he felt like the fish may escape from.  So, you're partially treading water and trying to keep your foot firm, when you feel it: a fish, who knows there used to be a hole right there, trying to hit your foot hard enough to get away from whatever is attempting to grab it.    


So, since the hick-u-mentary aired on national TV a few years back, noodling has since evolved into one of those "I think I want to try that" types of things.  And I fit this category.  After all, I have the perfect noodlin' guide to help me, right?  So, I make the trip to Adam's lake to make it happen.  


Adam, and his two other noodlers-in-training, who are now pros themselves, managed to pull out the fish pictured above.  I had a harder time than I had imagined getting the nerve to swim down, & feel around into an area that I could not see.  Adam even found a fish for me, and swam my hand down to it.  I felt around quickly, secretly hoping that nothing was in there, and sure enough, the fish was gone.  As the sun was setting, it seemed that I would have to face the fact that I did not have what it takes (mentally, anyway) to do this. 


Right before we left, we tried a boat ramp.  Apparently, the concrete, which slopes gradually into the water, makes a perfect home for fish, guarding their eggs.  Oh, and by the way, fish who are guarding their eggs, bite anything that comes near their babies-to-be.  This part, no one told me.  Noodlers don't talk about getting bit or the scrapes on their hands and arms, or the blood trickling down their heads from bumping into rocks.  So, in my noodling fantasies, I envisioned a fish, lying docile, you locate them, gently feeling for their mouth, they in return, realizing you want to catch them, open wide, and you simply pull them out. 


Angry with myself and realizing I had just driven two hours and was officially a big chicken, I began to really get my hands in there, knowing my time was about out, and this was when I felt it:  the mushiest, softest, sack of ...wth is that?  And then, I felt IT: the sharpest, shock of pain, make you scream like-a-girl and fight-off-tears, because something bit me, hard.  And, no, I did not have the guts to stick my hand back into that hole.  And that is how my first noodling trip went.


I am still trying to convince myself that if I wear thicker gloves next time, get immune to the shock of being bitten, and find the balls to fight back, maybe I can pull this noodling fantasy off.  If Kerri Russell in the movie Leaves of Grass can do it, I can too.                  

The Red Queen and The Vampire Princess 2010

Our obsession with Alice in Wonderland (the Johnny Depp version, of course) was the inspiration for the Halloween costumes.  MC originally hoped to be the porcupine, which the Red Queen beat with a club in the movie. Hmmm, do you think there is anything to this?  What is she trying to infer?  

Anyway, we had no luck finding an oppressed porcupine at The Target or The walmarts, and I just didn't think I had the sewing equipment or know-how to pull that one off.  She and I were on one of our spontaneous shopping trips when we wandered into the costume section and she found one that spoke to her:
The Vampire Princess

The Tiger mom in me immediately wanted to veto as I wondered if we indulged this sort of thing would she wind up dating a vampire as a teenager?  Would she continue her preference of the dark and evil?  Afterall, I only attended "Hallelujah" parties where we dressed as Biblical characters growing up (and yes, my mom vetoed Jezebel).  Oh, we were "Gouls for God" back then, and look how normal we turned out?  I told the Tiger Mom in my head, to "back off" and explained that Halloween is for children and not for Satan.  And just as actors on film pretend to be characters, even evil ones, somehow once the movie is complete, they can return to their true, morally-upright selves (usually).  I threw caution to the wind, threw the costume into the cart and, I must admit, it felt good.  We even bought fake blood for extra effect. 

Their "All Hallow's Eve" (as it was called back in my days) made me want to join in.  They ran from house to house, screaming things like, "She is giving away nerds AND snickers bars!" along with the other mini hoodlums in our neighborhood (a nemo, a baseball player, a butterfly, and a Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz) always with a chorus of parents asking, "Did you say thank-you?" and then threatening, "If you don't, this is our last house!"  

So far, I have not caught MC leading any satanic rituals or drinking anyone's blood.  Time will tell though, right?          
 

No Farting in the Salon!

                                           

Three days ago we were trout fishing at Lake Pawhuska and the girls were in shorts and flip-flops.  It was one of those rare, warm Saturdays in January and we took full advantge.  We did not prepare too well, except for actually buying fishing licenses which came in handy as the game warden was checking.  But trout bait, we had none.  So, we did the next best thing, found some on the ground.  Then J hit the jackpot and found some in a bottle.  It was a little hard and crusty, but we were hopeful.  Unfortunately, no trout, no other fish, and not a single bite.  But, the warm sun and watching the girls find the perfect stick to play Nanny McPhee with was glorious.  We also checked out Lake Bluestem, which is right across the road so we would have another spot in the future.


Fast forward two days later and we are home, out of school, on another snow day - our 4th for the 2011 school year.  Snow drifts so high that they say even 4 wheel drivers are having some trouble.  J opened a coke out in the garage (because, of course, he is working on stuff out there), and it froze.  He got so antsy yesterday that he painted our bedroom and it looks amazing.  If we stay in B'Ville awhile, we will have to prepare ourselves with lots of home reno supplies during these snow days so that J can maintain sanity.  


The girls and I did a spa where we soaked our feet, trimmed our nails, and painted.  We put cucumbers on our eyes and at one point MC Hammer angrily yelled, "there is no farting in a salon."  She takes farts very personally and finds them offensive enough that she will call the farter out and shame them openly.   


Of course, we have gingerbread cookies to make, bread to bake, and yoga to partake in....but, I am a classic over-planner and like to fantasize about all these activites the night before.  However, on the actual snow day, I find myself on the computer, watching a movie, and listening to J work for the majority of the time.