The Value of a Dollar

I wanted to go to the health club again today. Mike is gone on his mancation to Mille Lacs Lake, so I need to go everywhere with kids in tow. I wanted to go for three reasons, one being that exercise is good for me, two, because I just wanted to get out of the house for a while, and three, we're nearing the end of the month, and I need to go to the club 8 times in order for my insurance to pick up my membership dues. I'm always surprised when the kids are disgruntled about going, since every time I pick them up from the child center, they want to stay longer. I did not get an enthusiastic response from the muchkins, so I decided to use the power of persuasion, a.k.a. a bribe, to boost their enthusiasm toward the trip. I told them they could each have a dollar to use in the vending machine. The eager beavers quickly changed their attitude. They each proudly clutched their dollar in anticipation of the sweet, sugar-filled treat they would soon be devouring. When I finished my workout, I picked the kids up from the child care. They were getting ready to put their dollar through the slot, which is a treat in and of itself, and their smiling faces turned upside down when they discovered that some crackpot removed the vending machine. Apparently, the contents of the machine are not healthy enough for a health club. In response to the devastation, I quickly devised an alternate plan of action. I took the sugar-crazed maniacs to the corner store down the street from our house. You'd think they'd never been in a store before. They were so excited about the many, many choices that filled those glorious aisles. "Look at this!" and "Look over here!" "Lilah, you'd really like this one!" were some of the shouts of joy heard by everyone in the store. Finally, after about 10 minutes, Gavin chose a diamond ring sucker, Emma chose a package of poptarts, and Lilah chose gummy worms. Lilah's treat added up to $1.00, and besides, she does actually understand the concept of money and change. Emma and Gavin, on the other hand, both received change back for their purchases. They looked at the guy, then turned to me, as if to say, "What's with this fool? I gave him one dollar, and he gave me three coins in return."

The Coolest Dude

On our way to the health club, the kids were having a discussion regarding a party they'll be attending tomorrow. They kept using superlatives in their conversation- youngest, oldest, tallest, smallest, etc. Eventually I overheard this:
"Do you guys think I'm going to be the coolest one there?" from the guy wearing blue crocs, black socks, orange shorts, and a red shirt.

Future Hair Stylist

I just found this chunk of hair on the floor in the basement. After some skillful detectivework, I determined that it came from the head of one Emma Schulz. She did a decent job. You can't even tell where the damage is done. When asked, "Why did you do it, Emma?" She answered, quite frankly, "I couldn't see. It was hanging in my eyes."

This is, I believe, the third haircut she has given herself. Even the time she gave herself bangs, it turned out o.k. (see photo- June, 2005)

Remembering

Sometimes I look at my kids in total awe, like, I can't believe this beautiful creature is my offspring.

When Lilah was about 2 years old, I was doing the bedtime routine with her, just finishing a book and having a chat with her. I remember staring at her, thinking, "Wow! This kid is amazing" She was so cute with her expressive face and disheveled hair. I gave her a hug and said, "Lilah, you are so sweet, I could just eat you up." She cocked her head and looked at me, perplexed, and responded, "Mommy, you can't eat me. I not food." Just like that. I assured her that I would not, in fact, eat her. It's just an expression. Later, after I had gotten ready for bed, and I was laying in bed reading, I heard her little apprehensive voice from her room (next door to ours) reminding me, "Mommy, don't eat me."

I wonder what kind of dreams she had that night.

Bagpipes, Fancy Footwork, and some Heavy Breathing

Tuesday Nights at the Park

Bagpipe practice is held every Tuesday night in the parking lot at the church down the street from our house. We can hear the music from our house, but we can actually watch, and the sound is much better if we go to the school playground right across the street from the church. It's pretty cool.

Summer Swim Lessons

Today was the last day of summer swim lessons. Emma and Gavin worked on learning the basics of swimming and basic strokes in Jellyfin level. Lilah worked on refining her strokes in Kingfin level. I'm very proud of all of the kids and the progress they made this summer!

We are swimmers! (that's what they yell as a group at the end of every lesson)

Never a dull moment

I like to think of Mike and myself as attentive parents, but Emma seems to have a natural ability of putting herself in harms way. Like, for instance, the time when she was 18 months old and moved a stool, then climbed upon it to get into the kitchen sink, all the while sitting next to a butcher knife that was strategically placed behind the faucet in a seemingly safe, out of reach place. Or, the time when she tried to move the 25 inch television and it fell to the floor. Or, the time when she decided to try to shave her upper lip. (note the upper lip in the photo)





Somehow, she escapes these incidents, for the most part, unharmed.

Last night, after attempting a headfirst dive from a coffee table into a couch to land a handstand, (this doesn't sound good, does it?) Emma came to me crying. She was crying pretty hard, and I was trying to figure out exactly what was hurting her and she kept saying her neck and the top of her head. She continued crying with her head resting on my shoulder as I held her and stroked her head and back. Within about 30 seconds she became quiet, so naturally, I asked if she felt better. She didn't answer and I realized that she had lost consciousness. Ok, at this point I'm totally freaking out, trying to wake her up. After what seemed like a lifetime (about 10 seconds), she came to and continued crying. Within a few minutes, she stopped crying, and was ready to resume play. It was as if nothing happened. Not being one to take a temporary loss of consciousness lightly, I called the nurse line. Per advice of the Dr., I proceded to take her to the ER, to make sure everything was o.k. After a thorough check and a head CT to rule out any kind of bleeding, Emma was given a clean bill of health, and we were given a checklist of what to keep an eye out for. The reason for the passing out remains a mystery- maybe from pain, or from not taking a breath while crying- whatever the reason, I'm overjoyed to say that she is totally normal, at least in the Emma sense of the word.

Speaking of obsessive...

Is this, by any stretch of the imagination, normal?

There are 137 stuffed animals and babies pictured here, of which, 30 are bears, 22 are dogs, and 15 are bunnies. The rest are random. Keep in mind that 2 years ago, we lost 40 in our flooded basement.

After taking this photo, I sifted through and weeded out 20, but don't tell the anyone here. The munchkins seem to have an attachment to each and every one.

Obsessions

Every time we leave our house, the kids feel this uncontrollable need to carry armloads of toys, books, dolls, stuffed animals, crayons, cars, motorcycles and any other imaginable objects they might find suitable for play in the car. It doesn’t matter if we’re driving five minutes or five hours, it’s the same thing, every time. I’ve asked them to come to the car, empty-handed. I only get looks of bewilderment, as if I’ve asked them to leave the house without their arms or legs. I've requested that they humor me, "just bring one toy, please, I'm sure that's all you need," I've begged. I'm always reminded of the scene from “The Jerk” when Navin Johnson hits bottom and leaves his house, carrying the only things he needs: the ashtray, the remote control, the paddle game, the chair, and a magazine.

I wouldn’t mind so much, but they don’t bring all the crap back into the house when we return. Furthermore, the items that do actually get brought back in, usually end up strewn about the living room. Don't even get me started on the times when they forget said objects at the place where we've gone.

Be the parent, one might say to me. Put your foot down. Well, I must say, it’s not as easy as one might think. They sneak out of the house before I notice all the things they’ve carried. Sometimes we’re running late, and I just don’t have time to discuss the same thing we’ve discussed 500 times. And, quite honestly, I don’t want to listen to the whine that follows if I actually take the stuff away.

Lilah is rather normal in comparison to the other two. She’ll decide on a couple of toys and a book and she’s set.

Emma has it the worst. I would go so far as to say she’s obsessed with stuff. She’s quite crafty about her obsession. She’ll be the first one to walk out the door. She sneaks by me before I’ve had the chance to inventory all her stuff. She fills a bag sometimes, and stands ready to go by the car, looking all innocent, trying to hide the fact that she’s packed- conceal and carry I say. Last night, before leaving for Aunt Amy’s house, Emma was waiting by the car, with her little arms full of the following items: 5 little ponies, 1 large unicorn, a stuffed lion dressed in a Packer’s jersey, a shampoo cap with a little pony on top, a tiny stuffed mouse, and Woodstock, the bird from Peanuts. HELP! One time, during her obsession-with-toilet paper-phase, she snuck a whole roll of T.P. in her shirt. I noticed when she was having trouble buckling her carseat straps over her enlarged abdomen. That girl certainly is a quirky one.

Gavin has his own quirks when we’re heading out the door. First and foremost, the boy is never ready when it’s time to go, hence the nickname given to him by Uncle Bob: G-Dawdle. I wonder how many times in my life so far I’ve said, “Come on, Gavin!” or “Let’s go, Gavin!” That being said, when I finally get him to walk out the door, he realizes that both Emma and Lilah have toys to bring along for the ride. Then, he decides he needs some obscure toy we haven’t seen in months, and isn’t satisfied until he finds it. I realize that, A. I help him find the toy, or B. I listen to him carry on, and on, and on... So, I usually opt for helping him find the toy, or by some small miracle, I talk him into something else, a little more accessible. Ok, now he’s found the thing that makes him happy, he gets into the car, satisfied, and starts buckling. I’m finally in the driver’s seat and turn back to see if everyone’s ready, when I notice Gavin isn’t wearing any shoes.

The aspect of this whole, reccurring drama that I find most compelling is, I’ve grown so accustomed to it, that it almost seems normal.

Dialogue in the car

Gavin: "Mom, can I be in boyscouts?"

Me: "Are you talking to me?"

Lilah: "No, he's talking to Emma."
(Lilah and Gavin often refer to Emma as "Mom." I am always mommy.)

Emma : "Gavin, how many times do I have to tell you, I don't want you going to space!"

Rationalizing

Last night, while setting up the Sorry game, tension began to rise during the distribution of colored pawns. Lilah and Gavin both really wanted blue. Here’s how it went down.

Lilah stated decidedly, “I’m going to be blue.”
Gavin responded with a touch of whine, “I wanted to be blue.”
Lilah retorted, “But, I really wanted to be blue, and blue’s my favorite color.”
Gavin cranked up the whine a bit, “But I chose the game, and I should get to choose my color.”

I followed this conversation, thinking, both of these totally sane children have completely legitimate reasons why they should get to be blue. In an attempt to regain a peaceful, harmonious situation, I came up with a rational solution, and declared excitedly, “Gavin, look, your pajamas are green! You should be green! Besides, both Gavin and green start with the letter G!”

Gavin pondered this for a moment, then responded, “Um, ok.”
Problem solved.

Lilah won the game with blue, if you were wondering.

A most superb weekend

On Saturday morning, I raced in my 3rd triathlon of my life. Does that make me a triathlete? I use the term loosely, since the fastest finisher completed the entire race in less time than it took me to finish the bike portion alone. At any rate, I did it, and I’ll accept my medal with pride. I'm very proud of Mike and my family (see photo) who also participated and completed the Northwoods Triathlon in Nevis, MN. The event requires participants to swim ¼ mile, bike 14 miles, and then run 5K. I think we've started a family tradition. We're all talking about what we're going to do next year, and how we might be able to improve our times. A big thanks goes out to my mom, Bri, Rachel and Hannah for taking care of the munchkins, and for cheering us on throughout the race.

Our 3 kids participated in a kids running race after the triathlon. Lilah and Gavin both did the race last year. Emma, who is quite adept at running fast, was really looking forward to "competing" since last year, she was stung 7 times by bees prior to the event, and had to bow out gracefully. She was prepared and ready to go. She got off to a great start, but got tripped up and skinned her knee at the start. She did finish, but not in the order she planned. She's thinking about next year already.

Aside from the fact that we all finished the race unscathed and still among the living, we were blessed with an awesome place to stay on Lake Belle Taine (thanks to the Groves family!), glorious weather, great company and conversation, and a multitude of fun-filled activities to keep us busy as we enjoyed the North/Central part of Minnesota.

Highlights:

*Enjoying the lake

*Margaritas and yummy food at Companeros in Dorsett

*The Logging Camp!

On Sunday, we ate breakfast at a place called The Logging Camp. The breakfast menu is always the same and includes the following: a big jar of prunes for the group, all you can eat pancakes and ham, a serving of hash browns per person, and the number of eggs you request. Egg options are soft or scrambled. Coffee, juice and milk included. This was most definitely a highlight of the events that transpired over the weekend. The routine goes like this. First you enter the main building that serves as a place to register and pay for your dining party, and also as a “gift shop” with a bunch of crap for sale. Emma bought a tiny horse for her small Barbies. Lilah bought a suede-like, fringed pink purse that is “not an authentic Native American artifact” and was “made in China.” Gavin bought a bow and arrow set, which included a plastic bow and 3 arrows with suction-cupped ends to stick to the cardboard target, also included. After registering and making your purchases, you wait outside for your name to be called. While waiting to be seated in the log building, a.k.a. mess hall, parties hang around and have options for entertainment. You can feed sunfish in the creek, although the fish don’t eat any of the food since there are bugs galore hanging out on the water. You can try to lift a large chain. (See picture) You can feed chickens, turkeys and ducks, none of which eat the food you throw to them. The turkeys do, however, jump out of the pen and eat the bugs from the grills of cars.

*Itasca State Park.

This is a view from the top of the Fire Watchtower

*The visitor center
(I need help with turning this photo)
There are phones randamly positioned throughout the visitor center that play prerecorded messages giving information about Itasca. Gavin tried on this forest firefighter ensemble and proceded to pick up a reciever and repeat "Who are you? Who are you?."

Dipping our feet at the Headwaters of the Mississippi

Climbing the Fire Watchtower

All in all, the weekend was just about perfect.

Inquiring minds want to know...

Last night, the kids were sitting at the island eating dinner. Emma sat staring at her food then turned to me with a quizzical look and asked, "Mommy, how does food turn into poop?"

My reply went something like this. "Well, first when you chew your food, your teeth are working to begin the process of breaking down the food into smaller pieces, then your saliva breaks it down even more, so you can swallow it. Then the broken down food travels through your body, starting with your esophagus, then through other parts of your body, like your stomach and your small and large intestines, which are like long tubes going through your body. These parts help break down the food even more so it can travel through your body, until it changes into poop."

Then, Emma looked at me in a state of confusion and asked, "So, how does food change into poop?"

My response to this, "It's like magic."

Satisfied with this, Emma went back to her eating her dinner.

Next, Gavin piped in and added, "I know where the poop comes out." He continues to say, "It comes out your buh... I mean bottom."

A naming event

A little dialogue from a game I like to call "Take out as many stuffed animals as you can, line them up, seat them on chairs and give them names."

Lilah, "What should we name this one? Sniffy? Sniffycalifragilistic..."

Emma, "Yeah, sniffycali... sniffycali... sniffy..cali..flatulous? Umm, how do you say that?"

Games

Lilah got her first board game about 4 1/2 years ago. It was none other than Candy Land. The object of the game is to be the first player to advance throughout the winding, colorful board to meet up with King Candy at the Candy Castle. Lilah failed to grasp this concept, since some of the cards have characters on them, Queen Frostine and Princess Lolly proved to be Lilah's favorites. She'd settle for Gramma Nut or Jolly from the Gumdrop Mountains. Even Mr. Mint and Plumpy, both of which will set you back to almost the beginning of the game, were better than just getting a plain old colored card. Playing the game could be agonizing. Do I try to teach the girl a lesson in life- you don't always get what you want just because you want it- or, do I keep the peace and stack the deck just right so she gets her special cards? I did a little of both, depending on her mood and mine.

We have since acquired a number of games. I always envisioned all of us sitting around the table, peacefully playing games as a family. I am happy to say we've reached that point in our lives. It was a rocky road for a while, though. All 3 children really like to win, and in most games there is just one winner, if in fact everyone has the patience and stamina to make it through a whole game, and mom or dad doesn't throw the game out the window. We have come a long way. We can easily finish a game of Sorry, that is, if we have an hour to spare.

We have also played some card games with the kids. Our first was Crazy Eights, which we started playing over a year ago. 4 year old hands are not meant for holding 5 cards, but that's neither here nor there. Picture all 5 of us sitting around the table. Lilah is 5 1/2 years old, Emma and Gavin are 4. Cards are flying out of the hands of distractable children, while we're trying to keep focused on finishing the game before bedtime . It's Gavin's turn and he's contemplating about which card to lay down. I finally say, "Gavin, just lay your biggest card." He looks at me, then back at the cards in his hand, then back at me with a confused look on his face and says, "But mommy, they're all the same size!"

Our newest card game is the game of war. The kids are now even able to play a game against each other! This is something.

an innocent game of war

First Entry

Lilah Renae







7 years old
sweet, calm, eager to please, lovable, intelligent, independent










Emma Kathryn




5 1/2 years old
energetic, joyful, entertaining, silly, determined, colorful dresser










GAVIN MICHAEL






5 1/2 years old
talkative, sensitive, funny, observant, inquisitve, creative