Crackers

"I spy with my little eye," Roman said at dinner, "something that starts with the letter M. And it's white."

Ben, without hesitation: "Is it MOM?"

Wow. Time to get some sunshine? Or change make-up shades?

Thankfully, today we accomplished #1. All the other white stuff has melted, and in the course of a week, we went from this:

...to this:

The melt did mean saying farewell to Crackers, the boys' first snowman (with an unintentionally cheeky name). I can't help but show him off one more time.

And, for those of you playing, the answer to Roman's "I Spy" was milk. Not pasty pale Mom, although that was a pretty inspired guess. 

Sugar

Epic bad scheduling on this Valentine's Day: I had an early date today with my obgyn.

But, with that behind me - yet surprisingly no flowers from Dr. S. for our annual rendezvous - time for us to to celebrate around here.

Ben, who must have been plowed with sweets at school, is currently sprinting through the house. With his shirt off. He's a drunk man in the fourth quarter of the Super Bowl...and, likewise, he should pass out at any moment.

(Look at that face - he's a sugar lunatic!)

Roman, after accompanying me to the doc (but staying above-wing and out of sight, naturally), is soaking off the stress in a cozy bubble bath. Cliche' if it was me; cute, because it's him.

Reno, meanwhile, is consumed with this peanut butter-filled frozen Kong, pretty much the diamond earrings of the dog world.

And I don't require much. I hope Anthony's on his way home and not among the men at Walgreens frantically picking through Valentine's Day card rejects, which I'll totally sniff out if it's (1) in Spanish, (2) religious or (3) nine dollars.

All I want? A replay of this scene, a little porn for my mom friends. Husband in the kitchen, emptying the dishwasher, unprompted. 

Happy Valentine's Day, Sugars.

Five-Year Plan

"When can I walk to school by myself?" Ben asked today.

But first, he buttered me up with this snazzy artwork, made for Catholic (Cathlec, he writes) School Week's "Parent Appreciation Day."

Art aside, I couldn't even respond to the poor kid's question because (1) I was already choking up and (2) "over my cold, dead body" might scare a six-year-old. Or give him ideas.

And it's not because we're too far, or that it's a bad neighborhood.  We're a half-mile away through middle-class, tree-lined blocks. The problem is, I'd be exhausted from bolting from tree to tree, hiding and spying all the way, every day. 

Eventually I did answer him, pulling the response from my usual resource: thin air. "When you're in sixth grade and Brother's in fourth, you can walk to school together." Gulp.

That gives us five years to move in with the family next door to Blessed Sacrament. I hope they're nice Cathlec people.

Grazie, Prego, Scusi

It's thank you, you're welcome and excuse me in Italian. 

It also pretty well describes our feelings about 2012 (mostly the grazie, but also the scusi).

And, finally, it's a great little song by Dean Martin that will make more sense if you have a few minutes to watch this video that Antony created as a fun memento to 2012. 

Here's to happy, loving weeks ahead and a million loose-screw moments in 2013. 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcNiSriyPOo&feature=youtu.be

 

We're Super Cultured, Obviously

Ben, after school last week: "Today we went to a, um...a few...nuh.. A funera...."

Me: "A funeral?!"

Ben: "Uh, yeah...?"

Me: "Did someone die?!" Good lord, what were they teaching him?!

Ben: "No, no one died. There were three bears and a wolf, and singers..."

Me, after a text to an always-helpful fellow 1st grade mom: "Ben, do you mean a theater? Like theee-uh-tuh? Or maybe...was it a rehearsal?"

REHEARSAL! Yes, as my keen investigative techniques uncovered (thanks Law & Order!), the Wichita Children's Theater held an assembly, The Three Little Pigs, with singing, acting...the whole cultural shebang.

Or, for Ben to tell it: a funeral.

Meanwhile, Roman and I enjoyed our own cultural experience at Exploration Place, playing retro video games. EP's traveling exhibit is Videotopia, a look back at early video games, so it's basically a free arcade minus the creepy people. And while I don't want to mislead my kids about museums, any that offers Ms. Pac Man and Pole Position is okay with me.

Then we saw what Rome could build in a day (30 minutes, really) with this leaning tower of blocks.

I have to hand it to you, Wichita. Our definitions of culture align nicely, even if your children's plays resemble funerals.

Losing it

And, just like that, Ben's too old for baby teeth. Well, one anyway.

We've had The Tooth Fairy on high alert (this thing has been loose so long that its replacement already half-arrived) so she (he?) should be flying by with a $2 bill this evening. And maybe Fairy will leave a little something for me, since I'm turning 36 tomorrow.

Which has me thinking of the things I'm too old for.

You know, things like energy drinks. And body glitter. Camping in tents. Party buses. Salt after 7 p.m. Booty shorts. The phrase "amazeballs." And Glamour Magazine. It's been a good run, Glamour, but if I haven't yet tried that "New Sex Trick He'll Love!" what are the odds I'll do so now?

Slim.

What I will do is list things that keep me young: you know, the kids. Anthony. Exercise. Friends. Old sex tricks. Laughing. And going to bed at 9 p.m

Speaking of, it's nearly time to hit the sack...but first, I'll just double check Fairy's work.

There's No Place Like...

...wherever your friends are.

Big news in Oz. Some life-long California friends are headed our way, set to move here mid-December.

That's right, just in time for a gool ol' Wichita winter wind bitch slap. But let's keep that quiet. Also, don't mention the allergies. Or the heat. Or the fact that all recipes begin, "take a block of cream cheese and..."

The friends: Shana, John and their girls. Last time Shana and I lived near each other, we were spiral-permed, over-tanned, and caterpillar-eyebrowed. (See below, circa 1994.)

Oh wait...that was just me. Shana was (and is) lovely. And authentic, loyal and hilarious.

They love the Midwest (an actual quote), and can't wait to get here. Likewise, Sanders Family, we can't wait to have you. You'll fit in perfectly with the crowd of wonderful Wichita goofballs we've befriended.

Shana, pencil us in to recreate the above scene...only minus brows. And minus tans. Plus fabric. And plus kids.