Cold Case

It's starting to get chilly (at least it is here in Atlanta. Sorry, Texas friends) and you know what that means: all the mommies are going to start forcing their kids to wear jackets and coats less they "catch cold."

I CAN'T TAKE ANOTHER SEASON OF IT! So I am putting it very clearly here in a PSA-style blog:

YOU DO NOT CATCH A COLD FROM BEING COLD

I know; it's really hard to wrap your brain around that if you've grown up thinking that stepping outside into cold weather leads you to contract a virus. Also, it's understandable that there is some confusion given that the disease is called a "cold" and the temperature is called "cold." 

Why oh why do they call it a cold? Because think about it: if they called it "a hot" you would probably worry that your sweaty children would catch it in the summer. And if they called it "a broccoli" you would for sure fear that consuming too much of that green vegetable would lead to a majorly runny nose. 

But it's just a coincidence. The two have nothing to do with each other. 

"Then why do more people catch colds in the winter?" you ask. 

Good question. Let me clear that up too. It's because we're all inside more, passing germs. The truth is, if we would spend more time outside (with or without a jacket), we would be LESS LIKELY to catch a broccoli. 

I put out this PSA for my own protection, really. See, the weather is in the 50s and 60s here and most people (myself included) are sporting jackets and hoodies. My kids don't care to do that--or wear pants for that matter. And I am sure many moms are thinking, "Those poor kids. Where are their jackets? And their pants? They're going to catch cold!" 

I try to get them to wear more suitable fall clothing--not because I fear for their health, but because I worry about the glares and public ridicule. And even I admit, they do look a little ridiculous. 

But then I think, if they are comfortable then what do I care? As Leo says, "It's my body!" And he has heard me say "you don't catch a cold from being cold" enough to throw that back at me.  Sure, if it were below freezing they could be at risk for hypothermia or frost bite. But we're not there yet. 

Like Jimmy Kimmel said about the anti-vaccine people: "You probably aren't going to take medical advice from a talk show host," (or in my case, a freelance writer/blogger/spin instructor) but "I would expect you to take medical advice from almost every doctor in the world!" 

And what they tell you to do is wash your hands, don't touch your nose and eyes a lot if your hands aren't clean and stay away from people who are sick. They say nothing about staying warm.

So this fall and winter, wear a jacket. Or don't. And definitely eat your broccoli. But don't eat broccoli after someone with a runny nose because that, my friends, is how you really catch a cold. 

Camera Captures

Sometimes I just peek at the pics on my iPhone's camera roll to see if any of them spark a blog topic. Well, apparently, the kids have been snapping pictures more than I have. And I have to say, their work is impressive considering they are so young. I think I might have a couple of budding Annie Leibovitz on my hands. 

A superb selfie from Gus: 

This is one of about a hundred I found that I call "Dark and mysterious." 

I call this, "Toes' view of the living room." 

And then, "Heel's view of the living room." 

The lighting on this one is spectacular.

One of the kids was experimenting with lighting and camera angles here.

The shadows and backlight here are quite haunting.

This blur was intentional, I'm sure, to show the movement of the floors.

Whichever kid took this one was really committed--tilting the phone just right AND executing the blur balance.

I call this, "Blurry Mommy." 

After Leo took this picture of Gus's Pull-up, he uploaded it to an app called ChatterPix where he made the Pull-up talk. Genius.

I see a rug. I see a suspicious object close up to the camera. This one really sparks my curiosity.

This shot of the door speaks to me.

I mean, who would think of shooting the foyer from the POV of walking out of the house? Only a brilliant photographer.

It's like the couch cushion comes to life.

It's like the ceiling fan comes to life. (Which would be nice, actually, since it is not working right now.)

Funky angle on the couch cushion. I dig it!

And then I uncovered about 200 of these selfie gems. I chose only the best ones:

And lastly, a t-shirt selfie done my me, to show that, I may not have the photography chops of my sons, but I am the coolest mom on the block with my new Star Wars shirt.

A Blog Bundle

Oh, dear blog, if you were a child, you would be taken away from me. Because I have neglected you. But I vow to do better. Tonight, I suddenly remembered that you existed, and thought, "I need to write a post on my blog!" But what to write about? When I used to post daily (obviously, pre-kids), I would say to Frank, "What should I write about on my blog tomorrow?" and he would answer, "The pressures of writing a blog."

But just like a morning radio DJ shouldn't talk about how tired he/she is, a blogger shouldn't talk about writer's block. I have plenty to say, it's just that none of it is enough for an entire blog post.

So with that, I give you a little bundle of what's been going on here--at my house and in my brain.

Let's start with Leo:

He had his first sleepover about a month ago. (I'm so behind!) He and his best friend John joined about seven other boys to celebrate Etienne's seventh birthday. Etienne's parents were so brave to do this as it was a lot of the boys' first sleepover.  The boys loved the Minecraft theme (Leo's latest obsession)--they swam, made Minecraft t-shirts, played Minecraft bingo and watched a movie before eventually going to sleep.

The other thing going on with Leo is a massive exodus of his teeth! He was a late bloomer in this department but he has lost three since June. So that is an average of one a month. He has lost two bottom teeth and a top tooth. I don't know how this kid eats! The tooth fairy has been generous but not TOO generous.  For his first tooth, he got $5 and a spy pen that coincidentally I had bought for him at Cracker Barrel six months earlier and had never given to him. For the next two he got a dollar per tooth. I hear that sometimes the tooth fairy gives more money for a tooth, if it was a tooth that she was low on. 

Then there's Gus. When he's not pooping in his pants, Gus is mostly delightful. He asks LOTS of questions. Like sometimes he just goes on a question-asking binge: 

"Gus, here is a dish towel so you can clean up the water you spilled." 

"What's a dish towel?" 

"It's a towel that you use in the kitchen, usually to dry dishes." 

"What are dishes?" 

"The plates that we eat on, the glasses we drink out of." 

"What is a drink?" 

"You know, a liquid that you put in your mouth like water or juice." 

"What is a liquid?" 

It could go on all day. 

Gus is also into Paw Patrol, his shoo shoo (which he still takes everywhere) and pretty much anything Leo is into (Minecraft, Star Wars and losing teeth).

As far as what's going on in my head…there are two things. Okay, hopefully there are more than two things, but two things I'd like to share: 

I really don't see the point of business cards. If I want to find you, I am not going to go search for a little piece of paper. I will just look you up in the phone book. Duh. 

Just kidding. I mean, I guess sometimes you can't remember someone's name so you need the card to remind you? But I usually do remember their name or their company's name…at least enough to Google them and find their number. I so badly want to refuse business cards when someone hands theirs to me. But I know that looks crazy. So instead I just throw them in the trash. Because even something as small as a business card can cause clutter. It's like gateway clutter. 

While I'm at it, I'd like to say I also don't like appointment reminder cards. I'm just going to put the appointment in my phone and throw away the card. 

And then I've got one more Facebook cliche that I'd like to shed light on. Suddenly, every mom wants "time to stand still." Yes, the kids are cute in still photos and yes, they do seem to grow up quickly. I get it. But the other day I saw someone wish her "sweet" eleven year old son a happy birthday and she added #timepleasestop 

You want to make someone stay an eleven year old boy forever? That is just cruel. 

And since this blog is such a jumbled mess, I just want to say #timepleasekeepgoing

Stay Sweet

I have a little game I like to play:

Whenever I am perusing Facebook and see a birthday message for a kid, I try to see if the poster can possibly wish their child a happy birthday without calling him or her "sweet."

So far, no one has done it. Everyone MUST describe their child as sweet. They can't help it. Sometimes they throw in other adjectives like kind, caring, amazing. But never do they leave out sweet.

And this perplexes me. One because my own kids are anything but sweet. Second, my experience with other kids is that they too are not sweet. Sometimes I actually know the kid who has so sweetly survived another year of life. And I think to myself, "That brat? Sweet? Really? That's the best word you could come up with? I could come up with a lot more."

Obviously the adjectives should be positive. I mean, it's the kid's birthday. And probably, he or she does have some redeeming qualities. I usually use clever, creative and funny to describe Leo in such posts. But if I was being totally honest, I would have to add whiny, short-tempered and annoying:

Happy Birthday to my first born, Leo--we love you because you are clever, whiny, creative, short-tempered, funny and annoying! #timeflies #blessed 


But back to those sweet kids. I have two theories. Their parents are either:

1. Lying
2. Completely unoriginal


If they're lying, I think they don't even know it. I think, in the moment, they actually believe their kids are sweet. They think back to the one time the kid said, "I wuv you, mommy" and forget about all the "I hate yous."

And if it's the second, well whaddya gonna do? That's just me being a word snob.

Or perhaps, there are actually a few sweet kids out there. My niece Ellie can be sweet. She once offered to carry my things in from the car for me. I let her hold my phone as a thank you. Two minutes later she gave it back to me. I'm still in shock. But that's not so much sweet as it is un-freaking-believeable.

Even if one of my kids miraculously becomes sweet, I'm still going to avoid that adjective:

Happy Birthday to Gus--we love you because you are feisty, smart, violent, adorable and so darn lazy that you'd rather poop your pants than go to the potty. #youdontsmellsweet 

FIRST Day of FIRST Grade

We've got another first day of school in the books. There will be lots more but this was a cool one because it's got the word "first" two times in its title! 

Leo had a good attitude about going to first grade. And why shouldn't he? He goes to the sweetest school (Sweet Apple Elementary!), he has the best teacher and he gets to ride the bus again. 

It also helps that he has no concept of time, which helps. Like last year in Kindergarten, he would tell me that his day went like this: "We get there, we go to our specials, have lunch, recess, rest time, go home." Sounds pretty good, right? No reading, writing, math? 

Last year he went to lunch at 10:30. This year it's 12:12. I asked him if lunch feels later in first grade and he said he was pretty sure it was at the same time as last year. 

Here is a photo dump from this morning's send-off: 

Very pleased he agreed to wear a shirt that doesn't have a picture and non-track shorts! This will be the last time. 

 Thanks, Grandmother, for the cool lunch box!

Seeing Mickey the dog and friends at the bus stop was fun!

He and his good buddy Owen sat in the first row again. Don't they know first graders can move back a little?!

We celebrated a good first day of school with John and Tyler at Menchie's. I don't have any pics of that but think same outfits, more mess.

Here's hoping he has a 180 more days like this one!

Gus, Fighting for Jesus

Last night while trying to get the boys bathed and into bed, Gus threw a fit. He was in the bathroom using the potty and Frank checked on him a couple of times--"Gus, are you done? Are you ready to get in the bathtub?" and "Gus, it's your turn in the bath!" Both were met with screams of "I NEED PRIVACY!!" 

When he finally emerged, he was crying and screaming: 

"Why did Daddy keep checking on me?!! Why wouldn't Daddy leave me alone? I wanted privacy!!" 

And then he said one of the best things ever: 

"OH, I GUESS DADDY DOESN'T LOVE JESUS!!" 

How could we be expected to keep straight faces after that? We couldn't. So through a crooked smile I said, "Of course Daddy loves Jesus." And then Frank crouched down to Gus' level as he said, "I totally love Jesus!" while trying not to laugh. 

Later, during another fit over teeth brushing (he was tired from a long day of suburban summer activities) he again questioned Frank's commitment to the Son of God: 

"DADDY, WHY DON'T YOU LOVE JESUS?" he yelled. 

To that, we just said, "Go to bed." 

And then Frank had to go to confession. "Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I did not respect my 4-year-old's wishes for privacy and I told him he couldn't brush his teeth with his magic timer app. So I guess that means I don't love Jesus--because I understand from my four year old that He is really into privacy and iPads." 

Hairy Scary

2015--the year my hair broke. I hate to blame my hair stylist because she really is a lovely person. And I do enjoy our chats. But I think she may be the one who broke my hair. See, soon after I went in for a cut/color in January, my hair started doing funky things. Like, if I put it in a pony tail, these pieces would all stick up. So I started wearing a headband with pony tails--all the time.

Then I noticed that, even when my hair was down, there were all these wispy hairs…I thought it was just new growth. But then I realized it was like a whole section of hair that was shorter on the top of my head. Like think about this guy from the Three Stooges:

That is how that one section of my hair looks. The difference is I have longer hair under it. As Thea put it, it looks like I have hair extensions--bad hair extensions. I showed it to my friend's mom who used to be a hair stylist and she said what I feared--that my hair dresser had probably pulled the foils out too hard when coloring my hair and broke my hair. So it's not new growth. It's broken hair. 

The worst is right in front. It looks like I cut bangs. But I would never cut bangs because I know the heartache of growing them out.  I am going through that heartache now but I didn't cut bangs; I broke bangs! Look what happens when I wear sunglasses: 

And when I straighten a piece from the broken section!

And when I just leave it!

I've resorted to putting a bobby pin in this random place to hold back the broken hair. 

Now all of these are first world problems, I know. I can manage. I can gel it and bobby pin it and wear a big sombrero if necessary. But here's the part where it gets really, really freaky.

WHEN I PUT IT IN A PONY TAIL!!

That's my hair, y'all! My broken, Three Stooges, hair!

So for now I'm just doing a deep conditioning once a week, making do with my different hair accessories and staying far away from the hair stylist.

But my 20 year high school reunion is coming up! Frank, who is equally disturbed by my hair, says I'll have to find some hair help before that. But I don't think even Vidal Sassoon himself (if he were alive) or Jessica Simpson's awesome hair extensions could save me now. I will just have to wait it out--wait until my choppy, broken hair grows out.

And if it doesn't happen before my reunion, I'll just be the goofy girl in the sombrero.