Halloween Dreams

28 03 2008

Last night, I was showing the kids my blog and we came upon the photo of Colby playing the piano with the caption, “Liberace, look out!”

Zack read the caption incorrectly–“Liber-ace” instead of “Liber-achie”.

When I corrected him, he said, “Oh! Liberace! Sister B. said I looked like Liberace when I wore my cape to piano lessons.”

Zack loves his piano teacher. He always brings something to show her–a LEGO car, a paper airplane, a book he’s reading. The time he was referring to he had worn his dress up cape to lessons. I made it for him out of dark green velvet with a silver frog clasp at the top. Eden has a couple of princess dresses, so I thought I would make Zack something easy to wear to play with her as a knight or king or other some-such.

“Who’s Liberace?” Zack asked.

I told him he was a really flashy piano player and we decided to look for Liberace pictures on the computer so I could show him. As google was searching, Zack said, “Maybe I can be Liberace for Halloween!”

Can you imagine?

I about died laughing. I told Zack, “That would be SO funny. But I don’t think any kids would get it. Maybe the adults would, though.”

We had a hard enough time explaining his decision to be “Tonka Joe” a couple of years ago. Nobody, aside from a very small handful, had ever heard of Tonka Joe. But Zack was happy.

Granted, more people have heard of Liberace . . .

It’s definitely creepy. That’s for sure.


25 03 2008

As I was blog-surfing the other day, I read someone’s blog about their traditional Easter dinner and it said, “And, of course, deviled eggs.”

I thought, “Deviled eggs? Since when is that part of Easter dinner?”

It took awhile for me to make the connection between deviled eggs and dying eggs (yes, Ty, salute me) probably because we would never actually eat the eggs we dyed.


We, as any all-American family would do, launched them off of our back deck with a giant slingshot.

My brothers rigged up a water-balloon launcher using surgical tube (isn’t surgical tube just the greatest?! If you’re not sure what I’m talking about I’ll just say two words: water weenies.) and a six-inch piece of a leg of jeans. In subsequent trials, eggs became the missle of choice, being much more environmentally friendly. (Although, there was that one instance from the roof of Taco Time when water balloons were used, but that’s another story all together. Not mine, either.)

My mom used to boil dozens of eggs and we’d spend a couple of hours designing and dying our eggs. And then launching them, of course.

One year, when my brother was on his mission in Denmark, we made a special egg just for him and launched it in his honor. Didn’t quite make it that far, but at least it went in the right direction. I think.

Anyway, we had our egg party on Sunday this year because I was still pretty wiped out from the candy hunt to do it Saturday night. I apparently need to boil more eggs next year because the kids were done in about ten minutes and all I got to do was one measly egg. When I said the eggs were gone, the kids re-dunked and tried to come up with the best mixed color–think “suicide” at the soda fountain.
This is my favorite egg. Eden made it for her daddy, and took special care getting the rainbow just right.

So eggs aren’t exactly the reason we celebrate Easter, but it sure is fun to dye them.

We’ll save the launching bit for when this generation gets a little older.

Rainbow Swings

25 03 2008

These three would be more effective if you could view them flip-book style.
Doing the airplane.
Oh, yeah! Swinging is intense!

Candy Hunt

25 03 2008

We have a little candy hunt in our backyard the Saturday before Easter every year. Here are a few photos:

Candy hunting is serious business.

Zack with the neighbor girl.

Comparing hauls.

Eden posing for the group shot.

I found this stack of jelly beans on the computer desk. Apparently none were the flavor they were looking for.

Colby loving Daddy. Aw.

A Special Message for Grandpa A.

25 03 2008

Better than Airplanes

25 03 2008

Rainbow really wants to go to Idaho.

Really, really badly.

She suggested this the other day: “Why don’t we go in a cannonball?”

How accurate is a cannon? I’m thinking we might have some issues with the landing. Hmmm. Is the trampoline up yet?

Better than Dragonland

25 03 2008

DragonTales, if you aren’t lucky enough to have seen it before, is a cartoon where a brother and sister travel to Dragonland whenever they get bored and want to do something fun. In order to get to Dragonland, they touch a dragon scale and chant:

I wish, I wish with all my heart
To fly with dragons in a land apart.

Things get all shimmery, and they end up wherever their dragon friends are in order to have a fifteen minute adventure before going back home.

A couple of days ago, Eden and Rainbow were playing their own version of DragonTales. They made a necklace out of those huge baby beads and I could hear Eden coaching Rainbow, “Make sure you’re touching it!”

Then Rainbow said:

I wish, I wish with all my heart
To fly with dragons all the way to Idaho!

So watch for shimmering in your living rooms, Grandparents!

The Aches of Motherhood

21 03 2008

Two nights ago, Colby woke up at about two a.m. screaming like crazy. I could not for the life of me figure out what was wrong–he didn’t want to eat, he wasn’t wet, he didn’t have a fever–he just kept scratching his head with both hands. And screaming. (That’s how I figured out something was wrong.)

After awhile, he finally calmed down, and he and I spent the rest of the night on the couch. Don’t get me wrong, I like snuggling with my baby as much as the next person, but I had stayed up WAY too late the night before finishing a book so I was already pretty sleep-deprived. Stan reminded me that Colby won’t be a baby forever, and to just enjoy it while I still can.

Well, last night before I went to bed, I noticed I was having some back pain. I started doing some back-strengthening exercises about a week ago because I feel like my posture is going to pot, so I assumed the soreness was from that. My assumption was disproved when Colby again woke up screaming (although not until almost six this time). We headed downstairs with Stan’s reminder in my brain, and snuggled down on the couch.


Apparently, it wasn’t so much the back exercises that were making me sore, but sleeping with a 20+ pound weight on my chest.

And what a cute little weight he is.

Can I get lamer?

19 03 2008

I was just picking some stuff up around the house (Easter eggs, mostly, which is why I refuse to get them out until a week before the day) thinking about my last post, and realizing how idiotic I am.

Being completely honest with myself, I realized that, in posting that last thing, I really just wanted people to comment and tell me how cool they think I am. Is that pathetic or what? I really hope my self-worth isn’t dependent on this blog, or I am in for some serious depression.

I may not be cool, but I am a worthwhile person. I do good things. I love a lot of people. I have people who love me. In other words, I am okay.

Please feel free not to comment.

I’m NOT cooler than you. Huh.

19 03 2008

My brother used to have this sticker on his wallet, and whenever I’d say something lame he’d flash it at me–“I’m cooler than you.”

Since then, it has been kind of a catch phrase for us.

But today, as I was wasting time blog-hopping (you can almost go forever!) and reading blogs of people I know from times and places long ago–amazing people, all of them, filled with insight and humor and wisdom and coolness–well, I realized something.

I’m pretty much a dork and my blog is super-lame.

And, in fact, I’m not cooler than anyone. Go figure.