trunk-or-treat

Coming up with a costume for Max was difficult because he is scared of, well, everything. These are the rules I made for his costume: 1. something happy (not scary) 2. something he could recognize or relate to, and 3. something homemade. I drew inspiration from his all-time favorite book series. Only a couple people at our church trunk-or-treat were able to figure it out.
I thought about making Ian's costume, but I knew the sweat shops in China could do a much better, more cost effective job. The $15 I paid at Old Navy wouldn't have even covered the supplies. Can you tell who they are supposed to be?
At the last minute I was feeling guilty for not dressing up. About 15 minutes before we left I fashioned myself a halloween shirt by cutting out a crow and ironing it on a black t-shirt. Next year I'll dress up. Maybe.

Happy Halloween!

p.s. now that my little family is old enough to celebrate halloween i have been racking my brain trying to come up with some fun halloween traditions. i'm stumped. what are some fun things your family does for halloween?

halloween

I have never decorated for halloween. Not once. Then I turned 30 (ouch!). I lost my mind. I went overboard. I turned my house into a halloween shrine. My children love it. My husband just rolls his eyes. Then he says "you're gonna take this all down when halloween is over, right?" He seems genuinely worried. Maybe he should be. I could be going senile at this ripe old age.

This all started when J-P abandoned us. While he was studying at Duke for 8 miserably long days, I was passing the time (you know, because I had SO much extra time as a single mom) making halloween decorations. Creating lollipop ghosts and scary silhouettes proved to be very therapeutic. Who knew.Here is a (not so) scary crow garland I made. Below are some fabulous velvet pumpkins (with real stems!) that my friend Kim made for my birthday/halloween. I love them. Thank you, they go perfectly in the halloween explosion that is my house and will most definitely be hanging around through thanksgiving.p.s. you can check out more pics on flickr.

Orson Scott Card

I didn't know Orson Scott Card was born in Richland, WA...and I didn't know he is a democrat. I do know that J-P loves him almost as much as Louis L'amour. Here is an interesting article he wrote. Thanks for posting it Whitney.

zoologico

Yesterday we took a trip to the zoo to see if Max is still scared of goats. We can safely upgrade his condition from scared to terrified. Perhaps petrified...maybe immobilized? A friendly zookeeper tried to help him pet a sleeping goat and he lost it. Worse than Disneyland. Worse than he ever has. We might be taking him to therapy for post-traumatic stress.

We treated the tears with some splashing in the water park. Both boys had a blast. Ian has no fear. Max has (more than?) a healthy amount. When Max woke up this morning he rubbed his eyes and said "mommy...(yawn) max a scared a goats." Poor boy probably had nightmares.

sunday in pictures

I can't keep my boys out of the fridge. Or the the pantry. You can see Max pouting on the floor after I pulled him out. No smiles in these pics as both boys were OVERDUE for naps. Ian is finally walking (of his own free will). He has been a bridge-the-gap walker for a few weeks, walking only when there are no walls or furniture to hold on to. Now he is letting go and venturing into wide open spaces. Brave boy. It's a rough world out there.

messes by max

Max's morning schedule:

8:00 a.m.-making floor art with barley (while mom feeds the baby).
8:05 a.m.- drawing all over the walls with a ball point pen (while mom sweeps up the barley).
8:10 a.m.- dumping out tortilla chips and dancing on them until they are sufficiently crumbled (while mom changes the baby's diaper).
8:15 a.m.- getting strapped in the car by a frustrated mom to go to the store (because if he manages to make a mess at the store they have to clean it up, not me).

The afternoon went better. Max played in his sandbox while the baby napped and mom watered the garden. Unfortunately Ian is down to one nap a day, and it does not overlap with Max's nap. This gives me no time to plan my black and white halloween party, make costumes, or mail halloween cards to Max's four grandmas. I have made it a tradition to mail cards with photos to the grandmas (who all live far away) every holiday. I usually buy them (from the dollar bin at Target), but decided to make them this time around. More evidence of my black and white obsession, I suppose.

shoplifting

The first time I shoplifted I was in the 7th grade. I was at the mall with my friends, and we were chatting and perusing the jewelry at Claire's Boutique. We left and headed to The Bon Marche (now macy's). I reached out to inspect a shirt and noticed I still had a bracelet from Claire's on my wrist. I almost threw up. My larger-than-life conscience propelled me (in a sweating tizzy) back to Claire's where I discreetly restored the bracelet to its spot on the rack.

Now Max and I shoplift on a regular basis. Max gets his shoplifting gene from his father (sorry to out you honey), who, as a child, spent time in jail for stealing candy from the local convenience store (it was a small town). Max always manages to grab things off the shelf and hide them until we get to the car. Last summer I made several trips back into walmart after finding not-paid-for goods on Max's person. For some reason I never discovered the booty until after I had already loaded the groceries into the sweltering car. Pregnant and sweating up a storm, I jogged back inside each time with Max on my hip. "Do you have a return?", the greeter would routinely ask. I loved to see the shock on their face when I replied "no, we stole this..." as I rushed past them to pay for the bar of soap or bag of chocolate chips that Max managed to make off with.

Today Max shoplifted a foam owl visor from Joann's. I let him wear it around the store because it kept him quiet. He wore it right through the check-out, without the cashier noticing the big Joann's tag hanging off the side. I made it almost all the way to the car before I realized our crime and rushed back in to fork over $1.09 including tax.

creative outlet

Cooking has always been my creative outlet. I stayed in the cooking dorms my freshman year of college because I knew cooking my own meals would provide much needed satisfaction and stress relief. It did. All through college I dreamed of dropping out and going to culinary arts school. I also started a ridiculously large collection of cookbooks.

My life changed dramatically a little more than a year ago. Allergy tests confirmed that Max is allergic to wheat, dairy, eggs, and nuts. I threw my beloved peanut butter away. I learned VERY quickly that it is impossible to cook without wheat, dairy, and eggs. Impossible, that is, to cook anything that tastes good. I no longer cook for enjoyment. I cook for survival.

Now that my cookbooks are collecting dust in their permanently closed position, I have been in search of a new creative outlet. I am not crafty. I don't scrapbook. I don't have time to take a photography class. I do, however, have a new sewing machine. I finally pulled it out today. I decided to start making Christmas ornaments. I plan on adorning my tree in soft, child-friendly ornaments for the next few holiday seasons so as to minimize my holiday stress level. My first attempt: matryoshka dolls. I made them out of a toddler dress I found at a thrift store (that makes them cheap and environmentally friendly, right?). Next on the agenda: owls.

weekend pics

It went from summer to winter overnight. Our house got down to 74 degrees last night and I almost froze to death. I woke up shivering. It's amazing that we go from sweating through the night in an 80+ degree house to breaking out the down comforter in one day. It almost feels scandalous, like someone robbed us of our warm weather.

While most people are raking fall leaves, we are power raking (pulverizing?) our grass so that we can plant winter grass. One of the things I love about Arizona is being able to look at green grass year round. Although ours isn't always that green (I've vetoed J-P's attempts to fertilize...if they use it to make bombs, it's probably not healthy for my grass-eating lads).
Max decided he wanted to help rake the grass. He kept saying things like "Max a rake a grass, daddy...there, all nice and clean daddy...Max a rake a grass, just like daddy." Ian got his first taste of dirt. He didn't like it.

disneylandia

I've been dreaming about taking Max to Disneyland since the day I found out he was growing inside of me. I visited the magic kingdom every year during my childhood, and it filled me with uncontainable excitement . For me, it truly was the happiest place on earth.

For Max...not so much. He cried about a gallon of tears. He was terrified of all of the characters and most of the rides. He tugged on us the whole day and said things like "how about a go home now...", "mommy, turn the light on!!" (during dark rides), "Max a scared, mommy."

Ian loved it and didn't stop pointing, yelling, and dancing the whole day. Watching him go crazy in the Tiki room made the whole trip worthwhile. Hopefully his enthusiasm will rub off on the firstborn.

We had a fantastic time catching up with friends, cousins, and watching general conference with Nona. Ian watched it a little too close. He LOVES TV. Max is in love with Nona (his great grandma), and hasn't stopped talking about her since we got home. His new favorite phrase (blurted out at random throughout the day): "How about go a Nona's house?" I respond with: "We'll go to Nona's house another day." "Uh, how about go a Nona's house another day, mommy?", he continues...and then changes the subject to the whereabouts of the garbage truck.