The Cereal Box Book Report

Neal took his finished book report to school this morning, one day early, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I should have taken a picture because I doubt I will ever see it in one piece again. His assignment was to create a cereal based on the book he read and then design a cereal box.

This would have been one of those assignments that I would have LOVED as a kid. I adored projects. Say the word project--science project, art project, history project, service project--man, I was all over it. I could even make projects out of simple assignments. Once in seventh grade the teacher assigned the class to make a timeline of our parents' lives (ours had been too short). I went home and spent the afternoon, evening and into the night working on a poster-sized timeline complete with pictures, artwork and big block letters detailing every event in my parents' lives (theirs hadn't been too long either, in fact my mother would have been younger than I am today. Oh, that makes me a little depressed).

The next morning, I handed in my huge project while the other kids handed in their time lines on lined notebook paper. They, of course, received full credit. They had indeed completed the assignment. I received full credit and a strange look from my teacher. He looked at me with that strange look the rest of the year. Hey, my science project on baldness that year took second place at the State Science Fair, but that's a story for another time.

So, fast forward about . . . um, several years and my son is assigned the cereal box book report. He has no problem reading the book or writing a report but anything involving scissors, glue, and markers completely alludes the kid. Add to that my perfectionist nature and excitement about projects and we have some serious issues. Last year I had to just turn my back, walk away and let him complete all the book report art projects on his own. His handwriting seriously pains me. This year I pulled out the construction paper, scissors, glue, markers and colored pencils and told him to get busy.

When I came to check his progress, I took one look at his drawing of a . . . he said it was a bear, and taught him how to look up clipart on the computer. And the computer is something the kid understands. With a little help from Microsoft Word, Neal soon had a completed (a little messy) book report. **Sigh**

Then I remember that the school year has just started and we must endure many more book reports and even some Utah history panoramas. One day at a time. One day at a time.

Unlucky Number

My husband and I celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary on Sunday. I use the word "celebrated" quite loosely. In fact, he and a few of our children were sick so we cancelled our babysitter and spent Saturday night at home cleaning up after a stomach bug. I'm generally not superstitious and the number "13" hasn't meant much more to me than the number "12" but after this week (so far) I'm starting to wonder if the entire year is going to be like this.

My husband was starting to feel better on Monday and since he really needed/wanted to get out of the house and I needed to grocery shopping, we decided, rather foolishly, to take the entire family on a grocery-shopping-outing. As soon as I got home from driving the car pool after school, we loaded up the kids in the minivan and I grabbed my carefully organized shopping list and coupons, clipped and matched with the sales at the local grocery store.

We live in the boonies and so I try not to go to the grocery store very often. We were nearly to the store when the little tire warning light flashed and simultaneously we heard/felt the tell-tale signs of a flat tire. My husband pulled into the parking lot of a nearby store (just happened to be an auto parts store) and we set about changing the tire.

My husband works from home and he wears pajama pants about 90% of the time. If he has to go somewhere (other than church) or mow the lawn he puts on jeans. For some reason, he was wearing slacks. Isn't that ironic. The men in my husband's family are not known for their ability to 1. stay calm under pressure  2. work with anything mechanical. (I once watched five of his brothers and nephews stand around and watch another non-related guy put a bed together by himself.) and 3. stay calm while attempting to working with something mechanical.

That being said, I was really really proud of my dear husband. He didn't swear as he knelt on the pavement in his slacks removing the very flat tire while the wind blew and the baby screamed. He didn't throw anything or stomp on anything. I was really really proud that we managed to find the illusive spare tire--let's just say the engineers at Chrysler got very very creative. We got the spare tire on and drove the short distance to the Tire Center at Walmart.

While the helpful, cheerful guys at Walmart got busy fixing our tire, we browsed around Walmart. We should have just done my grocery shopping there and saved time and our sanity, but I had a very carefully planned list that maximized the coupons and the sales at Smith's. The car was finally finished (we had to tell the Walmart tire guys where to put the spare--they'd never seen such a strange place to store a spare) and we continued on to the grocery store two hours after we left home. We should have just turned around and gone home, but we had already driven that far and we do live in the boonies.

Even though I had explained to my dear husband and dear children that we were only getting the items on my carefully planned shopping list, my oldest son never left my right hip. He whined and begged and pleaded for every single thing in the store. He totally threw me off my shopping savvy game and reminded me why I usually go grocery shopping at night after he's already in bed. He so annoyed me that I actually refrained from getting some of the things on my list because he was begging for them. Then, in the check-out line he actually had the audacity to argue with me and the cashier when it turned out that one of the boxes of cereal was too big to be considered in the "buy 4 get . . ." sale. I remembered to give the cashier my coupons but I wasn't aware enough to make sure I was actually getting all the discounts and sales. When I got to the car and checked my receipt I was irritated to see that I should have saved at least another five dollars.

We finally got home and my oldest son spent an hour on the bench in the laundry room. The rest of us had a rushed dinner instead of the good meal we were planning followed by an abbreviated Family Home Evening and the kids went to bed. Finally. My husband and I settled down to watch our Netflix movie together. We got about a third of the way through (far enough to be interested) when the movie started skipping and then wouldn't continue. I took it out to clean it and discovered a crack on the edge of the DVD. And we really missed the tortilla chips we had planned to eat with the homemade salsa we had planned to make but didn't get to because I didn't buy the chips because my son was bugging me.

Tuesday morning we woke up to frost on the lawn and ice in the kids' water table. I picked all the red tomatoes and the peppers on Monday afternoon but I had held off on picking all the green tomatoes. They were ruined. Wasted.

Since it was chilly, I decided to dress Molly in the fall outfit that I bought her several months ago. It just barely fit. Surprised and confused, I checked the tags and discovered that I had purchased the outfit in the three month old size. What had I been thinking? She was three months old when I bought it but surely I would have realized that by the time it got cool enough to wear the outfit, she would already be six months old! We did take some cute pictures of her wearing it but she won't be able to fit her chubby little self in it for long. (You can see more at Cindi Braby Photography Blog.)

And then a salesperson knocked on my door this afternoon. I don't know what possessed me to let her in. She was selling meat. Maybe I was hungry. Whatever reason, I bought the meat. I talked her down over 50% from the "original price" but as soon as I signed the check and she left the house, I felt sick to my stomach. (My husband is giving me a hard time, nicely.) Now, I am just annoyed with myself. Irritated.

Well, at least I do have an adorably cute baby and next time my husband and I need to celebrate and the kids get sick, we'll already have steaks in the freezer. Oh, and I wouldn't want to spend this thirteenth year with anyone but my dear husband. I love you, babe.

Pizza/Pajama Party

Tomorrow, my seven-year-old son gets to have a "Pizza/Pajama Party" at school. The class earned the party with their good behavior (so far) and got to vote on what kind of party they wanted. Apparently, the pizza party tied with the pajama party, so luckily they get to have both. But I'm just wondering--what kind of person/kid votes for a pajama party OVER a pizza party? Yes, I really love pajamas, but instead of food? Come on!

Oh, and I hope we actually remember to have him wear pajamas tomorrow morning. Last year, I got a phone call from a sad boy and I had to make the run back to school with a pair of pajamas. Too bad they weren't the ones he wanted. This event is filed away with the many others I've already racked up as a non-super mom--including the time I forgot to have him wear his Halloween costume to school and the time I forgot to have him take Valentines to his preschool class. How come we never forget these mom-mistakes?

Bad Day Cookies

My husband had a bad day at work yesterday. Since he works from home, I can immediately tell by the stomping that things are not going well. I gave him a hug and listened to him complain, but there wasn't anything I could do to solve the problem at work. So, I baked cookies--really good chocolate chip cookies. When the first batch came out of the oven, I took two gooey cookies and a glass of cold milk upstairs to his office. It took a lot more than two cookies, but eventually he felt better.

We took some more to my son's teacher when we met with her for Parent Teacher Conferences yesterday afternoon. A bribe can never really hurt, right.

Today while I was visiting with the other moms while we waited for our kindergartners, I told them about the cookies (mostly to explain the chocolate stains all over my one-year-old daughter's shirt). My friend related her own story:

Yesterday she helped in her daughter's class. When she was getting ready to leave, her daughter asked if her to stay for lunch. My friend explained that she had to go pick up her kindergartner. Then, her daughter suggested that they meet at the Book Fair later. After picking up her son, my friend met her daughter in the library.

"Are you OK?" she asked her daughter who immediately burst into tears and begged to go home from school early. My friend insisted that her daughter stay at school but suggested that they make cookies when she got home. So, that afternoon they baked their famous, delicious and favorite frosted sugar cookies. The day was saved.

Well, when I discovered that she had a good recipe for sugar cookies, I was delighted. I've been searching for a good one for years and have been thus far disappointed. Would she mind sharing her recipe?

This afternoon, the door bell woke me up from my nap (yes, I got one today!) and there on the front porch was my friend and her daughter with a tin full of cookies AND the recipe! I would have given her some of our chocolate chip cookies but, um, we already ate them all. Anyway, the cookies were as delicious as she said but I can't share her recipe because she swore me to secrecy.

However, I will share our favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe and hopefully they can help you out of a bad day.

Best Ever Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 1/2 cups butter
1 1/4 cups white sugar
1 1/4 cups packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 eggs
4 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups chocolate chips

Directions:
1. Preheat over to 350 degrees F.
2. In a large bowl, cream together butter, white sugar and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. In a separate bowl, mix together flour, baking soda and salt. Add to egg mixture and mix well. Stir in chocolate chips. Roll cookies into balls and place them on a cookie sheet.
3. Bake in preheated oven for 8 to 10 minutes or until light brown. Cool on a wire rack.

Store cookies in an air-tight container to keep soft and fresh.

Sheets and Shoes

My six year old son threw up in his bed last night. This event is definitely one of the special joys for a mom. We seem to have had more than our share recently. This undesirable situation was made worse because the only twin size sheet that I could find at three in the morning was pink. My son completely freaked out at the prospect of sleeping on a pink sheet. It took me another ten minutes to calm him down and convince him that he could actually sleep for the rest of the night on a pink sheet. I'm not sure he was convinced. I think he gave up out of sheer exhaustion.

My son's tantrum about the sheet wasn't just because it was pink. (Although, what boy/man really wants to sleep on a pink sheet?) He was really upset because it was different. He's pretty particular about his bed. He's been sleeping with the same style of navy blue jersey sheet purchased only at JCPenney since he moved out of the crib and got a big boy bed. He found something that he liked--it was familiar--and he didn't want anyone to mess with it.

It's not exactly his fault. He comes by it honestly. Take his shoes, for example. When I bought him his first pair of shoes as a one year old, I got him a pair of blue/gray/orange Sketchers. They were comfortable, cute, versatile and they held up well to the messy play of a toddler. So, when he grew out of them, I bought him another pair in the next size. And when he grew out of those, I bought him another pair. A few years later, when the store informed me that that style was being discontinued, I bought three pairs in the next three sizes. (So glad to discover that they really didn't discontinue that style and my two year old son now wears the same ones.) Now, my son has out grown his shoes and it's time to go buy him new ones. He no longer fits into the little-boy shoe sizes. We're going to have to consider a different style. This makes me nervous. Because really, when you find a good thing, why change?

Smarty Pants

At dinner last night, we were discussing how smart our kids are. We talked about how our two year old is learning his letters and numbers and his colors and shapes. We mentioned how our four year old is learning to read.

My six year old son interrupted. "And I can already read and most six year olds are just learning to read. We are a smart family." He paused, then continued. "At least the kids are."

Um, thanks.

Whiney Ears

This morning as I was fixing breakfast for my children, my four year old daughter's mouth was moving but I couldn't hear a word she was saying. I couldn't figure out what was wrong and then suddenly I remembered.

"I'm sorry, darling. I forgot to renew the subscription for my whiney ears. I can't hear any whiney voices any more," I told her. She looked at me like I was crazy. Her lips kept moving and her brow was furrowed but still I couldn't hear anything. It was lovely.

About five minutes later, she came to me and in a very pleasant voice asked "May I have some Frosted Flakes and milk please?" I heard every word.

"Wow! You used a really nice voice. I could actually hear and understand you. Thank you," I said.

My husband, observing the situation, thought this was wonderful. "Be careful," I told him, "my subscription for complaining ears runs out next week."