In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

Pretty sure Bilbo is sporting a light
saber in his hair.

I made what will probably turn out to be a very bad mommy desicion last night. Actually, I made it a week ago, but last night is really the part that counts. In the long run, I think it'll work out, but at the moment, I've got one very tired 3rd grader on my hands.

I took my kid to see the 12:01 showing of The Hobbit. The 12:01 A.M. showing. As in it lasted three hours and we got home at four o'clock in the morning. And then I had to pry him off the ceiling and try to force him to go to sleep. Because he had school today.

Yes. I am that mom.

Today I've had several people ask me what I thought about the movie, and if they should let their kids see it. It's a tough call. Each family is different, and each kid is different. I doubt I would've even thought to take my oldest kid to a midnight showing of any movie, much less something with "extended sequences of intense fantasy action violence, and frightening images." (MPAA)

We've become much more relaxed about what our younger kids get to see and do, especially as they all start getting a little older. The Doctor and I do spend time talking through these decisions, though. The one time we didn't, and our kids watched a movie we hadn't checked out in advance, it didn't end well. At. All. Tater Tot and Doodle are still terrified of dolls with button eyes, and it was at least a year before they could even look at a button without shreiking in terror. Thanks, Tim Burton.

This is one of the times I've made an exception to my rule of watching the movie (or reading numerous reviews and spoilers) before I let any of the kids see it. I based my decision on several factors:

1. Previous experience. Doodle has seen most of the LOTR movies. We let the kids watch all three of the movies, and we used a little judicious eye covering and muting of the sound at a few of the more intense scenes. (Muting those ominous soundtracks can make a scene a lot less frightening.) We talked about the movies before and after. And, sitting down and watching with them led to some great discussions over the following weeks and months.
2. How do they handle the line between fantasy and reality? Tater Tot isn't quite old enough to wrap her brain around the fact that this stuff is not real. Though she says she understands, seeing and saying are two totally different concepts, and many seven year olds just aren't there yet. Doodle, on the other hand, can separate the fact from the fiction. He can step back from what it is that he's seeing up on the screen. Being able to remove himself from the story is important.
3. Is there a point to it? This particular movie is a fantastic story, and it's a wonderful journey that our family has been on for several years now. There is violence and some scary scenes, but the violence isn't gratuitous. The mayhem is there, but it isn't over the top. And the story is one that lends itself to all sorts of wonderful life lessons, discussions of right vs. wrong, what it is to show courage, etc. Watching Bilbo make the decision to choose courage and loyalty over the comfort of his armchair is a lesson that sticks in a kid's head.
4. What do people that I trust have to say about it? My first stop for checking out a movie is almost always the great website Common Sense Media. This is a thorough, easy to navigate site dedicated to helping parents make informed decisions about the media that's available to our kids. It covers movies, games, books, and websites. And though I always reference this site, I also ask around to see what other people have to say. Hearing from other moms and dads is a great way to hear the stuff that the reviews aren't going to tell you.
5. Did they earn it? My kids have to earn these sorts of things. If Doodle spends the week nagging me about seeing a movie, tormenting his siblings (unreasonably...), or failing to get his work and chores done, the movie isn't going to happen. Part of getting to responsibly watch a movie is showing that you can be responsible. 

Cannot contain the excitement.

Ok, so all that said, here's my opinion. This is a great movie. It's epic, to quote Doodle. It definitely has several intense scenes. And while most of the movie is totally fine, there are a couple of spots where I covered Doodle's eyes. It wasn't gratuitously violent, but there are several scenes where the orcs and goblins are gross and gruesome looking. Monsters get their heads and limbs chopped off, and in one scene, the dwarf king is killed (implied, not shown), and his head is held up by a creepy looking orc. Not something for a sensitive kid to see. 

If you're waffling on whether or not The Hobbit is something you should take your kiddo to see in the theater, I'd recommend watching it yourself first. (I'd certainly not mind seeing it twice.) Or, wait for it to come out on DVD. While it's tough to say no to those big pleading eyes and sweet faces, seeing this stuff up on the big screen, larger than life, also adds a level of intensity.


Plus, pausing and fast forwarding is significantly easier to manage from the comfort of your own couch. I know this from experience. There are no potty breaks when you're at the theater.

Back To School Time Always Makes Me Sad, or Not...

So everyone has been posting back-to-school pics of their kids on Facebook recently, They're all so cute, and the kids are all spiffed up and clean looking. Most importantly, they all look so happy and excited! Yay! It's time for school again!

My kids aren't like that.

Just so you don't get the wrong idea, my kids do like school. Mostly. It's just the whole concept of putting on clothes, and shoes, and bathing regularly, and doing homework that throws them. Also, at school, it's generally frowned upon if you blow something up, draw murals on walls, or try out a new concoction recipe in the microwave.

I also frown upon those sorts of things, but when an MS flair up hits and I'm conked out in bed, whoever has the conch shell rules the roost. (Literary reference, FTW.)

This was my attempt at getting a back-to-school pic of my kids.

We are so very thrilled.

Doodle is asking BG what face he's planning for the next pic.

Totally insincere smile from Tater.

This is the point when I start offering bribes. It doesn't work.

Yep. So thrilled.

See how happy we are to go to school!!!

Much sighing and eye rolling.

Kind of sums it all up.

We call it Calvin Syndrome. They look perfectly sweet and innocent until the nanosecond the camera clicks, and then at least one of them makes a bizarre face. They claim it isn't intentional. It does pretty much sum up their back-to-school feelings.

In spite of all the drama, I did post my own back-to-school picture up on Facebook. I think it's the best one I've taken. Ever.

I Slept A Lot

As usual, I had way too many great ideas for this summer, but those pesky little holes in my brain decided that they'd rather spend the days kicking back and chillin'. So instead of spending the summer blowing things up, rambling through magical forests, and exploring parts of the country we've never seen, we've been mostly hanging out here at home doing...

... not very much.

By not very much, I mean we've been making epic messes all over the house, getting up in each others business, not doing laundry and/or dishes, and coming up with new and inventive ways to push each others buttons.

Me, laying in bed at home.

We've had some fun, though. In spite of the fact that I've had to spend most afternoons in bed sleeping while the kids a) helped themselves to everything in the kitchen, b) watched whatever they wanted on Netflix, c) videotaped me snuffling and drooling in my sleep, and d) pilfered my purse and jewelry box, we've still managed to squeeze in a few outings.

I'll elaborate more in future posts about our totally awesome trip to Eastern Washington, our trips to the zoo, and our other attempts at torturing the kids into actually getting out and enjoying life. (Spoiler alert: If it doesn't involve annoying music, electricity, and brightly colored characters that you control with a magic doohickey, the offspring believe we just might be eligible for Worst Parent Ever status.)

Me, laying in bed on vacation.

So while the vast majority of my stupendous plans for summer have fallen by the wayside, here's a few pics of things we did do:

We baked. A lot. Actually, The Doctor baked. It's his new hobby, and it all turned out great.
Really great.
Sometimes, it turned out a little too great, and it got eviscerated by the kitchen crew before it had a chance to cool.
Chocolate chip Almond Banana Bread. It never had a chance.

We pilfered the local French Bakery to supplement our growing need for baked goods.

We went to the library, but couldn't make it out of the parking lot.
Those books were just that good.

We tormented trained the mice by building elaborate mazes out of stacks of books, paper tubes,
cardboard boxes, and Legos for them to navigate. They figured out how to jump over the top about ten
seconds in, so I'd say they trained us pretty good, too.

We went out in public looking like this. A lot. We also wore our PJs out in public. A lot.

We ate a lot of breffy and dessert foods for dinner. Strawberry Shortcake, anyone?

We went to the Zoo with our buds. We also lost the baby, but we're not talking about that little incident.
We did find her again. Later. And she wasn't even in any of the animal pens.

We got really into baking as a result of watching too much Cake Boss.
Cake decorating looks a lot easier when you have a camera crew to edit out the mess.

We went kayaking with our pals. And no one even fell in.
You have no idea how jaw dropping that is.

We learned that Doodle has always wanted to try drive the car. By himself.
And also, that he knows where I hide my keys.

We went put-putting in a very, very hot but cute mini golf place.
And there was only a little cheating.
I got called on it though.

We ate The Best Ice Cream Ever at Sheri's in Winthrup. This stuff is so good, I dream about it.
(Which isn't all that unusual; I dream about food every night.)
But, really, it's amazing, homemade, and amazing.

Tater finally grew in her front teeth.

We discovered that everything is better dipped in chocolate. Duh.

We got stared down by the local PD speed trap. I'm pretty sure it's legit.

The kids had fun commandeering my camera...

... and goofing around with it. When they weren't making videos of me sleeping.

We got to have a mini dance par-tay in the middle of the 520 freeway.
Also, this isn't the day The Doctor got stopped by a cop.
Since I'm not supposed to talk about that, I thought I'd point out that this isn't that day.

We worked on the garden, and built a fence to keep out the dog.
Which he then promptly learned to jump over.

We went bowling. Where BG proceeded to beat me, and then rub it in.
Repeatedly.
With much enthusiasm.
To the point where I threatened to make him walk home.
It was fun.

We took some walks. Slow walks.
It's hard to walk fast when you keep stopping for photo ops.

We attempted to discover the maximum weight capacity for the floor by taking everything
out of closets, drawers, trunks, etc. and piling it on the floor.
How much weight can this floor hold? A lot.
Experiment status: ongoing.

The kids went on lots and lots of trips around the block. "Talking."
I'm pretty sure scheming is more like it.

We picked some stuff from the garden. And ate it.

Summer isn't over yet, but the end is coming on fast. We may still get around to blowing up a few diet coke bottles, but even if we don't, we've still had some fun. Even if I did sleep through most of it.

At Least I'm Not Wearing The Cone of Shame

So my plan this summer was to post at least once a week on each of my blogs.

Obviously, that hasn't happened.

There are lots of curve balls and challenges zinging around out in the world, and I caught one this month. I don't know why I'm always so surprised when something unexpected pops up. I've been saying not normal is our normal for quite some time now. If I could only just get myself to believe that.

So all my big Summer of Science experiment plans, outings to add posts to our Kayak Love blog, and my more frequent updating on this blog have been put on hold for the time being.


I blame the MS. And this time, it really is my MS's fault.

I'm having a flair up at the moment. As exciting as something called a flair sounds, it really isn't my favorite way to spend my time. Flair is bad enough if it's something your boss makes you wear on your apron at work (obscure movie reference). With MS, it really bites.

The yarn on the right: how my brain used to feel. The yarn on the left: how my brain feels these days.

All my past flair ups have meant over the top fatigue, as in I'm in bed for weeks at a time, have to be helped into the bathroom, and I can't stay awake long enough to finish a complete conversation with a goldfish, much less a person. I usually lose the ability to walk properly and I say the most rediculous things.

These last two symptoms are always a big hit with the kids. I'll tell them to do stuff like:

• Please put the dirty clothes into the dishwasher and start it.
• Load those dishes into the toilet.
• Please put those groceries in the dryer for me.
• Go brush your feet and get into bed.
• Go get me a window. I'm thirsty.
•  

They have all sorts of fun since I can't really hop up and chase them around the house. By the time the day is done, I'm usually feeling pretty content about not being able to get out of bed. That way, I don't have to climb over all the piles of tumble dried groceries, steam washed laundry, explosive science experiments, and piles of furniture that mysteriously migrated throughout the house and into the yard.

This time, unlike previous flair ups, I've lost strength on my right side. This is new. I've always been a lefty when it comes to losing control. It's a little disconcerting to suddenly lose my "good side" like that, but there are always worse things. I could suddenly lose my ability to beat the kids at Chinese Checkers, read, knit, or be the best prankster in the family.

So instead of being out having adventures to share, I'm smack in the middle of daily steroid infusions. The last time I did this, it almost killed me. It's been about four years since then, so hopefully, my body will have forgotten about that little disagreement we had. So far, so good.

My infusion entertainment.

The infusion nurses are incredibly lovely, and have gone above and beyond to try to create a spa atmosphere in the hospital for those of us lucky enough to get to spend time with them. I'm might even move in with them. They don't cart loads of sand into my living room, or build mazes out of all the infusion center furniture, making it impossible to get to the bathroom. They bring me drinks, warm blankets, and always laugh at my jokes.

Life could always be worse. At least they don't make me wear the Cone of Shame.

So, hopefully I'll soon be back up and blogging again. But in the meantime, thanks for all the prayers, the encouragement, and the patience. I miss the chaos, the adventure, and I miss getting to share it with you. Because insanity is always better when you spread around.

How my days look right now.

 P.S. My ever loving husband, The Doctor of All Things Proper Grammar, just pointed out that there is a difference between flair and flare, and that apparently I am using them wrong. To which I say, "Deal with it. I have holes in my brain. And possibly in my spine as well. So I can use words however I want. Neiner neiner."

He loves it when I use big words like that.

Also, he loves it when I use less and fewer interchangeably, or when I smoosh two words together to make up fancy new words. I'm blaming the MS for that. It has absolutely nothing to do with how his face gets all squinchey.

The Little Red Hen Goes Berry Pickin'

 When I was five or six, my preschool did a stage production of The Little Red Hen. It was a stellar production, and the acting was incredible. Broadway worthy, I'm sure. Anyway, my point is that I know all about the Little Red Hen. Or I thought I did. Today, though... Today, I lived it. Today, I became one with the Hen.

Tater and The Doctor love cooking almost as much as they like looking good.

We have many chefs, bakers, and foodies in our family. Everyone in this house knows their way around the kitchen. When I'm in bed for a week with an MS flair up, you had better be able to fend for yourself because limp veggies from the crisper get pretty old after a few days. Just ask my kids.

 

Big Guy just got busted for eating my berries.

 

Everyone around here likes to eat, too. A lot. A whole lot. In fact, the Big Guy is growing three or four inches a day, and those hollow legs fill up fast. 

Some of my hard earned haul. The rest got eaten when I wasn't looking.

So today, I decided we'd go to the berry picking farm. The idea was that we'd go, pick a ton of berries, and then be livin' la vida strawberries for the next few months. I know this was optimistic of me. Those kids can go through a ton of berries just on the way home. I mean a real ton. Probably.

This swing came from the Garden of Eden, was brought here by the Aztecs, and is endorsed by Chuck Norris.

But instead, the kids found this amazing swing! I say amazing because if I took them to this farm specifically to swing on that swing, it would be the lamest, most boring swing in the history of ever.

So, to recap: I'm planning on a metric ton of strawberries, supplied by my own personal laborers helpers. Shiny, happy swing is the new pied piper. I am picking berries. All by myself. 

What a surprising turn of events.

So the most common comment I heard at the farm? Other parents saying, "Now try to stay out of the mud and dirt. We don't want to get dirty!" This edict was issued to children of all ages, and I finally gave up trying to stifle my snorts. You're on a farm. Picking food. Dirt happens. These are the sorts of things I kept myself entertained with as I picked berries. By myself.

Yep. I'm so dirty and muddy, even the kids are amazed.

 I will say that other moms I was with managed to keep themselves looking pretty fabulous, in spite of the fact that they were crawling around in those fields as much as I was. I (as usual) managed to come away looking like I'd been mud wrestling someone's prize hog. Picking twenty pounds of strawberries in a picked over field is hard, grubby work. I've lived it.

Doodle's not too sure about my berries.

 The berries were good though.

Those knees are no where near as grubby as mine.

And everyone had a good time. Mostly. There was the incident with Tater refusing to give up the magic swing, and then trying to fly away with it by swinging high enough to hit the branch overhead. (Note: always identify the location of the nearest ER when venturing out into new territory.)

Red Berries. Red Hen. See the similarities?

And then I had to wash, hull, sort, and process twenty pounds of strawberries. Not big berries. Small ones. A lot of small ones. And, I got to do it all by myself. Just like the Little Red Hen.

This isn't too far off how she looks at the end of every day, really.

 And, I also got to clean everyone up. This part wasn't really all by myself because the kids were involved. But the chasing short people with a garden hose part was all me. The kids were doing the running away part.

Words cannot express the deliciousness.

But then I got to make this for dinner. (All by myself.)

They may look serious...

And I did get to enjoy it with these guys. Even though they didn't help make it.

 

... but they're not.

And, we all had a great day.

Twenty pounds is a lot of strawberries.

 

Now I get to go deal with the other eighteen pounds. By myself. Or maybe I'll just go to bed.

 

 

Strawberry shortcake and homemade whipped cream. Best Dinner Ever.