First Edition of "Ask Noah"

I had this idea, since my eight-year-old thinks he knows more than most adults (and he might in some cases) to ask him about world issues from time to time. I was going to call it "Ask the Eight-Year-Old" but I would have to change the title of the series every time he has a birthday. Hence, "Ask Noah" was born. I will also try an "Ask Zoe" but I am not sure how that will got since she can barely sit in one place long enough to go potty (She's four). Additionally, if you have any question you would like me to present to either of them, please send them to me and, as long as they are appropriate, I will pass them along. Buckle in, here we go...

1. The Texas Rangers were one strike away from winning the World Series in game 6, but choked and let the Cardinals win that game and ultimately the whole series. What do you think they could have done better?

Umm.. they could have WON!

2.Do y'all ever talk about current events at school? If so, what is something you have recently discussed?

Yes, we get Time Magazine for Kids. This week, we discussed the top 5 places to spend Halloween, diseases in bats and floods in Thailand.

What do you think about the floods in Thailand?

I think we need to build them more flood walls and see if that will help. They will have to give the people that have lost their homes shelter and help them build new homes. I feel very sad for the families- maybe there is an eight-year-old boy over like me whose family has lost their home.

3.**While looking at the copy of this week's "Time for Kids" he has fished out of his backpack: What do you think about this article suggesting schools should require students to pack eco-friendly lunches with less disposable waste?

I think yes and no. Yes because it will get rid of all the waste and we could keep our land beautiful and nice. No, because parents shouldn't have to spend money on reusable plastic containers if they can't afford them. Those things are sort of expensive.

You already have a reusable lunchbox and sandwich container, would you like to convert to completely eco-friendly and take a reusable water bottle and keep everything baggie-free?

Well, yes. But, sometimes I really want some chocolate milk or a juice box. So.. maybe.. no?

4. Recently, a woman got on a bus in Brooklyn run by an Orthodox Jewish bus company. Because of the beliefs of the Orthodox Jews, the bus is segregated and the women must sit in the back. They open the bus up to the public though and a woman that was not a believer got on the bus and was told she needed to move to the back. When she refused, the driver refused to drive until she moved to the back. What do you think about that?

Wow- I did not know that. That is like Rosa Parks all over again. We have different beliefs than others, but if they are going to let people with different beliefs on their bus, they need to let them sit where they want. If I got on a bus and was told I couldn't sit where I wanted, I would punch the driver.

And now, just because I felt I had to include her- a question for Zoe:

Zoe, what happened to Baby Lisa?

Did she used to be in my room? Is that the little girl with the red on? I think she's in my closet. I need to find her.

Frustrating Waste of Time #853,782

While getting Zoe ready for school yesterday morning, she decided to throw me a curve ball. Instead of the usual requests for her hair, she ran to her room and brought me back this picture:

I studied it, gathered hair bands, bobby pins and hairspray and went to work. This was the result:

I was very proud of myself, but she reached back to feel it and was unsure. I snapped the above photo with my phone so that she could see what it looked like and, certain that she would love it, I handed her my phone. She took one look and burst into tears.

"Everyone will laugh at me!!!", she wailed. I tried to dissect the photo and explain how it looked exactly like the picture she brought me. I told her ballerinas wore their hair like that. But she was having none of it.

I disassembled all the bobby pins, brushed out the hairspray and then I put it in a ponytail, braided it and left it hanging down her back. She was satisfied.

And I was exhausted- all before 9am.

The Neighborhood Bullies

They only come out at certain times. They travel in packs and sit outside your house and taunt you. Fed up, you run them off and as soon as you close the blinds, they come right back. They hold you prisoner in your home. When you step out, they threaten to encircle you and take you down. You fend them off with a big stick, but they can easily overwhelm you.

Most days, you carry on, ignoring them and not letting them get to you, but there are the days they break your spirit. You see them outside your door, taunting you with their very presence, and you feel defeated. You want to shut the door and the blinds and settle in on the couch with a hot cup of tea (or a toddy) and let them win.

But the reality is- no one will do the hard work but you. You must be the one to make them go away. It's time to put on your big girl pants, grab the big stick and go out and confront them head-on.

IT'S TIME TO RAKE THE LEAVES!!

(Noah-15 months)

(spring leaf cleanup-Spring 2011)

Guest Post- "Chaos at Camp"

I am very excited to announce that I have a guest-poster today. I can't really call him a "guest blogger" because he isn't a blogger. The person I am referring to is my eight-year-old son, Noah.

Noah's homework the other day was to write a paragraph including his "no excuse" words for the week- children, form, until, food, important, keep and going. Noah wrote a story. It came home in his folder Friday with "Wow! I love this!" and "You're a great writer!" written on it. This is a big deal, because Noah rarely applies himself. He always just does the bare minimum required of him to get by, so to go above and beyond and to be recognized for it is a big deal.

We wanted to encourage him, so we said we would scan it and send it to our family members and I told him I would put it on my blog. As much as I am itching to correct some things.. I won't. I will type this exactly as he wrote it- grammar, syntax, spelling errors and all. For an eight-year-old, I still think he did a wonderful job!

Chaos at Camp

The children at camp had to fill out a form to not be kicked out of camp. One kid thought that if you do not sign the form and you get kicked out of camp that you actually physically get kicked. He started to bawl saying unclearly, "I-I do-on't want t-to get kicke-ed." Mr. Mos the camp leader stared at the kid on the floor for a few seconds, then he called his mom. The kid cried until he saw his mom, the kid's name was Gorge. Gorge yelled "Mommy!" Gorge's mom said that if he keeps crying he will not have fast food. Mr. Mos looked at her with joy for making Gorge stop crying. After a few seconds Mr. Mos returned to what he was doing. Gorge heard Mr. Mos saying, "Welcome to survival class you all know why survival is important." Gorge told his mom "I no keep crying... I'm not going to continue." And he returned to his group.

I was impressed with his sentence structure, his use of complex sentences and most of all, with how he simulated Gorge's crying by typing out the quote as if her were stuttering." Perhaps I am just a proud momma, but it is my blog and I can show him off if I want to. ;-)

The Day I Faced Death While My Husband Sat Idly by and Ate Doughnuts

If you didn't already know that I am an extremely strong person after reading my fish story, you can read on here about how my children and I spat in the face of death. We rock!

The day started like any other. It was a Sunday and everyone was being lazy-moving slowly. My husband casually mentioned we should go to the local farm for apple cider doughnuts and possibly pick out a pumpkin.

We got dressed, drove to the farm, purchased the doughnuts and sat at a picnic table beneath a nice shade tree and ate one doughnut each. The kids were eyeing the corn maze and I walked over to see how much it cost to go through. The cost was ridiculous, so we decided that we would buy tickets for both kids and only one adult and the other could stay outside. My husband suggested I should take them through. I agreed.

We have been through corn mazes at other farms before and they are all set up a little differently. One farm offers a map of the corn maze and different things you must locate and check off your list while going through the maze. Another was a bit of a challenge, but there was a small platform in the middle where you can climb up, overlook the maze and either map your strategy out or call out instructions to people in the maze. Since this maze had neither a map nor viewing platform, I thought it must be pretty rudimentary. It is, after all, for CHILDREN.

The kids and I entered the maze and it seemed pretty simple at first. We quickly navigated winding paths throughout the corn stalks. All the paths were pretty straightforward. Occasionally we would come to an intersection, but the choices were always either a very clear path forward or a dead end you could see just twenty feet in front of you.

About five minutes in, we hit an unexpected dead end at the end of a rather lengthy, winding path. We laughed, backtracked and hit another dead end. We scratched our heads and went another way that circled around and brought us back to the exact same spot. So we started tracking our way back out the way we came and hit yet another dead end. It was at about the fifteen minute mark that my husband texted me, "What? Did you get lost?"

I responded that I thought perhaps we WERE lost and got no response. The kids and I began just randomly walking around trying to find new paths and kept hitting dead ends. Zoe decided she was thirsty and I regretted not bringing the bottle of water in with us. The sun was beating down on us and I started to get concerned.

I texted my husband again- "You would think they would give us a map if it is this hard." He responded with, "At least you are getting your money's worth." I was unhappy with this response. I expected him to find someone to come get us. Call 911- something. People are dying in the maze!

Noah decided he had to pee and refused to pee on a corn stalk. Zoe began to whine that she was hot, tired, and "This is the WORST FARM EVER!".

As we walked down another path that came to a dead end, we passed a pair of adult men's boxer briefs lying in the path. We giggled, nicknamed it the "underwear path" and used it as navigation. We passed the underwear at least three more times in our travels. It occurred to me that perhaps someone who had gone before us had been lost as well and maybe they went into survival mode and used their own underwear to mark the path. Were we going to come across their remains at any moment?

The sun was high over the maze and beating down on us. We were pouring sweat, tired and thirsty. Every two minutes or so, we could hear the happy sounds coming from families rolling by the outside of the maze on the hayride out to the pumpkin patch. How ironic that such gaiety was going on outside while people were perishing just a few feet from them, out of their eye sight. What a tragic human plight. I began thinking about my husband with his ice cold bottle of water and bag of doughnuts. WHY WASN'T HE RESCUING US? WHERE WAS HE?

I was appalled that no one was concerned about our time spent in that maze. At this point, we had been in there for THREE AND A HALF.. umm.. tens of minutes. I continued to hear the jolly sounds of the people on the outside and wondered if a search party would be coming for us soon. And if they would make it to us before it was too late.

We continued to traipse up and down pathway after pathway only to run into more dead ends. I could tell by the landmarks I was seeing above the corn stalks that we had been to every corner of the field. WHAT KIND OF AUTUMNAL HELL WERE WE IN?

Finally, as we hit yet another dead end, I looked up to see the top of the farmhouse. This alerted me that we were back at the front of the field of corn and that freedom, the shop, my husband, WATER AND DOUGHNUTS were right in front of us.

I made a desperate decision. I realized if I didn't get us out of there soon, my husband, in his doughnut-eating stupor, would never miss us and they would find our bones when they cleared the field in the spring. So, I took a deep breath and said, "Kids, grab hands, we're going off- path!" They grabbed hands and we shimmied, squeezed and traipsed between rows and stalks of corn far from any path until we finally emerged into the open air, dazed and dehydrated; covered in sweat, dust and dirt like a castaway family finally returning to civilization. I dropped to my knees and pulled all the sticker burrs off of Zoe's pants. I turned and glanced one last time at the maze that was my family's personal hell for dozens of minutes! Knowing we had stared death in the face and laughed, we walked forward- on to the picnic area.

My husband was sitting in the shade, smiled and said, " How was the corn maze? "

He will never know the terror we endured out there.

**Edited to add: this blog was written the day before the news story about the family that got lost in the maze in Massachusetts and called 9-1-1. It was a quirky accident that I posted this before that happened and also a nice (for me) reminder that I am not the only one to get stuck in a corn maze. The day after I posted this, I had about four people post that news story on my Facebook page. Who knew?

Once a Band Nerd.....

Let me preface this post by saying that I was raised in the south where high school and college football is almost a religion. I know the rules, terminology, and logistics of most sports (excluding basketball, because, let's face it.. I just don't care about that one). But sometimes, that which runs through my very veins- the band nerd in me- trips me up a little.

I joined band in 5th grade- I played in the band all the way up through high school, also serving as a majorette and eventually as replacement drum major halfway through football season my senior year. I was in band in college and majored in music for two years before switching my major. Even after switching my major, my scholarship was contingent on my being in symphonic band and taking flute lessons (which obligated me to flute choir and flute class). I was in the band service sorority- and even served in the offices of historian, vice president and president. My junior year, I was elected by the band to represent them on the homecoming court. So, yeah.. "band nerd" could perhaps be an understatement. I was "supreme band nerd-ette". After I graduated, while I was still in Texas, I was still teaching flute lessons and judging high school twirling try-outs. Once I moved from Texas, I was out of commission for awhile. In 2005, missing my band nerdiness, I googled "community band" and discovered one right here close to where I live and joined. I briefly served on their executive board until I had to resign because DJ's crazy schedule was making me an unreliable member. My point... still a band nerd.

Now, my husband is not a musician at all. He played soccer all the way through college. He loves to point out my nerdiness and lately, it has come out several times in my children's sports. Like the dozens of times I have mistakenly informed my son to, "Hurry, up, or you will be late for REHEARSAL." and they always remind me.. " it is PRACTICE, NOT REHEARSAL!" Yeah.. I get it. Fine.

Then, a few weeks ago, while sitting at a game, the ref blew the whistle for half time. And one of the other moms looked confused and said, "Is it over?" and I replied, "No, it's intermission. Uh.. I mean half time." **blush** Yeah, I really did that.

While unrelated to the kids's sports, I also have been having a hard time at Zumba because the steps start on the right foot. My instinct is to march on my left foot and always step with my left foot first. This makes me angry because I am a perfectionist and I want to get the steps right. So when I go left and everyone else goes right.. it upsets me greatly.

Last week, while at Noah's game-in my head, I wanted to say that I should put Noah in a soccer clinic or camp to see if we can improve his skills; but what actually came flying out of my mouth was "master class". My husband looked at me, I corrected myself and we moved on.

The moral of the story: You can take the girl out of the band, but....

Oh HEY!

What is the football team doing on the marching field?