Serving?

Our church put out a call for people to help make cookies to thank the vendors for all they do for our food pantry.  I thought that sounded like a good service project for the kids and me, but does it count as serving if you really enjoy it?

 Sarah was especially in her element.

 Noah was lining up pretzels to make turtles, but he was pretending he was lining up soldiers for battle.

Heavenly airsoft

I was driving Noah to a friend's house to have an airsoft battle.  He wanted me to "step on it!" so he could have as much time there as possible.  I commented that if we got in an accident on the way he wouldn't be able to play at all. (I just realized I've become my mom.  She used to say stuff like that to me.)  He said, "I wouldn't care then.  I'd rather go to heaven than play airsoft anyway!  Hey, I could play airsoft with Jesus and Isaac!  God might be kind of hard to hit, since He's a spirit...."

Two year olds

Yesterday I worked in the two-year-olds class at CBS.  It's been a few years since I've had a two-year-old, and I'm starting to forget how fun and adorable they are (besides the snotty noses and stinky diapers, which I don't miss).  I was in charge of a group of six of them, and we were playing with play dough.  The only color we had was a beautiful, bright blue, so I was making sharks, dolphins, birds, etc. while my charges were mostly just squishing their dough around and getting it in their hair and all over the floor.

Suddenly, one kid's eyes got big and she gasped, pointed behind me, and whispered, "Uh-oh."  I whipped around, saw nothing unusual, and asked, "What?"  She continued to stare, horrified, and said, "They mad!"  I turned again and realized she must be looking at the small poster behind me, part of which depicted a scene with two kids grabbing for the same balloon. They both had angry-looking faces.  I said, "Yes, they do look mad.  It looks like they both want that balloon.  What should they do?"  Another little boy smiled and yelled, "Peace!  Peace!" 

After talking about various ways to work out the balloon dilemma, we moved on to reviewing the Bible story of the day, which was about the angel visiting Mary to tell her that she was going to have a baby.  I asked them who visited Mary, and a few of them said, "A angel!"  I said, "Yes, it was an angel.  And what did the angel tell Mary?"  Blank stares.  "The angel told her she was going to have...what?" I prompted.  Nothing.  I picked up my play dough creations.  "Was she going to have a dolphin?"  They all shook their heads.  "Was Mary going to have a...bird?"  No. They all knew that wasn't quite right, but nobody could remember what she WAS going to have.  I whipped up a play dough baby, swaddled in a little dough blanket.  I held it up and said, "Mary was going to have a....?" and the little "peace! peace!" boy yelled, "A blue baby!"  They all agreed that yes, Mary was having a bright blue baby.  Which is probably what they will tell their parents when they ask them what they learned at CBS. 

The camo coats are coming! The camo coats are coming!

Noah gave me a lengthy dissertation about war tactics.  Part of it went something like this:
"Those soldiers in the Revolutionary War weren't very smart. They wasted a perfectly good guy to carry the flag into battle. I mean, if the flag was that important to them, why didn't they leave it back at the base?  Instead, the guy carrying it got killed AND the flag got shot up.  And they couldn't do a sneak attack with a big flag announcing them.  Speaking of sneak attacks, why on earth did the British wear RED coats?  Why not camo?"

Insulting birds

Me:  Sarah, please put your coat in the washing machine.  It's filthy.
S [walking out of the room]: Ok, but I need to blah blah....(fading away, mumbling)....
N: Mom, did you know this fact about sharks?
S: Mom!  Did you hear what I said?!
M: No, I didn't, because you were walking away when you said it, and your brother was busy interrupting you.
N: Nice one, Mom!  You just insulted two birds with one stone!

Thanksgiving

 20-pound bird

 This is what went inside him

 I made a compound butter with poultry seasoning to slather all over him. Then I poured apple cider and maple syrup over the whole mess.

 I boiled the giblets and neck and used the broth for gravy.  I gave the cooked giblets to the cats, but they surprisingly didn't like them.

 All cooked and ready for my dad to carve.

We all fit in the kitchen!  That's why we moved to this house.

 We mostly stayed inside this year since it was so cold, but the kids did go out to play too.

While the boys played football, Sarah went in to make hot chocolate for everyone.

One for the record books

 Noah's 12th birthday party is going down as the worst so far.  Sarah made him the above Angry Birds cupcakes.  She and her friend Chloe decorated them.  So far so good.  I reserved the Proctor Recreation Center over a month ago.  Sent the check, called to confirm the date.  Packed up drinks, decorations, games, goody bags, 2 vehicles full of kids. So far so good.

 Arrive half an hour early to decorate.  No workers there to let us in.  No problem.  I assure the kids they'll be here any minute.  The above sign on the door is still amusing enough to me at this point to take a picture of it. 

 The boys help haul all the stuff up to the door and do what boys do while they're waiting.  I admire the architecture of the building and reassure Mike that we didn't need to make a Plan B, because the workers would be there any second now.  I confirmed the date twice, after all. 

My parents and two nephews arrive.  Then our best friends and their daughters.  The adults with phones start scrambling for alternative venues. It's really, really cold, but most of the kids aren't complaining.  It's now long past the 2:00 start time, and even I have given up hope.  We pack up all the stuff and all the kids and caravan back to our house, having found no other alternatives available. 

We haul all the stuff into the house.  There are kids packed in the house with nothing to do.  The bathrooms aren't even clean.  I was not expecting to have 23 people at our house.  I start getting cake ready to serve.  The phone rings (although I don't hear it over the din), and someone shouts, "It's Proctor Rec Center!"  The lady is very apologetic.  She thought the time was 3:00 instead of 2:00. She says she's there now and that we can come back.

We load up all the kids and most of the stuff again (I had already thrown some decorations and a game downstairs and put the matches away, so that stuff didn't make the final trip) and make the thirty minute drive back there again.  I'm feeling extremely testy and stressed.  Mike and I are in separate vehicles, trying to contact all the parents.  The kids are mostly content and resilient. They're discussing whether or not they believe in hypnosis and if the surface tension of the water would kill you if fell off the bridge and various other boy things, while one of them offers me driving advice.

 We haul the stuff in, and the adults help me decorate and set up, because my heart is really not in it anymore, and I don't even have all the decorations.  We meet up with some other friends who arrived late (or early, depending on your perspective), and the kids start playing in the gym.  I force myself to take a couple pictures for Noah's sake (I'd just as soon forget this day myself) while still trying to contact parents. 

In the end, Noah kindly said that he had a good time, and I hope the guests did.  The best I can say about the day is that I'm thankful for great friends and family who put up with me, and for my very special 12-year-old who makes it all worth it.