Spring Break - PNW Style

I'm glad I snapped this picture earlier today because now this light dusting of snow has melted and the sun is shining again. Wait...now it's cloudy. OK, now the sun is back again.

On Easter Sunday there was a short discussion about weather when someone said how sad she felt for people in other parts of the country that had to wait so long for Spring, as if we here in the Pacific Northwest don't have to wait for spring at all.

I guess it's been a while since I experienced that other season in between winter and spring called "break-up." And no, this doesn't refer to a particularly bad ending to a relationship. Those who have spent time in Alaska, the Yukon Territory, or anywhere else that has several inches of ice as a permanent fixture on the ground from November through April will have a better idea of what I mean by "break-up."

As a missionary in Alaska, I clearly remember watching the April General Conference broadcast and feeling really irritated by the abundance of panning shots of Temple Square, filled with flowering tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, and pansies. They even had popcorn popping on their apricot trees for crying out loud! It was as if they were just trying to rub my nose in the fact that in Alaska, I still had a good month before I'd even see pavement, let alone a daffodil. Not a good attitude with which to start off General Conference, I can tell you that!

So, when it was mentioned how wonderful our Oregon/Washington spring is at Easter dinner last week, all I could think about was those of you in Arizona, Texas, California, Georgia and Southern Utah who keep telling me how beautiful it is. As if your verbal praises are not enough, you send pictures of you and your kids in...what's it called again...oh that's right, SUNSHINE!

It's easy to feel sorry for myself when I focus on how much better everyone else has it. So, this week, I've tried to notice how the cloudy skies really intensify the vivid greens and bright yellows, reds and pinks. I've paid attention to the flowering trees and the chirping birds. But most of all, I've remembered what it's like to be in a place where there is still several inches of ice on the ground; where I would still be tromping around in my heavy Sorel Snow Cat boots and wearing 3 layers of thermal wear on my legs. I'm enjoying not having huge pot holes where the ice has broken up to navigate both in car and on foot.

That's right, I'm thinking of you, Minnesotans and Alaskans. No offense, but you are making me feel so much better.

A Few Thoughts on Balloons

I hate balloons. I wish I had a latex allergy so I could justify a total household balloon ban. I may have inherited my aversion to balloons from my mom, who also hates balloons, but I recently found out that she hates them mostly because of the potential for loud, unplanned popping noises.

My hate of balloons goes much, much deeper than that.

1. Balloons stink. I can’t even stand the way balloons smell just out of the package. Slightly worse than the just-out-of-the-package smell is the inflated balloon smell. Worse still is the 3 day-old balloon smell. Nothing is viler, however, than the odor of a 2 year old inflated balloon, wrinkled and pathetic, which emerges from behind the TV entertainment center and is batted carelessly around the room by little boys. (I’m feeling a wave of nausea just thinking about it!)

2. Balloon noises are irritating and grating. Since my boys can’t tie their own balloons, and since I mostly refuse to touch them, they are usually left to inflate their balloons and release them to fly around the room, making that horrible ppffffttttllbbbtttt noise and shooting bits of spit out their back ends.

I don’t like the noise of balloons rubbed against hair, or when balloons are squeezed and twisted. Sorry balloon-folding clown guy…it’s not you, it’s your evil balloons I can’t stand.

The sound of a balloon popping, while still unpleasant, indicates the end of the balloon’s life, and so I find I can tolerate that noise somewhat. However, if the balloon is popped by a child, a lot of crying usually ensues, which definitely qualifies as an annoying, balloon related noise.

3. I can’t stand how balloons feel. I won’t touch a balloon unless I am either popping it or throwing away the little busted bits of it. The worst kind of balloon to touch is the one that has been inflated for a while, then gets deflated and is all feathery and rubber. Ugh.

4. Stale balloon air makes me gag.

5. I’d rather clean up after 10 bathroom emergencies (use your imagination) than have a kid hand me a balloon to blow up that has been repeatedly blown up and deflated and is now dripping with spit.

6. Getting hit in the head with a balloon while I’m driving causes me to utter really angry threats. (I’ve seen my boys laughing at me in the rear-view mirror!)

My dislike of balloons is so strong, I’m wondering if I actually might have an allergy to latex. I checked on-line to see what the symptoms were and they include:

• Itchy, red, watery eyes
• Sneezing or runny nose
• Coughing
• Rash or hives
• Chest tightness and shortness of breath
• Shock

I think I could definitely make a case for chest tightness and a shortness of breath, and probably shock. At the very least I think I could qualify for latex intolerance.

BJB OD

Do you know what stinks?

When you see a dish of brightly colored jelly beans sitting out on the counter for festive Easter snacking and choose a beautiful black jelly bean sitting amidst the greens and reds and pinks to grab and eat. Greens and reds and pinks are perfectly good jelly beans and purples too, but sometimes, you just want a black jelly bean.

So you grab the black jelly bean and pop it into your mouth, bite down, and wait for the licorice explosion. But here’s where it stinks…it’s not a black jelly bean at all, it’s grape; a dark, purple grape jelly bean.

Usually, there is nothing wrong with grape jelly beans. But if you are truly expecting a black jelly bean, then grape jelly beans suck.

After getting myself all worked up about eating a black jelly bean yesterday, I was sabotaged by a grape, not once, but twice. It was just too much. So today, when I saw a bag of all black jelly beans at Walgreens at 50% off, I decided to buy them and satisfy my need for a black jelly bean or two.

I didn’t even have to look as I plunged my hand into the bag again and again; it was a black one every single time. And when I say “every single time” I mean for about an hour while I tried to get into my latest book that I was about to return to the library, but which my mom promised me was just about to get better.

So, the book is getting better, but I’m quite done with black jelly beans. Or, as my sweet grandma A. sometimes calls them, “jack belly jeans.”

Most everyone has a black jelly bean opinion, so what's yours? Love 'em or hate 'em? Is there anyone that is honestly indifferent on this subject? Come on, be honest.

Here is what Jim Halpert has to say on the subject:

Dyeing

When we dyed eggs this afternoon, the boys started off by carefully using the little copper egg dipper-thing to dip their eggs in the dye cups and lift them out. After a while though, it just became easier to use their fingers to dip and retrieve eggs. The result...well, see for yourself.

Also, the grout on my white tile counter top is now green and blue in places. Yay.

When I Finally Lose My Mind...

If one day you find yourself wondering why I seem to be one burrito short of a combo platter, please consider the following:

Me: Good morning Jonah. I made you an omelet for breakfast. Why don't you sit down and I'll get it for you.

Jonah: I don't want an omelet.

Me: OK, would you like some cereal? We just got strawberry frosted shredded wheat. Do you want some?

Jonah: Yes.

Me: (I place the bowl of cereal in front of Jonah who is seated at the table.)

Jonah: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I don't want the milk on the cereal! I want it in a cup.

Me: (I suddenly remember Jonah's weird cereal preferences, swear I will never forget again, and dump the cereal in the sink, rinse and dry the bowl, and pour DRY cereal in the bowl and milk into a cup. I place both things in front of Jonah.)

Jonah: (apparently appeased)

Me: (Unload the dishwasher, check my e-mail, blogs, Dear Abby, eat the omelet originally intended for Jonah, clear the table of the other kids dishes, rinse and load them in the dishwasher, help Ethan get his lunch and backpack together and get him out the door, make beds)

Jonah: (whining, with untouched food sitting in front of him) Moooooooooooooooooom, I don't want this. Make me an omelet!

A Belated Post

I can't believe I forgot to post about Isaac's birthday. After dinner at Chevy's (uno, dos, uno dos tres!) we came home for cake and presents. I think Ethan and Jonah were almost more excited about Isaac's presents than Isaac himself. When Isaac opened a brand new pack of Pokemon cards, Jonah wanted to start trading immediatly.

By the way, when you live in a house full of boys you learn that one of the "funniest" parts of having a birthday is using those completely annoying, juvenile trick candles that never blow out. Hilarious.

Boys Only

This may not be the most adorable kid picture I have, but it illustrates just what I love about our street. Also, since I just got done doing a presentation to Ethan's class on the artist Bev Doolittle, I can't help but see this picture as a suburban reflection of Bev's artwork. How many kids can you see camouflaged in the trees? OK, not all of them are "camouflaged." Some are just wearing camouflage.

Answer: There are 6 boys in the trees and only two of them are mine.

One of the things this picture doesn't show is the 3 boys in the garage trading Pokemon cards just a few feet away from the trees.

There are so many boys on our street and every sunny day after school, they all gather to climb trees, trade Pokemon cards, dig up bugs, launch baking soda rockets, throw balls at each other, re-enact star wars light saber fights, collect rocks and sticks and hit tennis balls against the garage door.

I think it's just great that there are so many good kids in our neighborhood for our boys to play with. More than that, however, I'm really, really glad that everyone is OUTSIDE!