I Don't Make Monkeys, I Just Train Em!

I found something great in a big basket full of junk on our countertop. You know the basket, one of those "we'll deal with this later" kind of spots. Yesterday I was looking for something and found a piece of pink construction paper with this conversation sprawled across it in Sharpie:

Carolena (who was wearing a sparkly pink hat): "This is a singing hat AND a dancing hat. You can wear it when you dance and toss it off when you see someone handsome."
Me: "What does that mean?"
C: "A boy."
Me: "What makes him handsome?"
C: "Wearing a nice shirt... a jacket... handsome pants... you know, handsome."

It's 6:15 am and Nils is being introduced to Pee-Wee's Playhouse (thank you, Netflix!). Nils got up at 5 and soon thereafter told me he wants to go hang out with one of his teachers today. Uh, sorry kid. You're stuck with me again.

Speaking of being stuck with me, yesterday (I am ashamed to admit) I laughed at Carolena. I feel really bad about it... but... you can be the judge (don't tell me your verdict of my level of guilt). I was getting ready in the master bathroom and C&N were hanging out in my bedroom. I heard C say to N, "I'm drinking hot chocolate!" in a bragging voice. I thought perhaps Chris was making that in the kitchen and hoped he was making enough for both kids. Seconds later C came screaming into the bathroom with her tongue hanging out. She kept screaming (she's very dramatic) and pawing at her tongue. I gave her a cup of water and had her rinse and spit it out. She kept pawing and screaming. She finally told me what happened, "I was pretending to drink hot chocolate out of this cup... and when I took a pretend sip... it was full of cat hair!" And then I lost it laughing. oops.

Terrible mom moment: guilty as charged.

The Snake Came Back the Very Next Day... He Just Wouldn't Stay Away...

A friend sent me this (hilarity credit to Joann Doyle) and it just about sums up yesterday:

Yep. Pretty much.

I creeped out of my bed and watched the floor carefully as I got ready for bootcamp. Thankful to have not encountered Monsieur Snakey, I came home with two huge frappuccinos (one for me, one as a surprise for Chris). Thanks, DOK for the giftcard! As Nils says, "Party! Party!"

After caffinating up we got busy around here. Chris ran errands and worked on our sprinklers while Carolena, Nils, and I set to work cleaning and reorganizing Carolena's room. C sat down for the task of collecting all of the shoes from the floor of her closet and putting them in a basket. You know... her closet... the space that backs up to the wall that the snake crawled into.

I should have seen it coming.

Suddenly she was screaming and crying and flew out of her closet. "SNAAKKKKEE!!!"
I started yelling, "Go get Daddy! Go get Daddy!" over and over and C ran out of the room to get Chris.

Nils sat beside me looking at me quizzically. I kept my eyes on that snake.

Chris came back with a bucket and captured el snakeytan. Then the real crying began when he showed the kids.

I spent the next portion of the day scraping children off of my legs as they clung to me crying and pleading to keep the snake. Really?!

C and N followed me around crying, sobbing, begging, pleading. N kept saying, "Snaakkee!! Love him! Cute!" 

Seriously? 

Two kids who love snakes. This is what I get for being a Slytherin. 

I'm okay with snakes in the zoo. Fascinated by them in fact. I'm okay with petting a snake. I was once okay with holding them. I like the idea of them "out there" in the world doing their thing. I don't want to come across one in my house. Ever. Ever ever. Ever. 

{Shuddddder}

No, of course we didn't kill him.

Chris was instructed to get in the car and drive that little critter away from our house. He wanted to put him in the backyard but it knows the entry route to our house and thus had to be relocated.

The kids and I went back to working in Carolena's room where she told the story of finding the snake. She said she was picking up shoes and touched the snake and it shocked her to find it in her closet. Uhhh. Yeah. That could come out in therapy as an adult. For sure. Except she loves snakes (always has) so it will probably be a story about how awesome it was and how her mother wouldn't let her keep it.

Carolena's 2nd birthday looking at snakes at the pet store.

After cleaning her room... wait for it... we took out one of her beds! What?!
C has had two twin beds in her room because we have a three bedroom house and wanted room for people to spend the night. We decided though that day to day life trumps that and took out the extra bed (wish we would have thought about that a few months ago when we bought a mattress and boxspring for Nils. Argh).

She now has a better space all to herself. We moved in my childhood desk and her doll house. It is fabulous. She is insanely excited and got her desk adorably organized with arts and crafts and spent the rest of the day in there working.

At some point in the afternoon both kids packed their bags for the beach and put them by the front door. Nils was devastated to learn that we weren't leaving at that very second and spent time angry about that. He spent a sad amount of time holding his suitcase and trying to open the front door, all the while crying and whimpering "Moom's house." You're welcome for that mental image, Mom.

After all of the snake brew ha ha and bedroom transforming and kids crying I was in party mode last night. It was cool enough outside to don my Mexican poncho hoodie. Chris tells me I look like a 90s stoner in it which I take as a compliment so I spent the rest of the night with Pearl Jam songs in my head. My waistline was thankful to receive the calories of three beers and fifty million toasted marshmallows. It's only March 12... what's happening to my resolve?! Chris cooked burgers while Nils and I snuggled on the deck and listened to Jimmy Buffet and enjoyed the perfect springtime weather.

My children cried because we didn't keep the snake we found in our house. This is why I drink so much damn coffee people. I'm not sure exactly what the correlation there is. But, there it is.

Rain, Rain, Go Away So the Snakes Won't Come to Play

Dear Snakes of Fort Bend County,
I know it has been raining a hell of a lot. I know that construction all around our neighborhood with a new boardwalk, a new park, a new water park... all that jazz... has really put you out. I know you have few places left to go and, recently, little to no places that are dry. However, our house is not an option. Do not come into it again. Ever.
Sincerely, Casey


Last night I lived into an insane female stereotype. I went into the kids' bathroom and when I went to open the door and walk out THERE WAS A SNAKE IN OUR HOUSE!!!!!

I literally jumped onto the stool that the kids keep at the sink and started shrieking, "CHRIS!! Snake in the house!!" over and over. I don't know how the kids slept through my freaking out.

Let it now be known that the snake was approximately the size of a pencil. Maybe smaller. Yeah, smaller I think.

Chris came to rescue me by first seeing the size of the snake and then (probably inwardly rolling his eyes at the proportionality of my huge freak out to the small snake) grabbed an empty toy bin to catch it in... and that's when... it slithered into the smallest crack ever IN OUR WALL!!!!!

Ahhhhhh!!! Why God, why?!?!?!

Needless to say I was hyperventilating. Olive (who will henceforth be known as "the best cat ever") came prowling around with obvious hopes of catching the snake. Thanks, Olive.

Then... I saw another snake! Which turned out to be a rubberband.
And then another! Which was my cell phone cord sitting where it always sits.
The third snake turned out to be a pair of sunglasses. Then a pair of shoes. My toothbrush. My own feet. Everything looked serpentine.

After texting my sister for moral support, checking my sheets nine hundred times, and trying to think about anything else in the entire world, I finally fell asleep.

How's that for a Slytherin gal?

Care for Another Cup?

When we lived in DC we received many more visitors than we do living in Katy. We knew even then that people were visiting for a free place to stay. One such couple came to DC and Chris took them on a whirlwind tour of our nation's capitol. One of the visitors was full of questions like, "what's that building?" (while looking at the capitol) and "I don't know about that war" when standing at the WWII monument.

This is a college graduate.

And yes, evidently I'm extremely judgmental about people in their twenties who don't recognize the capitol building while standing on the national mall or even know enough to keep it to themselves if the details of WWII seem a bit hazy.

So, I confess: I know nothing about Voltaire except his name. Is this someone I should know more about than just his name? At least I recognize the name. I feel like I'm standing at the White House asking if its important. Okay, not that bad. But I'm not even sure if I'm supposed to know more about Voltaire.

Why do I suddenly bring him up?

Last night as I was reading The First American: The Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin I came across and interesting tidbit. And then I went to wikipedia to confirm:
Voltaire was also known to have been an advocate for coffee, as he was reported to have drunk it 50–72 times per day. It has been suggested that high amounts of caffeine acted as a mental stimulant to his creativity (Wikipedia)

Um. I love him.

Maybe that's what people will say about me someday. "Casey was known to be an advocate for coffee, as she was reported to have drunk it 50-100 times per day. It has been suggested that high amounts of caffeine acted as a mental stimulant to her creativity, feats of strength, patience in motherhood, circus contortionist acts, and pirating the high seas."

Man-Man

It is currently 545 am. I have been awake with a little guy named Nils for about an hour now.

Some might blame the time change. To them I say, "malarkey." I don't get all of the time change whiners. Do you go to bed and wake up at the exact same time every single day? If the answer to that is "yes" then alright, you may complain. Everyone else, get over it. If you or your children ever go to bed late/early or wake up late/early, then your arguments about the one hour difference on one night of the year are nonsensical. All of us are now dumber for having listened to you.

See, mean blogging. I just can't help it.

Instead of bitching about time change nonsense I'll tell it like it is: Nils woke up early (as per the usual) and for some insane reason instead of leaving him in his crib to quietly play (as per the usual), I let him come out and sit by me. So now I'm drinking coffee and writing and listening to Barney music and a happy little guy yell, "Man-Man!" each time he finds Spiderman in a Look & Find book. Oh, and did I mention he's dancing to Barney?

He just looked at me, smiled, yelled "Mommy!" and I got a big hug and kiss on the face.

I wonder if I'm going to have a cold now. I hope not... Perhaps more coffee will stave off the cold.

I let Nils get up ridiculously early. I probably won't do it again anytime soon, but right now, for this morning, it's pretty great.

Thankful

I'm having a hard time blogging. Not because I don't have a million drafts that I could post, but because they are all pretty mean. Eh, Slytherin.

So, instead, I shall be thankful.

26 things I am thankful for today:

Aardvarks because... two a's in a row. Of course.

Bees. We eat a lot of honey. Although, do you ever feel sorry for the bees? Aren't they looking around all of the time like, "I know I left that honey somewhere."

Carolena. Duh. She's something isn't she? That girl. Tonight after dinner I was cleaning the kitchen and she came skipping in and announced she wanted to help. She then dried pots and put them away and wiped the table and all that jazz. It was heavenly.

Donuts. No, that's a lie. I don't like donuts. Plus, I'm pretty sure they are the worst off all junk food. So perhaps I'm thankful for the fact that I don't like donuts. Never have. Not even as a kid. Except when I was pregnant with Nils, and then I loved them.

Eggs. Damn, our family eats a ton of eggs. We could win a contest. Hm... we should look into that.

Family. All of em. Especially Chris because he is my favorite.

Geese. Specifically the origami ones in my kitchen. It's interesting to me that I have had origami geese (okay, technically cranes) hanging in my kitchen for almost a year - one of them has a picture of Nils with an elf hat taped to it riding on the crane. And no one, not one person has ever asked about it. Evidently people just take it in stride that a photo of our son in an elf hat riding a crane/goose in the middle of our kitchen is normal for us.

Hunter. Where is that guy? I miss him. My broski. I need to call him.

Imagination. No comment. Get your own.

Jogging backwards. Sometimes we run backwards in bootcamp and I find it disturbingly fun... like the part that's disturbing is how much fun I think it is to run backwards.

Kelly. Red rover red rover let Kelly come over. And we'll go to the mall and find some new boots for me. Preferably with a tag that says, "narrow calf" because evidently that's a problem.

Learning. I love to learn. And I love learning whatever I am interested in at that moment. Thanks to nonfiction writers and access to google I feel like the whole world is at my fingertips.

Megan. Have I mentioned her? She's one of my bestest. I miss her too. Turns out her taking a summer-long vacation across the country and then having a newborn cuts down on the amount of time I get to spend talking her face off.

Nils. Man, oh man, I love that little guy. He is talking more and more everyday. He's reached the point where he seems to pick up new words and phrases everyday. He loves to chase the cats (poor cats) and say "come on, come on" while gesturing to me. He loves trucks and Ninja Turtles and Batman. And trains. And trucks. Did I mention trains? Or trucks?

Oranges. And they smell like Christmas too.

Pickles. Ever since I was pregnant with Nils and started eating entire jars of pickles I've drank pickle juice. Still. Not frequently. But enough. Weird.

Quiet. Oh, need I say more?

Reese's cake. Carolena and I made this cake for Chris' birthday and it was awesome. And also kind of disgusting in its too-muchness. Ugh. It was awesome. And horrible. Make it. Love it. Throw away what's left. Don't keep leftovers of this bad boy.

Scented pinecones. While we're on the topic of Chris' birthday. Oh my gosh! The kids made him scented pinecones and it was a fabulous treat! They went on a nature walk to collect them and c had fun making them while Nils was napping. We're doing that again for sure. And now that we've done it once and they turned out great I think I'll let Nils participate in the scenting part as well. Mmmm gooooddd smeellllsss.

Tent camping. As in, when the hell are we going to get to go camping again?!

Umbrellas. How could you not be thankful for umbrellas?! And underwear. And unicorns.

Voles. Seriously. They're cute.

Weight lifting. I might have an addiction to BodyPump.

Xylophones. Obviously it was between xylophones and x-rays and I've thankfully had more experience with the former than the latter. I went to private school so that's what music looked like. Xylophones, ukuleles, and harpsichords (pardon me, Kelly has informed me it was not a "lap harpsichord" but an "autoharp" details details). Of course.

You. It's nice to have someone read my blog. Thanks Mom.

Zoo. Because, #1 the zoo. And #2 are there other words that start with z? Kidding. I'm just really ready for another zoo trip. We haven't been since the summer. Hm... what's on our to-do list for tomorrow? Maybe I could make it happen.

For all of these things and more, I give thanks.

I'm Being Swallowed By a Boa Constrictor...

Oh no, oh no, he swallowed my toe! He swallowed my toe!

With two little ones under the age of five and a second (very loveable but sometimes somewhat demanding) spouse named "the Church," life involves a lot of squeezing right now. Squeezing in the things that have to happen like laundry and dinner and vestry meetings and working to fill them with love as best we can rather than stress. My little helper monkeys folding laundry help to fill that task with love (and wrinkles) and the combination of working ahead, a freezer, and a crock pot sure does fill our dinners with less stress and more love. And pizza and a movie as the standing vestry night activity around here will forever be what my children think "vestry" means. Someday they'll be active adults in a parish, run for vestry, and be disappointed to discover that the meeting doesn't mean hitting up the redbox (or future equivalent), tossing on pajamas, and spreading "the pizza blanket" across the living room.

I don't have time for squeezing in Facebook or watching tv or movies. But I do have time for crafting with my kids. And baking a freezer full of baked goods for the school fall fair. And squeezing in the library, and decorating for Halloween (it's an on-going creative process around here), and more baking for the school fair. I've squeezed in time for reading for fun falling asleep snuggled with my book (Into the Wild at the moment) and am exactly one week ahead in my work on the Gospel of Mark... which isn't as good as it sounds because I really need to squeeze in the end of that and get to work on Luke! Yikes!

We've squeezed in ballet lessons, and pumpkin patches, and plenty of spontaneous family dance parties... most of which are initiated by Nils hearing a song he likes on Pandora and yelling "come on! come on!" dancing around the den. He loves my "Proud Mary" station. We're also squeezing in more than enough time for preschool humor knock-knock jokes. Nils loves those as well and has already added his own to the mix... spoiler alert: boy humor evidently begins before the age of two. You don't want to answer the door if he says "knock knock!"

I'm squeezing in my early morning workouts. We're squeezing in special family time being sure to mark it off in advance on the calendar... because we're taking the wisdom of older, wiser clergy families and refusing to let our family get squeezed out. And in the midst of all of the squeezing we find rejoicing and prayer and thanksgiving. Constant thanksgiving.

I'm being swallowed by a boa constrictor... but I'm a Syltherin so it's just fine. We're doing alright. We'll just toss the boa a party hat and invite it to the next Proud Mary living room dance party.

How To Win Friends And Influence People: Not Afraid of Anything

Remember how I was looking for a book to read at C's school Halloween party?

Found it. Today we checked out The Little Old Lady Who Wasn't Afraid of Anything from the library. It should surprise no one that once I borrow my parents' gray wig (what? other people don't think that's a normal thing to say?*) I have all of the pieces to put together a costume and BE the little old lady.

YEESSSS!

Plus, I have everything to pull together all of the things she isn't afraid of in the book and have a really interactive book reading. The shoes go clomp clomp? Well guess what kid? You get to "clomp clomp" some of Chris' shoes.

The little old lady wasn't afraid of anything... and evidently neither am I because I just sent an email to people who don't know me (and thankfully one who does) depicting the details of my plan. THIS is what they're getting in response to "hey can someone find a Halloween book for us to read to the kids?"

{maniacal slytherin laughter is appropriate here}



*I also have been known to say, "Oh this old thing? It's my banana costume on permanent loan from the Jim Rush Collection."

Dear Casey:

Kate Cho from Pearland asks:
Question: If we met this year, would you be my friend? Don't answer that!

Kate,
First of all Mrs. Cho, what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

Second, by saying, "Don't answer that!" you guarantee a long answer. Don't tell me what to do. You know I hate that.

Let's explore what it would be like if we met this year...
If we met right now then chances are one of us would bring up the topics of polar exploration and whether or not grown women should wear t-shirts. We would both be drinking a Diet Coke and talking about how we should really quit the stuff. We'd talk about how we just discovered GWTW and how many times we've read HP. We'd argue over whether it's better to be in Gryfindor or Slytherin.

I would comment on how your compost pile looks a lot like Marjory the Trash Heap and you would laughingly agree. You'd tell me about your plans for a bee hotel, and we'd obsess over the fact that there are people in this world who buy paper products besides toilet paper only to throw them away.

Chances are one of us would suggest Taco Bell for lunch and the other would say, "I can’t go to Taco Bell; I’m on an all-carb diet. How about McDonalds so the kids can go in the playplace?" Then we'd sit at McDonalds and eat fries and drink more dc and talk about how much fun it is to go to the beach and how someone could ever choose to live somewhere landlocked (saying the word "landlocked" as though its a cuss word). We would have already learned that we are both Episcopalian because somehow you discover that about someone within moments of meeting. Based on that fact alone we would have discovered at least eight people we know in common two of which being our relatives.

A mutual love for Tina Fey and Christian Bale and Kermit would carry our conversation through the lunch hour. Because the kids are busy playing and we've got nothing else to do that afternoon we'd splurge on iced coffees laughing about how they'll keep us up into the wee hours working on craft projects and watching The Goodbye Girl. We'd talk about how weird it was that we watched that movie so much as children. "Your parents let you watch that too?!?! Were you also allowed to eat macaroni and cupcakes for breakfast? Wait? What?! Me too!" Then we'd talk about what craft projects we've been working on lately.

After lunch you would invite me to join a book club or some sort of women's group you are currently involved with. I'd smile and say, "Sure. Maybe..." all the while wondering why someone so obviously weird and nothing like me wants to be my best friend forever...

 

I would in turn invite you to lift weights or to drink scotch on my patio or be facebook friends. We would stare at one another smiling and thinking, "I picked up a weirdo." Finally you would break the silence and say, "Nobody knows anything, Joe. We'll take this leap, and we'll see. We'll jump, and we'll see. That's life, right?" and we'd be BFF forever and I'd move into the house next door to you. 

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let It Shine

As I recently confessed, I'm in the discernment process of what to do with my love for writing. Don't you love that phrase, "the discernment process"? It gives the impression that I am meeting regularly with a spiritual adviser, working diligently behind closed doors, and having discussions with an editor.

I could let you go on believing that is what my discernment process looks like.

Oh, who am I kidding? No one believes that! Anything that orderly isn't part of my world. To me, it merely means that I've been writing and teaching (intermediately) for the last six years (six years!) and over that time have found that I love love love to write and teach. So, who cares? What should I do about that?

With some encouragement from others, I've decided (for now at least) that I am going to start working on some small group curriculum and devotionals. I've had numerous requests for such work over the last few years and have decided it's time to start more actively pursuing that. So, step one: write, write, write. What comes after that? I have a few ideas. First I'd better concentrate on writing. And writing. And writing.

I thought about (and even started penning) a book but have quickly discovered that my Slytherin tenancies are just too pronounced. I need to add good into the world and not humor at the expense of others. Although, that cookie monster story really is priceless isn't it?

So, wish me luck! If you need me at 5am I'll either be working out or right here in front of the old laptop. Typing away with a cup of boring decaf tea nearby my cute new houseplant and yummy smelling candle from Kel.

And Cut. That's a Wrap.

When Chris and I were engaged I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table working on something for the wedding (I have no memory of what it was) and totally stressing out about it. My mom finally put an end to it by yelling politely suggesting, "Casey, everything you touch is turning to shit right now! Put it away!"

I immediately turned to my brother, grabbed his shoulder, and then cackled, "Ha! Mom just called you shit!"

Remember the time I spent months working on a handmade project for my sister and then decided right before Christmas that I didn't like it and started something new?

Last night I showed Chris the new project and we determined it is ungiftable in it's current state (which was in theory "finished"). Hopefully it's not unsalvageable. I then made a double batch of caramel corn for Carolena's teachers that was taken from the oven and dumped into the trash.

Today I woke up at 4am, drank a ton of coffee, and worked out. Caramel corn: take two. Kelly's handmade gift: take three. Coffee drinking: take one million.

Hunter, want to come over and entertain me while everything I touch turns to poo-poo again?

We're Having Cold Mush

Carolena begins each day as a new person, or animal as is the case more often than not. Every morning begins with, "I'm not Carolena. I'm Baby Turtle (or whatever)" in response to my "Good morning Carolena!"

Last night she went to bed insisting that she was Annie while referring to Chris as Daddy Warbucks. This morning I was greeted with, "I'm not Carolena. I'm Annie. And you are... {pause to think} Annie Mommy. Where is Daddy Warbucks?!"

I spent the next hour being referred to as "Annie Mommy" assuming that she meant the well dressed total package singing and dancing woman who ends up with Daddy Warbucks. What IS her name?

We pulled out the arts and crafts supplies and began blasting the Annie soundtrack throughout the house. Carolena sang along to the Annie solos. I began singing along with the Annie Mommy songs and was immediately shushed and dismissed with one look.

Then Miss Hannigan's big number "Little Girls" came up on the playlist and I was reprimanded for not singing my song.

Miss Hannigan.

Could it be because of my bathtub full of gin?