Temporary Insanity

I love holidays. There's nothing like a holiday to bring out the crazy in a person.

Take Halloween for instance. You either love it or you hate it. There's really no in-between. I love to wear costumes, I love to see the kids in their costumes, and I love to carve pumpkins, decorate my house, and watch "The Great Pumpkin" re-runs on TV while eating caramel apples. Holidays allow us to act like kids again, if only for one night.

So, this year for Halloween I'm dressing up as a prom queen. I'm wearing my own Senior Prom dress from 1989. Again, I have to ask myself what it is about Halloween that would prompt me to dress up in a ridiculous outfit that I have spent the last almost 20 years of my life trying to block from my memory. It's that holiday-induced madness that I succumb to every year. I was practically giddy as I spent an hour looking for blue mascara, blue eyeshadow and bubblegum pink lipstick. I bought a wig since I have non-80's hair that just won't work with the costume. I even made a sash for myself with "Prom Queen 1989" on it in large letters. I am beside myself with excitement.

Halloween can be taken a bit too far, though. Decorations, for example. I recently went out and spent perfectly good money on fake cobwebs with little spiders attached. My kids and I happily roamed around the house, putting up cobwebs and spiders. I spread mine out to look like actual cobwebs. Luke, my five year old son, stuck his up in large clumps, as if his spiders were only able to produce cotton balls rather than webs. Maggie eyed everything critically and told me that her cobweb placement was far superior to her brother's. Ella thought the cobwebs were actually cotton candy and tried to eat them.

I suddenly realized that I currently have actual cobwebs in my house that are far better looking than the fake ones I purchased. Every few days I look at these real cobwebs derisively, and mutter under my breath about getting out the vacuum to take care of them. It never happens. I'm afraid of them, mainly because we have actual spiders, too. Not little spiders that scurry under the furniture when you approach; we have large spiders whose apparent goal is to snag one of the cats in the massive web that they have constructed just inside our mudroom door. I'm sure the real spiders would escape the pull of my vacuum and gather to plot some sort of revenge against me involving lurking in my shoes.

I have also purchased those pumpkin carving kits. You know, the ones with the special saws and patterns and such. What ever happened to hacking into the pumpkin with a large knife like I did when I was a kid? Granted, these days I'd have my children taken from me if I snapped a picture of Luke wielding a 12 inch chef's knife in his hand. Yet, there are pictures of me doing that very thing when I was a kid.

My pumpkin design was always dictated by the size of the knife blade, which was the main reason that my jack-o-lantern faces mainly consisted of triangles and zigzag mouths. That was the only way I could get the knife to work. Now, each year my children pick out some elaborate paper pattern of a witch on a broom and begin hacking into their pumpkins with their little saws, before giving up and making a jack-o-lantern with triangle eyes and zigzag mouth. I guess all those extra holes in the pumpkin can be used for ventilation.

Anyway, the holiday madness will only increase the closer we get to Christmas. I am a true Christmas junkie. I love to decorate. I always decorate the day after Thanksgiving. I get out the Christmas music, make myself an eggnog (heavy on the nog) and get to work. I drag out box after box of decorations, and reminisce about where I got them and how long I've had them. I sing along with the Christmas carols. I drink more eggnog. I deck the halls and trim the tree and generally adorn everything that doesn't move with some sort of bow or something. I draw the line at my pets, though. I haven't gotten far enough along in my insanity to put antlers on my dogs.

Are we there yet?

Sometimes, we can learn a lot from children.

Well, maybe not about things like physics, whether the stock market will continue it's amusement park-like ride, or how to find a good mechanic. If you want to know how to irritate your sister without actually touching her, or even being close enough to touch her, but still causing the sister to yell, "MOM! HE'S ALMOST TOUCHING ME," they can teach you a thing or two.

One of the things that kids are really good at is asking questions. A lot of questions. Generally, the same question over and over again. As we were driving to town this morning (actually, we were still on our driveway) my son asked, "are we there yet?" Granted, we have a long driveway. But really, it is evident from the extremely wildlife-intensive surroundings that we are nowhere near town, nor are we going to be in the near future. "NO," I said.

And, I got to thinking. After visiting a dear friend of mine in "the big city" this weekend, I had been pondering whether I really am "there" yet. Am I where I thought I would be? Ten years after graduating from law school, had I even begun to achieve what I thought I would? I suppose the answer is no. If you asked me ten years ago if I would be living in a small town with three kids, two dogs, two cats, a mortgage, minivan and various poultry (don't ask), I would have taken the first tentative steps toward a full-fledged drinking problem.

Oh, pardon me. I was drinking my wine.

So, ARE we there yet? I always knew I wanted kids. I love my kids. They make me smile and have the ability to irritate me at the same time. I understand my mother more now. I have developed a very similar strained smile that tells the world I love my children, even though one of them is distracting me while the other two are currently committing minor acts of vandalism and theft in the checkout line at the Wal-Mart Super Center.

Oh, dear God.

I am living a very good life. I have a wonderful husband whom I love and am very proud of. I have three beautiful children who I would give up my life for. I have a big, new house and lots of land and I have pets. I could give up the pets, really. But, on the whole, my life is very good. It's just not the life I imagined.

I thought I would be a prosecutor for a large county. I figured I would run for judge someday, or at least District Attorney. I thought I would have a nice suburban lawn for my kids to frolic in, a street outside they could ride their bikes on, and neighborhood barbeques. I was supposed to have a nice car with fewer crumbs permanently attached to the upholstery, and a house with toys neatly organized in bins and a guest bedroom with 400 thread-count sheets just waiting for someone to come and watch me be fabulous.

I have some of those sheets somewhere. I believe they are being used to make a fort.

But, you know, I think about all those things, and when I look at my life now, I realize that even though it is different than the one I thought I would have, I still love it. I love (well, not really, but it's a small point) my minivan, and I love my husband, and my house, and my job (usually)and all the other things that surround me every day. I don't love the poultry. If that damn rooster crows one more time in the middle of the night I'm going to take the final steps toward becoming a real-life frontier woman. I have a hatchet and a great recipe for fried chicken.

I think my biggest challenge is to actually take the time to enjoy all of the things I have.

Am I where I thought I'd be? No.

But I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Nothin' But a Good Time...

We just wanted to re-live our youth.

That's why seven women (and one male "superfan") loaded into a red mini-van and a Ford Focus and drove for an hour to see POISON in concert at the Douglas County Fair. If a van full of thirty-something women with kids and pets and mortgages are not what Brett Michaels and his band were expecting when they decided to form a rock band 20 some years ago, then they should have given it a little more thought.

I drove the "party van." I won't elaborate much, except to say there were some mildly illegal activities going on in the back seat, and despite all knowledge and experience to the contrary, people actually took pictures of themselves engaging in said activities. I mean, come on. Don't you people watch the evening news????

So, we got to the concert, and I was struck immediately by the fact that each and every one of us had to run to the bathroom. This was no coincidence. I remember when I was young, and had the bladder elasticity of a 16 year old. Not anymore. We all made a beeline for the restrooms, and continued to do so for the rest of the night. I don't remember one time when we were all together unless it was in the bathroom line.

And then, the band came out. And we were all transported back to a time when big hair, makeup and skin-tight clothes were not just worn by the female fans of the band, but by the band members as well. Brett Michaels still knows how to shake it. The band can still crank out the party songs like it was yesterday. But I did have that feeling that they probably headed back to the tour bus to pop some Tylenol PM and get Ben-Gay rubdowns by the Rock of Love girls.

I made one purchase that night. The t-shirts were too expensive, and I don't wear t-shirts anyway. So, I went for the POISON g-string. At $20, it was the most expensive piece of elastic I have ever purchased.

Thanks for the memories, POISON. I'll be a fan forever. Not just because of the way your music makes me feel like a teenager again, but because it also got 7 thirty-something women (and one "superfan") with kids and mortgages and bladder control issues to get in a van, and pretend they were kids again, for one night at least.

Seoul Survivor

I just returned from a wonderful trip to Seoul, Korea. This was the first time I had ever really travelled on my own. My husband and I had to take separate flights, he was working the whole time, and I ventured out of my comfort zone in a major way. I had a great time.

Living in a small town as I do, it's easy to get overwhelmed when you suddenly find yourself in a city of over 13 million people. It's huge, hot, crowded and definitely a culture shock. This is only the second foreign country I have ever been to, unless you count Baja, Mexico, which I suppose I would, if I could remember any of it. My friends tell me I had a GREAT time. Oh, and Canada. I've been to Canada. I don't remember much of that either, but for entirely different reasons.

At any rate, I found myself on the streets of Seoul, wandering through huge shopping districts, finding deals on clothes and bags and all sorts of things. I was in shopping heaven. Everything but shoes, that is, since my size 10s were not well represented in the stores. I wandered into a shoe store, and this little woman took one look at my feet and said, "you go back of store...BACK OF STORE," while she waved me through. The largest shoes they had were still at least a size too small.

I also was intrigued by Korean cuisine. I am a very adventurous eater. I have no problem trying anything once, as long as it isn't illegal or won't kill you. After this experience, I was rather unimpressed. I never had anything to eat that I immediately wanted to find the recipe for. Koreans eat kimchi with every meal, and kimchi is rather...pungent. It is cabbage mixed with lots of chilis and spices and is then fermented for a while. Need I say more? Most of downtown Seoul smelled like kimchi. Well, that, and other things that weren't nearly so appealing. I also verified my belief that many Korean foods were actually started as bar dares after drinking too much Jinro. LIVE BABY OCTOPUS????? I mean, really.

The Korean people in general were very nice. I am fairly certain they spent a lot of time talking about me behind my back, however. I was alone, which seemed unusual, and I am very tall, so I had no chance of blending. Every time I would leave a store, the chattering would increase to breakneck speeds as the owners leaned out of their doors to watch me and my big feet leave.

I went to the DMZ for a sobering experience. And the tour I took of two palaces was truly breathtaking.

Did I mention the shopping?

I had a great time, and I was really proud of myself for branching out and not being too nervous to leave the hotel room.

And did I mention the shopping?

TGIS (Thank God it's SUMMER)

Summer is officially here tomorrow, and I can't say how glad I am. My kids are out of school, thus reducing the insane number of car trips I have to make every day. Now my kids can annoy each in the house, rather than in the car.

Summer is my favorite time of year. I look forward to the relaxing evenings when the sun is up a little longer than normal, enjoying a glass of wine on our deck, using our grill, and watching the kids play outside. Unfortunately, I don't seem to make as much time for these things as I used to. I am, instead, inside doing laundry, cleaning the house, or just being annoyed by the sheer amount of housework I have after the end of a day of work and taking care of the kids. It's overwhelming sometimes.

So, I am making a summer resolution. I never make new year's resolutions, so I don't really know why I am doing this at all, except that I am tired of feeling like I am not making the time to do the things with my family that are important. My summer resolution: spend each evening (that it's not pouring rain, anyway) outside with the kids and my husband. I want to be outside to hear my little Ella say for the 500th time, "watch me!" as she attempts some daredevil move involving her little tikes slide. I want to divorce the kids from the TV. I'd like to play catch with my kids in the yard.

So, that's what I'll do. Make time for the things that are really important.

I'm really looking forward to this summer. Now, all I have to do is go finish that laundry.

Ah, the challenges of being a mom. I realize now that my entire life I've been preparing for this. All of my education, life experience and the advice given to me by my parents have gone into this one moment: the moment where I walk into my son's room at 9:30 in the evening and find a pair of scissors, open packages of food, toys with cut strings and clothing with new and exciting holes where there were no holes before, and I am met with the following explanation: "I didn't do it."

This is when I start wondering if I am somehow failing as a parent. Either my son is walking around with wax earplugs in his ears or he just doesn't care to listen to me. Either way, I constantly feel like I'm talking to myself. Did he get this stubbornness from me? From my husband? From the aliens that clearly must have abducted my sweet boy and returned this pod person to me?

Now, I know I wasn't always the best child. I was stubborn and once locked my brother in a toy box. Somehow, this knowledge doesn't make me feel any better right now. My husband wasn't always the best child either (this, too, is no surprise). What I really need is to figure out how to deal with a child who blames the cat for the artwork on the wall, or his sleeping younger sister for the five half-eaten apples tossed under his bed.

This weekend, we are going to be travelling so that all three of the kids can be in a wedding. Luke will be the ring-bearer, Maggie and Ella will be the flower girls. This is really starting to stress me out! What if Ella decides to throw her dress over her head, or run off with the basket? Will Luke decide to show off and be goofy? I hope that I have taught them well enough to behave at such a special occasion. Of course, I see the way they act in church, and the incident where Luke said the word "WEINER" at the top of his lungs does not bode well.

I just hope he takes out the earplugs long enough to listen to me say, "I love you."