Worry

I've sworn off of Twitter and Facebook for the week, which means that all of the little chatter in my head has just been bouncing off itself instead of finding a home in 14-point type (confession: I have no idea what size type is used on either website).

It's been a stressful week. Fairly Odd Father has had some heavy things happen at work, and the kids have been taunting me with "I'm getting sicker!" vs. "I'm getting better!" on alternate days, but never on the same days.

On Wednesday, I brought Jilly to the doctor to check out her never-ending cough because the day before she had gone pale and tired, falling asleep on the couch at 10am. We had also heard of a friend's son who was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia after having H1N1, so this information was rattling around in my brain as I watched her nap.

The doctor listened to her lungs and proclaimed it was not pneumonia. Just asthmatic wheezing probably triggered by a virus. Well, hot damn! That's like being told your flight will be landing on time after all, but you'll be going to an airport 1,000 miles from your final destination.

Then, the doctor looked at Belly, slumped in the chair and coughing. He listened to her lungs and said she was making "bronchial sounds", and I should make sure they don't get much worse. Awesome. So, last night, guess who was up half the night listening to her firstborn cough her head off, thinking "is this worse?". I'd bring her in to the doctor's today to have him check her lungs but. . .

D woke me in the middle of the night to tell me he had thrown up all over his bed. And, he wasn't kidding. I even have to wash his dozens of stuffed animals. His lungs sounded fine on Wednesday, but how about giving him a little intestinal distress for kicks?

The irony of all of this is that the doctor was able to vaccinate the three of them against H1N1 while we were in the office on Wednesday. Good thing that will keep them healthy this winter.

It's good to have foraging friends

I don't normally eat things I find growing outside.

Those black berries? Will kill you.

See these mushrooms? Don't even touch!

But, on a recent hike with three other families, I dined al fresco on things we found outside. Things I never, ever would have put in my mouth before.

And it was good.

First we found Hickory Nuts. These round green leathery things just fall out of a (stop me if you know this) Hickory Tree (the Shagbark Hickory in our neck of the woods). The cover pulls away and there is a hard tan nut inside.

Hard tan nut

You just crush the nut with a rock (or, um, your foot) and eat the nut meat inside. We were all like little rabid squirrels trying to get the edible stuff out of the crushed shells.

Then, one of the nature-smart moms looked across the field, pointed and told us to "go!". So, we went.

Everyone gathered around the bush with the silvery green leaves.

faces swirled on purpose; my friends don't really look like this

This bush had Buffaloberries all over it. They were red with little yellow dots on them, like speckled jelly beans. They were sour and yummy and plentiful. We ate them like hungry bears.

aren't they gorgeous?

I may not be able to live in the wild for a week, but I did appreciate learning a few new things. Although, I don't care who I'm with: I'm never eating a mushroom we find in the woods.

Finally, of all the cool things we learned, my favorite is this:

My little boy just loves big, furry caterpillars.

So far, so good

D says "C'mon, we're going to be late!"

This week, my five-year-old, "never-spent-a-day-in-daycare/preschool" son started school.

And it was good.

He hasn't yet balked at rushing out of the house a few minutes before nine (all you school veterans can smirk at me here), and there are no tears at drop off.

And other than quite literally throwing his coat at a teacher when he needed help putting it on, he seems to have behaved himself in the classroom and on the playground.

I think we made the right decision.

A cowgirl, a witch and a pirate walk into a bar. . .

NO, I didn't bring the kids into a bar. . .although I was mighty pleased that a couple of neighbors had "adult beverages" for us Trick-or-Treating chaperones. I think perhaps this should be a tradition: offer the adults a little treat of their own while you are handing out the Smarties and Butterfingers.

My little cowgirl, witch and pirate had a mighty fine time too.

Although watch out for that cowgirl---someone jumped out of a bush to scare her, and she drew her pistol at them.

Got candy? Here's how to get rid of it

Do you wish there was more candy in your house right now?

Yeah, me neither. We have mounds of it here, in all its pre-packaged loveliness. For now, I'm stealing my kids' Butterfingers, but in a few days I'm going to want it out of the house. Yet the thrifty part of me just can't toss it in the trash.

So, instead, I'll send it overseas, where the good men and women in our military can enjoy the fruits of our trick-or-treating.

If this sounds interesting to you, I've found two relatively easy ways to do this:

1) Operation Gratitude: While Halloween Candy isn't exactly at the top of their list for "most needed" items, it is something they happily accept. They even suggest you hold a "candy collection drive" among your friends and neighbors (you must mail your packages before December 5th). I haven't seen their flyer, which you can request by emailing OPGrat@gmail.com, but think that all types of candy are ok, as long as it is individually wrapped (no homemade popcorn balls, perishable fruits or baked goods). They also are looking for personal letters for the troops, so now is a good time to have the kids do some cute holiday coloring pages to include with your candy.

Operation Gratitude's website is a little confusing, but details about where to mail (scroll to the bottom of the page) are listed on the site . Note that you are only paying to ship to California (not Iraq or Afghanistan), but you can include an $11 check to cover the cost of postage overseas--just send the check separately from your candy.

2) Another great way to unload your Halloween candy is to check out the Any Soldier website. Here, packages are delivered to individuals volunteers who then pass them on to soldiers who don't get much mail. That soldier then shares his package with his troop.

I found this website even more confusing than Operation Gratitude, but there are a ton of FAQ's to help you along. Any Soldier is great if you really want to specify which branch of the armed services your package is to go (look at menu under "Home"). You are also more likely to hear back from the recipient of your package since it goes to a specific Any Soldier volunteer. These volunteers may also request other things their troops need, so you can round out your care package with more than candy if you so desire.

Now, aren't you glad you let the kids talk you into two straight hours of trick-or-treating?

Sticks and Stones

This is me at the beginning of my 17th year, the summer before my senior year in high school:

What do you think when you see this photo? "Nice suit!" "Whoa, perm!" "Looks like someone should wear sunscreen!"

Or, do you blurt out what a guy in my high school said when I showed him the snapshots of my friends and I at the beach: "Wow, I never realized your legs were so fat."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he started backpedaling and tried to make it sound like a joke. I smacked him on the arm and tried to laugh it off.

But, I didn't really laugh.

It's 25 years later and the memory of that moment still makes me wince. It makes me feel shame, as if I did something wrong.

One comment planted a seed that grew and grew, helped along by other moments in college, until I did some drastic things in order to achieve some "ideal" look. I'm fortunate that, years later, I no longer battle the demons of extreme weight control, but that doesn't mean I always love what I see. And as the holidays of excess---Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas---approach, I have to remind myself that I am so much more than the size of my thighs or stomach.

With two girls looking at me for guidance, I want for them to know that their mom is ok with her body now. But, for mercy's sake, please don't let it take them as long as it took me to get to this point.

Television? Oh, my kids never watch. . .(cough)

"Mommy, can I play Lego Batman?", my little wii-obsessed five-year-old son asked me sweetly.

I glanced at the clock and relented, "OK, but only for 20 minutes because we have to leave for your sister's dance class."

"How long is that?"

"Um, twenty minutes?? Well, it. . . is. . .um, it's a little while. . ."

"Is it one SpongeBobs or two SpongeBobs?"

Oh. My. Goodness. He is telling time, not by counting minutes, but by measuring them against the length of an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.

I can't decide if this is brilliant or pathetic.