October 31, 2007

Halloween Fun

The town we live in doesn’t hold Trick or Treating on Halloween, unless the holiday falls on a Sunday. This year the annual event of going door to door to score some candy was held on October 28th.

On that morning Dawson and I attended a Halloween breakfast with my parents at the Moose Lodge. They were having a Spooktacular Event for the children and grandchildren of their members.

Dawson dressed up as a UPS delivery man. His costume was so darn adorable. So many people commented on how cute he was, and I was so proud of my little man.

We had a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, pancakes, french toast, bacon, sausage and hashbrowns. Dawson ate half his plate and I was very impressed. Typically he picks at his food because he’s holding out for the dessert.

Each child received a bag of candy and a small pumpkin to take home. Within minutes, Dawson had his bagged torn open and was scouring the miniature Kit-Kat bars and Dum-Dum suckers inside. There were a few pixie sticks (those pure sugar things) inside and my dad found it hilarious to pour the stuff right into Dawson’s mouth. I thought it was quite funny, too.

With the addition of the pumpkin Dawson chose at the party, we now have 9 pumpkins at home. Doug his anxiously waiting for me to cut them open so he can harvest the seeds. He likes to season them with Lawry’s salt and bakes them for several minutes. I’m told they are better than sunflower seeds. I’m not too keen on trying them. It just seems weird.

My mother is urging me to make a pumpkin pie from scratch. You know, with actual pumpkin stuff. I don’t have a clue how to do that. I saw a recipe in one of my many church cookbooks, but it sure seems like an awful lot of work for just one pie. I know I sound lazy, but I don’t even like pumpkin pie so I suppose that’s why I’m not eager to do this. Perhaps I’ll try it. It might take my mind off other things.

After the breakfast, we went back to my parents house to hang out until trick-or-treat time. Dawson and I fell asleep on my parents’ couch. I was extremely tired that day and I felt a little sick. Mom gave me three tylenol and the headache dissipated, but my stomach was gurgling. Perhaps I just ate something that didn’t agree with me.

At 2:30 we drove over to our friend Dish’s house. While her oldest son, Travis, went trick-or-treating with his friend, we took the younger kids around her neighborhood. Her daughter is a year older than Dawson and her youngest son is one year younger. In fact, all three kids were born in September with their birthdays just days apart.

Trick or Treating is from 3 to 6 p.m. around these parts. My brother Frank, my sister Rachel, her friend Shannon and Shannon’s son, Zander met up with us half way through our walk around the block. They were on hand to help guide the little kids. It’s tough to maneuver two toddlers and a preschooler all at once!

Dawson got way too much candy. His orange jack-o-lantern bucket was filled to the top with chocolatey goodness. (I confess: I may have snagged a few pieces when he wasn’t looking. ) We finished trick or treating after an hour and a half. The little ones were getting tired and cold.

I think they had a great time. Especially when we returned to the house. They had more fun running around, burning off the sugar, and playing with each other.

My friend asked me if I was going to take Dawson to another town to do some trick-or-treating today. I said no. How much candy does one child need?

More photos here.

October 30, 2007

Negative

I’m a complete idiot. You all were right. I looked at the stupid test again, too late after the initial reading. It’s a false positive. I knew it in the back of my mind. (I took the other post down because I can’t stand to look it. It reminds me of how dumb I am.)

But still, I held on to that little particle of possibility. A dust mite of hope.

I had a blood test done during my lunch hour yesterday. Just because I couldn’t bring myself to wait any longer. I wanted a second baby so badly, even my body was “acting pregnant”.

The doctor called back several hours later to say, “The hCG levels in your blood stream are not consistent with pregnancy.”

I knew that all along.

He gave me the usual blurb about waiting until I’ve missed a period and testing again, but I’m afraid I’ll be disappointed for the second time. Why bother.

I’m just not one of those women who can get pregnant by breathing the same air as her partner. It took three years to conceive Dawson. I should have known the same would be true with all future attempts to have another baby.

I’m so confused. My body is screwed up. I really felt pregnant, even before I peed on that stick. I had the nausea, the exhaustion, the loss of balance, the high temperature.

Apparently it was all psychological. The medical term for what I have experienced is “phantom pregnancy”. How fitting.

Happy Halloween.

October 27, 2007

Memories of the Moon

On Thursday my family attended a Halloween party at our church.  Dawson wore a spider costume I forgot I had.  I bought it several years ago before I had children.  I liked it because it was made of black, purple and green felt material and it was versatile in that a boy or a girl could wear it.  I knew that someday I’d have a child and he or she would make and adorable spider.

I dressed Dawson in a black turtleneck and black sweatpants and put the costume over the top.  Adorable indeed.

The “spider legs” of the costume were attached to each other with a long string that tied around Dawson’s wrists.  He loved to raise his arms so that the “spider legs” would raise up, too.

My parents came along and it was so nice to watch my father help Dawson decorate a brown paper sandwich bag to carry his treats in.  My mother was having a fantastic time admiring all the children in their costumes.  And Doug was just happy to have someone else to talk to while I ran around, insanely taking pictures.

Dawson loved decorating a pumpkin with stickers and yarn.  He made the cutest little punkin’.  We all had some Halloween treats and decorated pumpkin cookies, too.

The five of us went to the party in my dad’s truck and when we were driving home, Dawson pointed to the full moon in the dark sky.

“Look, Poppa!  Ders da moon!” he said.

My mother was sitting next to me in the back seat and she asked, “Do you remember when the Doodlebug was only 18 months old, and he could say just the one word, ‘moon’?”

I closed my eyes and remembered the days when Dawson would sit in his car seat and look out the window as we drove to our destination.

“Moooooon.” he would say, as he watched the pie in the sky.  He repeated the word several times until he was certain he had it right.   He was our little moon pie.

“I remember,” I told my mother.  “He loved to say the word over and over again.”

At that moment I realized that I’ve become so unaware of time. My memory from 19 months ago, felt like it happened decades before.

Where does all the time go?  Why haven’t I been paying closer attention?  Why haven’t I been writing these memories down like I once did?  When did I get so busy and stressed out?

I’m so thankful that my mother was able to help me stop and reflect.  Before I know it, my little boy will be grown up and I will be grasping to hold on to these memories.  But what if I forget?

The thought scares me.  I want to hold on to every moment until the end of time.  I want to write down even the most boring details, because they won’t seem so boring in twenty years.  I’ll want to remember the good and the dull.

I made a promise to use blogging as a tool to remember the times of our lives that are important.  But sometimes I’m too busy to take the time to blog it all.  And then I feel bad about it.  I used to write in a journal, but even that became tiresome.  What’s worse is that I love scrap booking, but somehow I got behind with my archiving.  (By nine months!  Good grief!)

How do you record your memorable moments?  Are you organized?  Do you blog exclusively or do you do other things to preserve your precious memories?  I’d love to read about what works for you.

October 26, 2007

Kids Just Don’t Like Vegetables

When I was a little girl I hated vegetables; well most green ones, anyway. My favorites were carrots, corn, cucumbers, lettuce and tomatoes. Put some broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus, green beans, peas (I would eat those fresh from the pod, but never cooked) or zucchini in front of me and I would declare war.

My mother was easy on me. If I didn’t like the vegetable du jour, I’d start to whine. Mom would say, “You don’t have to eat the beans as long as you eat everything else.”

But my father was tough. He was strict. There was no foolin’ Daddy. If we didn’t eat the thing we didn’t like, we weren’t allowed to leave the table.

He would lecture about the importance of eating vegetables, (you know, because HE SAID SO), or say that I was setting a bad example for my younger brother and sister (they hated vegetables, too), or tell us a story about the starving children in Ethiopia (and we should BE THANKFUL he didn’t trade us in for Ethiopian kids who appreciate food).

One of my most vivid memories is of my father telling me that I had to eat the vegetable on my plate or he’d double the helping and I’d still have to eat it. I sat at the dining room table, arms folded at my chest and yelled, “I’M NEVER GOING TO FORCE MY KIDS TO EAT VEGETABLES! YOU ARE SO MEAN! KIDS DON’T LIKE VEGETABLES, DADDY!”

I thought for sure this would get me off the hook. I was most definitely wrong. My father told me if I didn’t like vegetables as a kid, I wasn’t going to like them when I was older, and he made me eat two servings of green beans. He didn’t force feed me, but the fear of punishment was strong enough to make me try to eat the freakin’ things. I got up to vomit when I was finished. To this day, I can’t eat green beans from a can.

What’s more ironic is that the very same vegetables I hated as a child are the ones I can’t get enough of today. I have to wonder if there’s a method behind that madness.

My parents never hid vegetables in other foods. I asked my mother if she had ever thought of it, and she said, “What for? You kids would have figured it out and never ate my cooking again!” She makes a good point.

Several weeks ago we had dinner at my parents house and Dawson refused to eat anything. Not steak, not baked potato, and certainly not mixed veggies. I tried to get him to take a bite of something, ANYTHING, to no avail. Finally I put my foot down.

“Dawson, if you don’t eat some veggies, I’m not going to take you to see Go, Diego, Go!” I said.

“No, Mumma. Dawson not eat those. Those are yucky.” he replied.

“Okay, then. We’re staying home and Daddy and Murphy can go to the show.” I told him.

My father and mother started snickering. I was getting desperate.

“Boy…I remember someone saying they would never make their kids eat vegetables.” my father said. “Do you remember that, Monica?”

“Oh, yes. Dana was so sure she’d never use the same tactics we tried,” Mom replied. “Look who finally realized how tough it is to get kids to eat!”

They were thoroughly enjoying this. I suppose they earned the right to laugh about it. I did say it. Even I remember that.

Dawson wasn’t always a picky eater. Even his daycare person tells me he eats so good at lunch. But get him home and he wants nothing but crackers, spaghetti noodles and chocolate milk.

I heard that Jessica Seinfeld wrote a book called Deceptively Delicious, in which she cleverly sneaks puréed veggies into other food recipes to get her kids to eat! I don’t see anything wrong with that!

I’ve been known to hide finely chopped zucchini and carrot in my spaghetti sauce, and surprisingly, Dawson loves it. I tried to feed him zucchini slices before and he turned his nose at them. (Actually he took a bite of one, thinking it was a cucumber, and the sour look on his face was priceless.)

Last week I made mashed potatoes that were really half taters and half smashed cauliflower. (Ooh! Smashed Cauliflower sounds like a drunken dish, doesn’t it? Or a really cool rock band!) Dawson seemed to enjoy it.

I think I might have to pick up a copy of Deceptively Delicious, just see what other mouthwatering recipes I can try!

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This post is part of a Blog Blast sponsored by the Parent Bloggers Network. If you’d like to participate, click here for details. One winner will be chosen at random to win a $250 gift card for Williams Sonoma. I could definitely use that!

October 25, 2007

Magna-Doodlebug

I bought my son a Magna-Doodle yesterday. I probably never would have purchased this toy if it wasn’t on sale.

Magna-Doodles bring back sad memories of my grandmother’s struggle with communication as the result of her many strokes. Grandma Alice couldn’t speak and she wrote her responses to conversations on a Magna-Doodle or dry erase board.

When we went out to breakfast with my parents a few weeks ago, a little area of the dining room had a box of toys ready for impatient and hungry children to play with while waiting for their toast and eggs. Dawson chose to play with the Magna-Doodle and he loved it so much.

I watched him draw shapes, faces, and other scribbles. He made a near perfect circle and was so proud of himself! So, when I saw that these toys were on sale at Target I decided to purchase one. I was going to wait until Christmas to give it to him, but I started to get a little sad.

My grandmother died December 6, 2005. I just didn’t want to have sad memories of her when Dawson opened that toy at Christmas. I’m certain this sounds completely irrational, ridiculous even. But I came home and gave Dawson the toy.

“Mumma! This for me??” Dawson asked. The smile on his face was priceless. He was so happy.

“Yes, buddy. That is for you. Do you remember what that is?” I asked.

“Uh-huh, this my drawing toy.” Dawson said.

“Yeah. It’s called a Magna-Doodle. For my Doodlebug.” I told him.

“Thanks, Mumma, for buying this for me.” he said. He ran over to me and gave me a hug. It was the best hug ever.

Dawson spent the entire evening drawing and erasing and drawing some more. I couldn’t believe how much he loved his new toy.

This morning as we were getting ready, he asked if he could take it to Renee’s house.

“Okay, but you have to share with the other kids and don’t lose the magnetic shapes, okay?”

“I promise Mumma. Dawson share with all the kids, kay?

“Okay.”

He clutched the toy in his arms and we got into the car. He drew pictures all the way to daycare. When we got inside, he ran to show his friends. As I was leaving, Dawson stopped playing, ran to me and said, “Love you, Mumma.”

Who knew a $10 toy could bring so much joy and love to my little Magna-Doodlebug?