Halloweeniness

Last night, for the first time, the whole family went trick-or-treating. Prior to this year, one of us has always stayed back to catch any ToTers that came to the house. But, since we only ever get four or five sets of people, we decided not to mess with it this year. Also, it was unseasonably nice out last night, AND Norah was old enough to put into a costume for the first time. So, since there was such a perfect confluence of circumstances, we decided to stick it to whoever might be unfortunate enough to choose our street to ToT on.

Because we're still relatively new to the ToT experience, we weren't very familiar with the best places to hit in town. Fortunately, we heard through some friends about a few blocks in one of the nicer stretches of houses where most of the residents (90% old folks, I would wager) take Halloween pretty seriously. Without further ado, we loaded up the kids and ventured out of our neighborhood and into the one that offered the highest ratio of goodies for the kids to actual steps taken.

For our laziness, Gabe was rewarded with a pumpkin just about full of candy.

Because I have a nasty habit of eating ALL candy that comes into our house (quite selflessly, I think--really, I'm only looking out for the welfare of the rest of my family by sparing them the exposure to the unhealthy stuff), we don't tend to have much around at any given time. Furthermore, Gabe has stuck pretty exclusively to M&Ms whenever given the choice of what kind of candy he'd want. Thus, he's really not been able to experience the wide variety of delicious options that are out there.

He's been making up for lost time so far today, though, trying all kinds of new things. I've been stalling and carefully parceling out treats as slowly as I can, but I fully expect multiple sugar highs and upset stomachs as this week progresses.

Most notably, he discovered Pixie Stix today. This thinly veiled kid crack has always been one of my personal favorites. It was pretty amusing watching him "eat" it. Of course he couldn't understand why he couldn't get it out after he sucked on the paper. Then, after I tore off the slobbery end, he ended up dumping most of the rest of the stick all over his face and shoulder in his exuberance, but he liked it enough that he wanted another right after he finished, which I didn't oblige because he only has one left and I'm trying desperately to teach him to pace himself.

Anyway, here are some of the pictures we got.

About two minutes after we got her in her costume, and very nearly the last time she smiled the rest of the evening because of the costume.

The costume with the hood up. Really, this was the ideal costume for Norah. She was born to be a bumblebee. The only other costume MORE suitable than an insect that flies despite a girth that seemingly defies the laws of physics would be a sumo wrestler. We figured it was a little chilly for her to be in nothing but a diaper all night, though.

"Posing" on the porch. Not nearly as interesting as the picture of him in his cowboy outfit picking his nose last year, but you take what you can get, I suppose.

Despite how terrible it is, this was the best picture of the two of them standing near each other that we could get. Neither of them was interested in standing still and looking cheerfully at the camera.

Gabe and Finn. Finn's costume even lit up. Obviously, someone's parents were willing to put a lot more work into their child's costume than we were.

On the trick-or-treat path. Gabe is NOT goose stepping, no matter what it looks like.

One of the first houses they hit. Once they got into the rhythm of it, Gabe and Finn were running at a sprinter's pace from house to house and it was all we could do to keep up with them. I guess when candy is involved, it doesn't take kids very long to figure the system out. I wish we could apply that kind of learning curve to everything else he does.

This was a pretty typical look coming from Norah through the evening. She didn't like being cooped up in the stroller, but the boys were moving so fast that she really didn't have any other choice. Such judgment and scorn in those eyes.

Story Time Returns!

This morning, Gabe had a meltdown. Because it's been pretty nice for the last week, we've been taking more or less daily trips down to the nearest park so Gabe and Norah could goof around for a little bit. But this morning it was just too windy and chilly, so I made an executive decision not to get them out in it. This did not sit well with Gabe. He threw a good old fashioned hissy fit complete with Norah-esque throwings of himself onto the floor and wailing and the figurative gnashing of teeth. And the whining. God the whining.

Actually, I knew it was an especially severed case almost immediately. Gabe has a progression of tantrum throwing. He starts with the "dweedling" (this is an obscure reference to a friend of mine who, once upon a time, would convince us to do things he wanted us to by getting in our faces and saying, "Dweedle, dweedle, dweedle" forever until we caved in--and, though it's obscure, I find it particularly relevant)--he unabashedly keeps repeating his request (this is the whining part, but he carries it throughout the tantrum) until I cave in. If I don't, he starts sobbing. About a minute into the sobbing, he usually progresses to the guilt-laying stage by saying, "I am crying because you are mean." To which I invariably reply, "YOU are mean for being emotionally manipulative." For some reason, he always blows that response off. The next step is making threats. His go-to threat is "I'm not going to play with you anymore." At first we tried to talk him out of this threat, but now we usually just say, "That's fine. I'll just play with Norah instead." That tends to break him out of that funk quickly. If he still hasn't gotten what he wants and it's something he REALLY wants, this is where the tantrums begin. If it's severe enough, he'll work himself up to a state where he literally can't breath.

Today, he skipped from the whining straight to the working himself into a frenzy state, so I knew he meant business. I needed a quick remedy.

I tried to counter, as I always do, with "fun" alternatives that he always does--playing with his blocks, watching a movie upstairs, reading a book, driving his cars around, whatever. None of it worked for him. There was a serious playground fixation in place.

So I quickly visited my repertoire of distraction options and settled on story time. It's something we do fairly regularly, but, to date, we haven't tried anything like an involved story with actual characters and the like. Usually it's just "X is playing with Y and they have a picnic" or something simple like that. Today, I wanted him to start working on character and setting development.

So I told him to go upstairs and grab some friends. He threw down five or six of his favorites and we started to go over some back story.

First, he grabbed Nole (a white and grey dog--I didn't take new pictures, I'm afraid, but you might be able to make them out in the videos). I couldn't remember who Nole was, except that his name was Nole, so I asked Gabe what he did. "Is he an astronaut or a trash collector or an accountant or a teacher?" I spit-balled. "Trash collector!" he replied excitedly. Great start, I thought. There are a few places we could go with that.

Next was Fat Sheep, "What does Fat Sheep do?" "He's a baby!" he answered. So I put Fat Sheep in Norah's little activity saucer. Amy Horsie, it was decided, was Fat Sheep's mom. And Molly Moose was our friend Sandy (who stayed the night here last night, the only reason she was fresh in Gabe's mind--I've got a video of them playing together, too, because the kids LOVE Sandy and were being pretty entertaining last night in her honor, but I'll probably wait to post that next time). Buzz Lightyear and Soupie, it was decided, would play themselves because they are both superheroes. We had an emergency situation brewing and people were going to need rescuing.

Obviously, this was a bit of a let down when we started with something as promising as a trash collector, but emergencies are Gabe's bread and butter right now, so it wasn't the least bit surprising.

We obviously need to work on his build-ups a little. Being the "straight to business" type, Gabe didn't mess around with his saving those in trouble. What you don't see, is that the trouble was supposed to be a burglar. Unfortunately, we used the only other stuffy close by to play the role--Norah's Lulu (which is her wubbie and the doll she carries with her all the time and sleeps with). Seeing Lulu involved, Norah came and took her back before I could even get the camera set. Still, Gabe did a good job saving the day.

After the first take, I got some more video just to see how things would progress. Norah wasn't content with sitting in the wings, watching, and she got herself more involved by disrupting everything Gabe was trying to do. After the first save, Gabe did manage to build his own little storyline. He continues in the next video.

The story here was supposed to be Gabe's friends riding in a submarine to get to Tractorland and Combineland. The pillows represented the submarine. I have no idea where Tractorland and Combineland were supposed to be as Norah never let the story progress beyond putting the pillows on the floor. As evidenced by these videos, it's pretty clear that Norah's primary source of entertainment these days is doing everything in her power to annoy Gabe.

Ah, To Be Young and Costumed

There are many things that I don't miss about being a child: the lack of self determination, the teasing, the peer pressure, the "fitting in," the feathered hair. But there is one thing that I miss a quite a bit: being able to wear whatever you want, whenever you want.

Perhaps it is a longing for simpler days when the imagination was allowed to roam free. When I could pretend to be a dinosaur or a Transformer or Luke Skywalker with impunity. Or maybe it's just because I like to wear weird clothes. Whatever it is, I miss being able to, quite out of the blue, put on a piece of a costume at random and go about my business as usual.

That's what Gabe did this morning. He had us put on his fireman hat from his Halloween costume. And, as he sat in the living room, watching his new favorite show ("Dino Dan," which is pretty terrible--it is the story of a kid, maybe seven years old, who is an utter social retard. He is completely obsessed with dinosaurs. EVERYTHING relates back to dinosaurs to his way of thinking. And, somehow, he is surrounded with friends who don't mock his every word. Also, he sees these dinosaurs roaming around the real world and interacts with them. This is the most confusing--and for me irritating--part, as other animals--like their family dog--react to the dinosaurs, but nobody but Dan ever sees them. Thus, either he lives in a world where computer animated dinosaurs rampage unknown to all humans or Dan is crazy and, somehow, that craziness spreads to nearby animals and other non-sentient beings who couldn't "back his story up." Either way, it's also a terrible show and the kid who plays Dan is awful.).

What was I talking about? Oh, right, costuming. Here's a picture of Gabe with his PJs and hat on as he eats animal crackers for breakfast and watches his show.

The Nice Thing about Being a Shut-In

It's impossible to swing the dead cat that's been missing for the past two months only to be found buried under a pile of twenty year old newspapers without hitting a sad or depressing story about a shut-in. But I think that is due, in large part, to media bias. Nobody wants to hear about the shut-in who kept his/her house in order and lived a safe, moderately productive, but exceedingly boring life, so nobody does. All we hear about are the people who balloon up to 900 lbs., collect their feces in pizza delivery boxes, find dead poodles buried in enveloping folds of flesh, and have to be airlifted by helicopter out of a hole in the roof to be removed from their house when they die. It's sad, really, and quite unfair.

What is it the shut-in wants out of life? Why do they refuse to leave the comfort and safety of their own houses? The answer is simple: people. Most people suck, and when faced with the option of going out and facing sucky people or staying home, for some it is an easy choice. Why bother to interact with people who will undoubtedly come to disappoint expectations when it's SO much easier just to avoid them altogether? And then there is the house itself. The common home has everything one needs to be happy--food, comfort, entertainment, and peace and quiet.

I can certainly understand the appeal. But I don't have the mettle to become a full-fledged shut-in. At best, I could only ever hope to achieve the title of dilettante because, frankly, I need SOME human interaction to be happy. I am perfectly happy to take up the role of "homebody," or someone who will generally choose to stay at home over many social options, but that's about as far as I'll take it--and it doesn't take much coaxing to get me, albeit grudgingly, to get out of the house to do stuff.

If left to my own devices, that is. Having small children has inflicted a certain degree of shut-initude on me. I know it's POSSIBLE to fill my days and life with excursions into the world of people with my children in tow, but I'm fine with generally passing on most of these. The way see it, I'm doing it for the kids. Sure it might be "good" for them to get out and do stuff more often, but consider the circumstances and decide whether it would be ACTUALLY good or not. Is it better for my kids to grow up seeing me react negatively to the imbecilic actions of other people or to be shielded from that by staying at home? Or consider my reactions to them. While out in public, I am a bit of a battleaxe. I don't tolerate misbehaving of any sort. And, while it's good for them to have SOME experiences in these situations so they can learn proper social etiquette, would it not be better to limit those experiences so they don't come to associate "going out" with "constantly being harassed to act civilized"?

I don't know the answer, and, frankly, this all feels like me making excuses. But it sounded good in my head a little bit ago.

Anyway, let's discuss one of the positive aspects of being a semi-shut-in that I discovered this last month.

You can do pretty much anything you want to with your "look" while you're a shut-in. It's kind of great, really. Because I don't have to meet up with people who will judge me based on how kempt I am, I had the freedom to prep my face for the Halloween costume I worked up for our party last weekend. I went as Mr. T.

Me, pitying the fool; Libby, doing whatever Punky Brewster did (annoying an old man, I think, as I never watched that show much).

For the benefit of this costume, I was able to grow out my beard for the last month. Admittedly, I probably could have done this even if I worked a regular job without having to explain myself TOO much. But you'll also notice that my head is mostly shaved--because I don't believe in half-assing a costume if I can avoid it. After the party, we finished the shave job, so now I look like this:


Had I been regularly interacting with people and worrying what they would think about how I look, there's a better than average chance that I wouldn't have had the guts to see what I look like with a shaved head. As it happens, I have a head shape that nature has already been kind enough to convince us is normal to be smooth--the egg. Really, if I could just add about a pound of straight jowl, my head would look exactly like it should be cartoned up and sold with eleven others in the refrigerator section.

I'm not saying it's the best look for me--but I might be willing to say that it's the best look available to me considering the follicly challenged nature of my head.

Actually, I wish I could do the mohawk. I think the Mr. T look really worked for me. I looked tough as hell. And, since I'm NOT tough as hell, it would have been a great trick to play on the rest of the world. But the wig that we used looked like a mangled rodent, and bits of my head are still sticking to my pillow where we weren't able to get off all of the spirit gum to hold it on. So it's not a look that I'll be repeating any time soon.

Either way, without being a shut-in, there's a very real chance that I never would have tried it out. So, suck on that "Hoarders," being a shut-in isn't ALL bad!

Exercising with Kids Around

Last night, shortly before the kids' bed time, Libby decided to do a few stretching exercises. I've mentioned before how difficult it is to establish any sort of reliable exercise routine with small kids in the house, but I've never had any good video to offer as proof. Here you go.

I'm Bringing Back Feathered Hair (with Gabe's Help)

Gabe's hair is crazy right now. Libby is letting it grow out again, but I don't think her plan to let it grow until next summer is going to pan out this year. Last year, it wasn't a problem because we kept cutting it until August or so. This year we only cut it once, in May or June, and it's already getting pretty shaggy. Right now, it's a good kind of shaggy, but I bet by the end of the year we'll be moving away from the "cute kid with disheveled hair" phase and into the "little kid with weird hippy hair" phase.

Anyway, Saturday night, after washing Gabe's hair, I decided to try and comb some of the crazy out of it. I decided to do this by combing it straight back. When he got out of the bath, he looked like Draco Malfoy, but then, as it dried, something FAR awesomer happened. The hair on top started to part into a feather. For some reason, the hair on the top of his head stays pretty straight but the stuff on the sides and in the back curls. As it dried, the stuff in the back turned into what we used to call a "duck's ass" when I was in grade school.

It was fantastic.

It didn't help that he was eating pears the entire time I was trying to take these pictures. But look at that magnificent feather!

Libby's back there cutting up her pears. For the first time since we tried to make pear wine (which tasted like a mixture of fresh yard clippings and diesel fuel), we did something productive with the pears in our yard. We get a ton or two most years, but they are pretty flavorless and awful, so mostly the squirrels and neighbors who haven't tried them before get the majority of them. She decided to make some pear juice this year. It wasn't bad. We're trying to figure out a way to make it into hard cider because success with that would propel our pear trees from Nuisance status clear up the scale to Enabler.

The Duck's Ass look. VERY popular when I was a kid. Technically, both sides are supposed to meet in the middle, kind of carrying the part from the top of the head all the way around to meet in the back. This is what it did originally, but since we didn't put any hairspray (which we would have used in grade school) in it, his hair relaxed somewhat. So, maybe not so much a duck's ass as a duck's leg or belly.

Unfortunately, we already put together a fireman costume for Halloween for him, because this experiment offered me a glimpse of a truly inspired costume--the Greatest American Hero. If we could get Gabe to sit still long enough to curl his hair on the top, it would be PERFECT. I even found a web site that sells kid sized GAH shirts. It's gonna be AWESOME next year (for me, because, honestly, I'm one of about fifty people in the world who still remembers the Greatest American Hero well enough to want to dress my three year old up like him).

The Kids Do Some Cute Things

After their naps (well, Gabe's nap and Norah's "nap" today--yesterday, it was just the opposite), the kids were in rare form, so I thought I'd get a little video of them.

Sweet lord the video worked! This would have been slightly more amusing if I'd gotten the camera turned on about five seconds earlier as Norah walked head first into the door. Still, pretty cute, though.

Then I followed up with a little more of them dancing, and Gabe practicing his piece of performance art that he's been working on with his microphone.