Dear Somebody

It was a hectic morning this morning. I rushed to get Jack and Emma up, completely forgetting that I had not set aside enough time to clean Jack's wound and change his bandages. This turns out to be a lengthy undertaking because it involves encouraging a squirmy five year old to be brave in the face of a hydrogen peroxide sting. (As a side note, if you are not aware, Jack had a fairly severe run-in with the treadmill upstairs recently. He was walking backwards on it (duh!) and lost his footing. Now he shows his back, where there is a whopping friction burn, to just about everyone who will look.)

(An additional side note, but a little further sideways, is that THAT is the most action that the treadmill has seen in a few months.)

Anyway, all this to say that I had a rushed morning. It was a rushed morning that left me no time to make a lunch for myself. I had to eat the school's cashew chicken lunch today, and with it I received a fortune cookie.

Getting the school's cashew chicken lunch has its pros and cons. On the one hand, it doesn't taste awful, but they do add waaaay too much salt to the sauce. On the plus side, you come away with a nice fortune that has been written so generically that there is no room for questioning in your mind. It absolutely, so completely, MUST HAVE been the fortune that was yours-by-design.

My fortune cookie told me, "Someone in your life needs a letter from you."

So okay... "Someone" is strategically elusive and vague. If I put any stock into the tiny message that this piece of paper conveys, it becomes a bit overwhelming. Someone could be him, her, or so-and-so over there. Someone could be you. To play it safe and cover all the bases, I'll address the following letter this way:


Dear Someone,

Yesterday was a horrible day, but today has been so much better, thankfully. Jim comes home soon, and for that I am happy. I've missed him.

The job is busy. I stayed up grading until 11:30 last night, and that is my least favorite part of my work. I could make it easier on myself by not letting such a stack build up in my bag, but we've already been over how I have this procrastinating tendency built into my personality. Will you come to my house and fold my laundry, by the way?

How are you these days? What is it that's exciting and new in your life? Do you have big weekend plans? Want to get a coke sometime and talk about the really important things... like how we both tried in earnest to watch the new show "Fringe" recently? I mean tried (really hard) to give it a chance but that we both decided it was completely stupid? We could then go on to say how we thought that it was trying awfully hard, too hard, to be the next "LOST". We could even point out that it uses the same strategy to create suspense - an urgent, loud, and uncomfortable dissonant chord (and then, cut to commercial).

Or maybe it would just be simpler to give me a call. Yeah, I think your overly salty, cashew chicken stained fortune would read this way, "Someone in your life needs a phone call from you."

Sincerely,

*Whit, Whiteny in the Hood, Whitnella, Nit-Whit, Parrot Fart, Knucklehead, Jones, Whitney, Mrs. H., Hoodenpyler, Mrs. Puddingpile (by a little boy with a speech problem), and all the other names I've been called by the Someones of my life.

Aunt Vicki? Did you already get this fortune yesterday? My phone rang before I could hit "publish". Love you!

The Laundry Monster

The worst of all of the heinous household chores, if you ask me, would be folding the clean laundry after it's been through the wash. I'd rather get up close and personal with a gross toilet to be honest. Here's why:

I have a habit of taking the warm bundle of clothing out of the dryer, walking into my bedroom, and putting it down in a pile beside my bed. Inevitably the pile grows and grows. This is a problem, and it would very simply be solved if I'd just take my grandmother's advice. "Whitney, just fold the clothes right when they come out of the dryer!" I recognize the wisdom in this advice. The loads are small when they come out of the dryer, and it would take two minutes to fold and put the stacks away neatly. I'd save myself tons of grief, and I'd probably even save myself a little ironing time too. Isn't it funny that I know this but still manage to repeat the error over and over?

I let the laundry monster grow and multiply. And then some Saturday (usually one with gorgeous weather) when I can stand it no longer, I spend an hour folding, apart from my family. This is a horrible habit. You end up with a mound of wadded up eyesores in the middle of your bedroom floor. You trip on the stupid stack when you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Do as I say, not as I do. Fold your dad gum laundry.

Ummm... hold it. Wait just one second. It turns out that an unruly laundry pile delivers much happiness to silly little girls. Nevermind. Let's kill the laundry monster another day.

Off To The Park With Us

It was a crazy week, wasn't it? Whew! Midweek, it occurred to us that we were due for an evening of picnic and play. Off to the park with us. Sometimes paper grading and baths will wait, don't you think?

Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

Remember when Emma refused to eat? Yeah, well... back to square one, I guess.

I have been trying to push the table food idea with Emma. She fiddles with table food mostly. And if the baby food has lumps or larger particles in it, well, you might as well just forget it. She is so passionate about the rejection of these new textures that she has pretty much regressed back to total and complete mouth clamping.

Here is "Beating My Head Against a Wall" and "Beating My Head Against a Wall, The Sequel." She's a stubborn one, and I love her. Enjoy.

Fall Is Here!

Fall is here, and with it has come Hoodenpyle busy-ness! Here are some highlights:

Jim recently watched the Tour of Missouri cyclists come through the Springfield area for the second year in a row. He is really quite the pro at acquiring autographs, I have to say. Last year he got several sharpied scribble-scrabbles of the athletes, and this year was no different. Below, Jack and Jim get ready to go for a ride (yes, in their matching jerseys).

Emma has been learning new tricks left and right lately. Well, okay... not her right... just her left.

Although gyrating is not mentioned in any of the baby books' lists of developmental benchmarks, she can do a darn good impersonation of Elvis.

And she's saying new words all the time- new words that are impossible to capture on video, it seems. Her latest is, "Uh-oh," as in "Uh-oh, I'm getting ready to cause major trouble... maybe even break something... and laugh while I do it." It's amazing that she's nearly ten months old already. How is this possible?

Emilie, Kindergarten, and Mostly Just Emilie

So Jack is beginning to communicate about his days at kindergarten with a little more accuracy and detail each day. I'm glad for this. It's fun to listen to what happens at school from a five year old's point of view. He sings the music teacher's songs from the backseat. He counts by tens to a hundred and tells me how to make a "shaker" out of uncooked rice and a jug. He tells me that a boy named Frank gets peanut butter and jelly for lunch every single day. And he tells me about Emilie.

I believe we have a crush on Emilie. Chuckle. Here is my evidence:

1) At Grandparent's day, Jack was happy to invite Emilie along to walk around with his Grammie because she didn't have grandparents coming to the event.

2) One day last week, he shared his rest mat with Emilie because she forgot hers at home that day.

3) He is somewhat bitter now towards a little girl, Makaylee, who is also possessive over Emilie's playground time/position in line.

4) He knows what color Emilie wore today.

5) And as he looked out from the bathtub at me this evening, he said, "Mom, right now you look just like my friend, Emilie. I thought you were her!"

Case closed.

Hole In The Wall - Exclusive Preview

My feeling is that Jim and I would take the bank on the Japanese-turned-American gameshow, "Hole in the Wall." For lack of anything better to do, we watched the first episode. (Should I admit that?) Jack, Jim, and I could not help but notice that these initial contestants are going about it all wrong. In fact, watching these people was so very frustrating that we were prompted to get up off the couch and practice. Yes, we would be the champions. Just a thought.

Jump!

This weekend I am reminded of my first grade best friend, Cory, who used to sing Van Halen songs constantly, I remember. His serenading never did convert me into fanhood, and I think I may have even done my fair share of eyerolling toward him, honestly. But he sang with lots of enthusiastic air guitaring, and I listened, gaining early life lessons in "Boys Are Weird." Even so, we were best buds. I was six, I guess, and although that was a long time ago, here I am humming with a nostalgic little smile.

Might as well jump! Jump! Go ahead jump! Jump!

We took the kids to a new place here in town last night called JumpMania. The name fits the venue well. There is a great deal of jumping to be done, and well... mania just comes naturally when kids are exposed to a room full of large, inflatable bouncing opportunities. We had fun. Here are a few shots.

Go 'Noles!

I Need a Nurse Pass

It is the procedure at my workplace to send ill children to the school nurse. One listens sympathetically to the list of symptoms and then records the problem on the standard issue nurse pass. The child then carries the pass, often hobbling for dramatic effect, downstairs to the comforting nurse.

Today, I think I need a nurse pass. On my pass, I would not write "is sure her papercut is infected" or "thinks her ear is going to fall off." I have written complaints not unlike this for children many times, and those children are surely convinced that these problems will very likely shorten their lives. These are serious incapacities, and they do deserve TLC.

But seriously, I think I need a nurse pass today. I find myself scowling. I am sleepy. I am in a bad mood. My neck hurts. My legs are achy. My arms feel heavier than they should. My left shoe is not staying tied. My t-shirt tag is poking my skin. My car is almost out of gas. Orange is really not my color. And I am sad.

While this list is impressive, and I could go on, I think I'll just write: "She knows it's Friday, and even THAT'S not making her feel better." Oh yeah... the nurse will know the seriousness of my condition then.

Secrets

On the way home from school on Friday, Jack leaned in close to my ear to whisper a secret. Before he made this move, he made sure to explain to me that he had this secret, and I was not to tell Daddy about it.

"Okaaay, Jack. What's your secret?"

Shhhh.... Jack can apparently swing all by himself now. He learned at school. Daddy is not to know. Shrug.