An Arrested Developement: Turtles

One day I woke up and thought , "It would be fun to get a turtle" and TADA! we now own a turtle (this is what usually happens with my acquiring of animals: random, spontaneous impulses) . But it was a struggle to get the little green thing. I found a guy on the internet who was selling baby turtles. He was a college student with a hectic schedule and it took over 30 text messages (doesn't anyone pick UP a phone anymore?) to find a time to pick up the said turtle ! He refused to use the phone other than to text so most of the messages were as follows "What time should I come by?" (me) "?" (him) , "The turtle, when is a good time?" (me) " I'da no--ltr 2morrow" (him), "Can you give me a time?" (me), -whn I'm hme" (him) , This would go on for DAYS! I finally got the baby turtle after staking out his apartment twice until someone came home. Ah.. college days: oblivious freedom. Well, it turns out this turtle has a problem. It is illegal. Any turtle, by Federal Law, cannot be sold if under 4 inches. He is about the size of a large quarter. Apparently, kids tend to swallow small reptiles until they reach 4 inches then decide it may not be a good idea to eat them anymore. And the government made the law after getting sick and tired of paying for all these kids' hospital bills to remove the dead turtles from their stomachs (And I am NOT making any of this up). So, you can't buy them unless you are a certified teacher . Where would you find kids? in a classroom with their teacher and her turtle but that's okay as long as they DON"T EAT IT. This proves once and again our government is being run by a bunch of idiots. So, if the FBI shows up at my door looking for me, my only hope may be to conceal the evidence...by swallowing it.

World Peace Should Be Left Up to Kids

There is a reason Jesus said that to enter the kingdom of God one must be as "a little child". I truly saw the meaning of this statement this week. Kyri has heard about Haiti (who hasn't?) from TV and school. And for the first time, a tragic event elsewhere became real to her. The news is no longer some vague story that Mommy and Daddy are talking about. She is growing up. I have watched as she struggles to understand why the earthquake happened, why are people dying and why did it all happen there and not here. She faithfully pleads with God every night to help "the Haiti people". She spends three hours reading books in her school Read-A-Thon to earn pledge money. I too feel for the people there, but treat it with a "oh well, part of life" attitude while I hesitantly find some money in the budget to send to the Red Cross. But Kyri digs into her piggy bank with ENTHUSIASM to take out half of 3 months of savings and gives it to Haiti. She freely gives and is so convinced that 3 dollars and 26 cents will salve their suffering. There is joy and peace in her efforts; she is happy with the fact she did something to help.. The amount doesn't matter, just the act of willing sacrifice. Why do we adults complicate it all?

Got Milk?

Sometimes, good intentions don't mean good results. We got a goat back in October to try the experience of both goats and goat's milk. Good intention: self reliance. Result: Nada. Yes, we now got a goat named Smores who has been fun in a smelly, loud NAAAA (goat bleating) way. She had twins (Graham and Oreo) that have been fun too. But the milk? Forget it. When Doug and I went to the State Fair last September, we watched a lady milk a goat in 2 minutes flat. Boom! -a gallon of fresh milk and a happy goat. We thought--"we could do that!" and got the goat. She is happy but we are missing that gallon. The problem? I can't get anything to come out! I squeeze and pull and get a trickle. I buy a milking machine and get an even smaller drip. 5 minutes of work...a half a cup of milk. That is not much to do anything with. And the whole time, Smores is looking at me with a "What's your problem down there?" After a month of frustrated yanking on the poor girl, I am about to give up. But, I'll just give up the "Jolynn way"--and buy ANOTHER goat. Then, we'll get to have a cup of milk a day! I can make stuff with a cup...

Missing: Tooth Fairy. Reward if found

Ah... the binds us parents put ourselves in just to create the illusion of magic in our kids' lives. Santa, leprachauns, the boogeyman, even snipes are stories told by us to give an extra thrill to their daily existence. Unfortunately at times, it can be difficult to maintain the illusion. Take the Tooth Fairy for example. Kyri has lost 5 or 6 teeth now, and I struggle to remember to exchange the money for the tooth in time! The last tooth falling out, Kyri came up the next morning and mournfully told me "The Tooth Fairy forgot me again". My heart sunk as I remembered what I had forgot. So, to MAINTAIN that magic, I had to come up with a quick story..."Um, kiddo, I am sure the Tooth Fairy just got backed up with all the extra teeth that come out this time a year and she will get to you as soon as possible." Kinda like those awful phone calls we adults make to customer service people where we are on hold forever while they keep telling us in a nasal voice that "your phone call is very important to is" But Kyri buys this hook, line and sinker and immediantly becomes happy again (kids are so schizophrenic). And I, over the next hour, desperately try and slip the tooth out from under her pillow without her knowing. This is difficult because now she is puppy guarding it to try and catch a glimpse of the tooth fairy (probably to beg her for more money). The whole time, I wonder "Why don't I just tell her the truth? I could just hand her the cash then and be done with it" But I don't say a word. Why? Because I am a Mom and I treasure that look of wonder that comes into her eyes Christmas Eve with Santa or when she bursts through the front door to tell me she saw real fairies hiding in the neighbors flower garden. That is what childhood is; the delights of magic seeping into the humdrum of their lives.

Santa Devotion

One of the most memorable experiences of this last holiday came from my twins, Elora and Tahlia. It was their last day of school before Christmas Break so, of course, their backpacks came home stuffed with every sticky, very carefully politically correct creation they had created in the last month in the public school system. Elora dug out her Christmas card for me first. There were random scribbles (she claimed they were "reindeer") mixed with glitter and stickers all across the folded red construction paper front. I opened it to find a skittery "I Love my Mom" surrounded by more glitter and crayon scribbles. Immediantly, my heart gave a burst of warmth and that crude card became a treasured heirloom. Oh, Motherhood became a wonderful, rewarding life choice! All that lack of sleep, baby weight gainage, doing laundry until midnight was finally worth i!. Life was sweet! I then turned towards Tahlia and her card. Same front, just with the crayon in different spots. I opened it with anticipation and then read... "I Love Santa". And reality came crashing back down again.

Highschool: Do I Know You?

My husband, Doug, unburied our old yearbooks from high school yesterday (we went to the same high school, same year, never met). I decided--on a whim--to look myself up and revisit my whimsical, naive days of youth when I truly knew nothing yet was convinced I knew everything. And to laugh at the weird hairstyles. As I flipped through the pages and read all the comments from friends, I quickly realized I didn't recognize more than a third of the names of my "friends". Even their photos only brought back fuzzy memories. These were kids who sweated through AP classes with me, slaved through late nighters in theater set building and mocked teachers behind their backs with me. Yet, their names meant little. Boy, when we all meet in heaven someday, God better give me perfect recall back because it is going to be mighty embarrassing to have some long lost pal run up to me, shouting my name, to give me a big hug and all I got is "Hi..um who are you again?" That would definitely make Heaven...not.

Sleep Deprieved Dynasty

My toddler, Adreana, controls our lives right now. And she is bound and determined to make it a dictatorship. Her way to power? Sleep. Yes, we don't get to sleep. It is a luxury we crave and she knows it. Occasionally, she will lure us into a false sense of peace with one or two nights of us getting a full night of it. Then, BOOM! she will spring her trap. Adreana will wake up around 2 am (usually in the middle of a great dream) and begin her torture. We will calm her, she will pretend to sleep for about ten minutes. This all part of the plan, you see because it allows us to fall back to sleep. Then, she will scream again and we jerk awake. This process goes on for HOURS. By the next day, we are so zombied she has total control. The CIA could learn from her. Waterboarding? Pansy stuff. Sleep is the key, my friends...slee..(yawn)