Thanks.

We were having a slumber party, the kids and I - all piled in the bed together over Christmas Vacation.  Reagan, for some reason, asked me how old I was.

Me: "Well, figure it out."
Colby: "She's 45".
Me: "NO I'M NOT!!!"
Colby: "Well, you're close to 45.  Dad's 45."
Me: "He is.  I'm MUCH younger."
Reagan: "Well then, how old are you?"
Me: "Figure it out.  I was born in 1972, and it's now 2015."
Reagan: "I know, you're 43."
Me: "Yes."
Quinn: "See, Reagan, it went like this.  First there was Adam and Eve.  Then there was Mom."

WHAT???????  EXCUSE ME?????  I get no respect around here. 

On Mary and Joseph

Studying the Nativity story this Advent, and it was brought up that Mary was Joseph's fiancé when she conceived.  Reagan was confused as to how Mary was not considered married, when she obviously had Joseph.

Quinn: "Oh, Mary and Joseph were married when Mary became pregnant."
Mom: "No, they weren't.  He was her fiancé."
Quinn: "That's the same thing, right?  I thought fiancé was French for wife."

Hee hee.  Close, but no cigar. 

The Homemade Kicksled - also known as "chair on skiis".

Colby the Composer

Colby has been composing songs on the piano lately, and doing a fabulous job.  He's got a good ear.  I get the biggest kick out of listening to him.  This one is called "Viking's Throne". 

A Diamonte Poem, By Quinn Aho

Good, Evil
Doing something right or wrong
Sin and dark
God and light
Nice, helpful
Holy

First Middle School Dance

I wasn't going to let them go.  My goodness - they're only 11 years old.  And they WEREN'T going to go, until Mom went to work, and they focused all their evil powers on a susceptible Dad.  He couldn't withstand the pleading, the tears, the drama.  They went.  BUT, being the sMother that I am, I went, too.  Kind of.  Rob and I snuck in after I got off work and "observed" for a little while.  Casual like.   The only parents spying on their middle-schoolers during their first dance.  The boys pretended not to see us, and each danced with one girl (girls look a WHOLE LOT older than boys at 11 years old, by the way).   Then they spent the rest of the night hanging out, milling with their friends, climbing the walls to look cool.... that sort of thing.  Kinda what I remember from junior high school dances.  It was sweet, and I shouldn't have worried like I did.  They were still kids. {{phew}}.  I did feel a little (a lot) out of touch when all those yoots started dancing in unison to some song I had never heard before. but was obviously the latest and greatest thing EVAH.  Think Macarena, 2015 version.  Whatevs.  But then, right after that, something happened that just warmed my ever-lovin' heart.  The DJ cranked "Don't stop believing" by Journey, and all.the.kids. stopped to cheer and sing along at the top of their lungs.  TO JOURNEY.  Circa 1981.  It gave me hope for the future, and I told a nearby chaperone that it did, and she laughed.  We all were just a small town girl, living in a lonely world, who took the midnight train going anywhere. 

It was a bloggable moment, but I didn't take any pictures.  Bad enough that I was there hanging out with them at their first dance, but I DO feel better about all of it now.  Maybe next time I'll even let them stay til the end.  Maybe. 

Dinner Conversation

I hate Mondays.  I really do.  They're miserable.  If we prepared ahead of time on Sundays, maybe they wouldn't be so bad in the morning.  So, tonight at dinner, I tried.

MOM:  "Quinn.  What are you going to do after dinner?"

((blank stare))

Mom: "Practice your trumpet."
Quinn: "Watch America's Funniest Videos."
Mom: "Do your homework"
Quinn: "Watch Once Upon a Time."
Mom: "Pack your lunch."
Quinn: "Ride my scooter."
Mom: "Pack your backpack."
Quinn: "Look on Ebay."

((blank stare.... from Mom this time)..
Quinn: "I feel like we're on the same page here.  Good."