i think i've lost another one

As I've mentioned before, my older 2 boys are not fond of the camera. And by "not fond" I mean they treat me like I'm the evil paparazzi and they're the famous movie stars who complain about how I'm invading their sense of privacy. It's not pretty.

But now my 3rd son, Jackson, is headed that way as well. It must be something that happens to boys around puberty. You know along with all those other things. Anyway, this is what happened on a recent walk.

Ugh, There is that camera again. They tricked me. This time Dad has it. I'm going to give him the evil eye to see if he understands how I feel about cameras.

OK. He clearly does not get that my life sucks because of this.

I'm going to try and out-maneuver him.

And fake to the right...now.

Dang it! He's fast for an old man.

I'll just try standing behind mom and that enormous pink scarf she has on.

why did the elephant cross the road?

Do you remember your youth? The time where you stayed up all night with your friends at a slumber party? You know that weird haze that comes over you and you almost feel like you're sleep walking, but you don't dare close your eyes. You laugh. Tell jokes. Maybe get in an argument or two. Then you play truth or dare and realize you're the only one that hasn't kissed a boy yet? Well, that's how I felt in Manhattan last night...minus the truth or dare part.

Jackson (age 11) and I went down to 34th street around 1 am last night to see elephants march down the street. The elephants were from Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus and they were on route to Madison Square Garden. They're unloaded off train cars in Queens and then walk through the midtown tunnel and continue across 34th Street.

It's actually quite a sight. People line up hours ahead of time just to get a spot to watch. Some of these people are quite territorial, too. I won't go into the ugly details, but I got in a bit of a scuffle. A grumpy, old man said Jackson couldn't stand next to him because he had been waiting at that spot longer than we had. If you want to see a kind, quiet Southern woman like myself morph into Teresa from the Housewives of New Jersey, just tell my son he can't stand next to you to watch the circus elephants. If there had been a table there, I would have flipped it over, too.

Did I also mention that it was raining? I don't think rain brings out the best in people.

Jackson and I actually had a blast. It was unbelievable to see traffic stopped so ELEPHANTS could walk down the street. We'll definitely come back next year to see it again.

Here's a short video so you can see what it was like.

Elephants in Manhattan from six in the city on Vimeo.

caution: you might get a cavity just reading this

One of the first things I did when we moved to Manhattan was take Lily to Dylan's Candy Bar. She loved it. I thought I would take her for a repeat visit and invite Jackson (age 11) to come along. This was a little easier said than done.

Jackson is my planner. He likes to gather a great deal of information before he makes a move. Where do we need to go and why? How long will it take to get there? What will be the amount of time spent at our destination? Would we be making any additional stops along the way? Let's just say he does not leave a lot of room in his life for spontaneity. This will be great if his college roommates try to drag him to Tahiti for a weekend, but it does not bode well when I, his own mother, want to take him somewhere.

I thought inviting him to a place to load up on sugar might be different. It wasn't. I answered ALL his trivia question about the journey and he was still hesitant. He just didn't want to go. I told him he would love it. That it was the most amazing candy store ever.

Lily saw I was needing help, so she chimed in: "Come on Jackson! You'll love it so much you will forget your mind!"

I think she meant to say, "You will lose your mind!" But that's a common error, right??

It really is an amazing store. It's 3 stories and has every kind of candy imaginable.

The store has tons of candy bins where you can fill your own bag to your heart's content. Well, to your heart's content at $12.99 per pound.





Here's a tip. Prep your children before you walk in the store that the candy is not free. I didn't think this was necessary until Lily walked up to me with a mouthful of candy.









The store is so whimsical. Giant suckers on the ceiling.



Peeps!



Cookies!



The Easter displays were delightful. I definitely think the Easter Bunny needs to shop here this year.









Even the stairs have candy in them.







Maybe regular candy bars are more your thing. They've got you covered.





Or maybe, you'd like to take a bath in a giant tub of gumballs.



Wait, you're not supposed to do that. And as you can see, my daughter is getting ready to dive in.

We all had a great time. And when we left, Jackson uttered those beautiful words every mother loves to hear, "Mom, you were right."

We ate our candy all the way home. Unfortunately, the sugar high hit Lily while we were still on the bus. Unfortunately, she kicked the bus driver in the shins, too.

So after reading this post, what kind of candy are you craving now?

Jesus and waffles

We walked to church on Sunday.

This might sound charming. It may even conjure up images in your mind of our little family skipping down the streets of Manhattan singing all the way to church. That's the way it goes in my head, too. When I dream.

The reality was the air was a brisk 20 degrees and I couldn't feel my face by the time we stepped into church. Plus, the sibling bickering that happens in a car on the way to church totally still happens walking down the sidewalk. I'm guessing it would still happen if each child had their own unicorn to ride to church, too.

Church was great. It was peaceful and refreshing. Pastor Tim Keller gave an amazing message.

It was Jackson's first time there.
I asked him how he liked his class and he said, "I didn't hate it. Plus I actually learned stuff from the Bible at this church."
Not sure what book he learned from at other churches, but I'm making a mental note to start checking into that a bit more.

When we picked up Lily, her teacher said, "Lily was great today. She is so methodical."
Me: "Uhh....What?"
Teacher: "She's so disciplined."
To which Lily replied, "What's disciplined?"

First of all, I'm always shocked when Lily is able to pull this off with total strangers. How can she be so disciplined at church and not so disciplined at home? (Don't email and tell me the answer to this. I will be humiliated.) Second of all, the fact that she's not sure what the word disciplined means could be where some of our miscommunication stems from.

Do you know what we found after church?



A waffle truck. Yes. It is a truck that makes waffles. Hot, crispy, tasty waffles with all sorts of delicious toppings.








The truck moves around the city and tweets their location so you can find them. I have added them to my twitter list. Wouldn't you if you were here? Something about always knowing where I can find delicious Belgian waffles makes me warm inside. I'll let you know if this gets out of hand.

a whole lot of nothin' going on

I wish the above statement were true, but it's not. It sounds divine doesn't it? "A whole lot of nothin' going on." I close my eyes and think of that statement and instantly I'm transported to a beach in Mexico where a cabana boy named Juan is serving me ceviche with homemade tortilla chips, poolside. Let me clarify "poolside." I am IN THE POOL when he hands me my ceviche and chips. Yes- that would be the epitome of a whole lot of nothin' going on. Eating ceviche. In the pool.

But NOT HERE. No sir. This household has a whole lot of EVERYTHING going on right now. As you know we're preparing for our move to the big city, but we also thought we'd jack our activities up another level because I kinda like the feeling that my head might explode from everything that is going on around me.

Last week, my son Jackson (age 10) accompanied my husband to Ethiopia to check out some of the wells charity:water has built. I didn't mention it last week when they were actually gone because it would have been like I was saying, "HEY INTERNETS! My husband isn't home. Not only is he not home, but he is in another country! Feel free to come on over and terrorize little ol' me!" Actually, I do think I could probably fend for myself. After all, I recently shot my first hand gun and was a pretty good shot. Here is the proof.



Do you see that? A shot right in the jugular, and three to the heart. The jugular, people. That's all I'm saying.

But, back to the Ethiopia trip. It was amazing. Jackson was able to visit remote villages and schools that had recently received clean drinking water. To see the change this made in their daily lives was quite sobering for him. I wasn't able to communicate with them that much because of poor Internet connections. But after about four days of only a brief text or two, I texted Rod and requested a picture. My 10 year old son is ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD. I would like proof of life, please. He was kind enough to answer my request:



It just warmed my heart. I'm so happy my 10 year old experienced Africa. You can't go to Africa and not be changed. There is something about that place. About the people. Africa changes you. I should know because about 25 years ago I spent a summer there with some college friends.




That's me on the right. And yes, my hair was permed. It was the '80s. Enough said. If you were able to zoom in, you'd also see that I was probably in desperate need of an eyebrow wax. Apparently the 80's were for perms and furry eyebrows.

I'm happy to say my husband and son are back home, safe and sound. I have loved hearing all their stories. I'm thankful for the opportunity they had, even if it was at a crazy time in our lives. I'm thankful Africa made an impression on them. I hope we are all able to back there together someday.

PS. I apologize for the excessive use of CAPS in this post. But I have a whole lot of somethin' going on here!

diagnosis drama

Lily (age 6) decided to liven up our weekend by producing a mysterious breathing pattern. She started this on Friday, but I didn't pay much attention to it at first. (She's our 4th. ) She kept taking loooonnnng, deeeeeep breaths, almost like she had anxiety. I know this because I do the same thing- the anxiety.

I even asked, "Are you stressed?" As soon as the words came out of my mouth I realized how absurd the actual question was. What does a six year old have to be stressed about? Her daily life consists of rainbows, unicorns, and bubble baths.

But by Sunday night, the breathing seemed to get more difficult. And Rod was leaving town that night, which means odds are one out of four children will have a crisis while he's gone. I thought I'd nip this one quick and go ahead and take her to Urgent Care. By the way, why do they call it "Urgent Care"? There is really nothing urgent about it. It should be called, "We'll get to you when we darn well feel like it Care. Feel free to sit in our germ-infested waiting room for the entire afternoon."

I passed the time by figuring out which people could possibly have the swine flu and rotating seats to maintain a safe perimeter. Lily had almost figured out how to stick a back flip off the waiting room chair, when they finally called her name. I'm sure she would have conquered that feat if her name had been called about 2.2 seconds later. We marched back to the exam room and waited for the doctor. While waiting, Lily was compelled to do a critique of the exam room decor.

This color green is too "marshy" looking.

I like the curtain, except for the part at the top. That part is really ugly. Why did they do that?

What's with this table?

She was just about to share her thoughts on the poor selection of reading material when the doctor walked in. He checked her out, listened to her lungs, checked oxygen levels, breathing patterns, etc... and could find NOTHING wrong with her. Basically his diagnosis was drama.

As we walked out, I told Lily: "You're fine. There is nothing wrong with you."

Lily: "Of course there's nothing wrong with me."

i'm thinking "mother of the year" is now out of the question

You have to give up some things when you move from suburbia to NYC. Your friends, your large capacity washer & dryer, space to breathe. But nothing compares to giving up your dog.

When we decided to move I knew that Bella might not make the cut. I just could not picture us crammed into a tiny apartment with our little Bichon, Bella- especially if we were in a high rise and blocks away from a park. It just didn't seem practical, doable or even fair to Bella.

I began preparing the kids weeks ago that this would be happening. They seemed to take it in stride. Until the week where I announced I had finally found a good home for Bella. Tears flowed. Not just a few splashes that you dab with the corner of a Kleenex. The kind of tears where snot runs down the face and you need a whole roll of toilet paper to contain the drainage. It was tough. And because Rod is already working in NYC, I was the parent at home that took the blame. Thank you, honey.

"WHY do we have to get rid of Bella?"
(because mommy doesn't want to walk 5 blocks to a park in the rain at 6am to let her do her business.)

"I wish we could keep her!"
(I do too.)

"She was my FIRST dog!"
(Not really, but I understand you want to say that for dramatic effect.)

"I wish GOD wanted us to keep Bella."
(because we all know God trumps Mom.)

The day finally came and we parted with our beloved dog. I thought all was calm until I heard Lily singing this song the next morning. I had her reprise it after school so you could share my pain.



We love and miss you, Bella.

blood or crips?

One of my main concerns about moving to NYC was the schools. I just didn't know what they were like. We have 3 in school this year and I knew private schools would be out of the question. Tuition in Manhattan runs at least $30K per year. Per child. I'm going to say that again in case it didn't sink in. THIRTY.... THOUSAND....DOLLARS per child, per year. My husband works for a non-profit (key word non) so that's not happening for us. Besides, even if I had an extra $30K per kid laying around, I really don't know if I could justify paying that much each year for school. I mean $30K times 3 kids can buy A LOT of Bobbie Brown lipstick. And Starbucks. I'm just sayin'.

So when we decided to move to NYC, I did what every good mom would do. I googled the heck out of the phrase "NYC schools." I found extensive lists of schools, articles, etc....But was pleasantly surprised that NYC has some of the best public schools in the country.

I know what some of you are thinking right now. I would never send my kids to NYC public schools because of THE GANGS. Well, after more research I found out that kids really don't have to declare a gang until their junior year, so we're good for a while.

In all seriousness, there are some really good public schools there. Some great specialty schools for the arts, sports, dance, etc... We're narrowing down our choices, but for now I think I'll stay away from this one:

High School Of Arts, Imagination And Inquiry
122 Amsterdam Avenue Manhattan, NY 10023

WHAT'S SPECIAL: Teaching artists from the Lincoln Center Institute.

DOWNSIDE: School is housed in a windowless basement.

what about the children?

When we tell people we are moving to NYC, we often get the same question. "How do your kids feel?" The question usually comes after a moment of silence and a blank stare. And if the NYC statement is made to some of my sweet, southern family members, they also tend to clutch their chest. After that they just fall on their knees to pray for our souls.

It is a fair question though. How do the kids feel? We have 4 children and Rod and I were really concerned about telling them we were moving. We expected some tears, some possible screams, and a few slammed doors.

But it didn't go down like that at all.

Rod and me: "Kids, we're moving to NYC because Dad got a new job."

Ben (age 17): "Cool! When can we go?"

Bo (age 14): "Saawheett!"

Jackson (age 10): long, long silence and a few sniffs...then he looked up with puppy dog eyes and said, "I would feel much better about this move if I could have my own cell phone."

Lily (age 6): "Can I take my unicorn?"