Volume XIII, issue i, September and October 2017

Jackson If You're Nast-olgic

Right before Holden flew the proverbial coop to leave the rest of us chickens squawking in sadness at his departure,  we took our traditional end of summer jaunt to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. We've been taking this same outing since Holden was a tiny, bechubbed fellow.

I think we both look a little happier and more comfortable 18 years later.

As we prayed together in the car before we hit the road, Ethan said, "Please bless us that we'll have a fantastic time in Jackson together."

That was the first time I had ever heard someone use the word "fantastic" in a prayer and I grinned to myself because I knew that it was the perfect adjective for our day in the mountains.

Our itinerary is always lovely and consistent. We hike to Taggart Lake and then we cool off at the Jackson Hole Aquatic Center. As you can see, it's getting harder and harder to cram us all into the whirlpool circle.

For dinner, we took the kids to The Lift, which gets great reviews on its hamburgers. The specialty there is called "The B*stard Burger" and I was a little surprised at the ease with which some of my innocent teenagers ordered it without even blushing. Holden confidently ordered his "B*stard Burger" and then gave me a big, gleeful smile from across the table.

We had passed several Elementary Schools on our scenic drive home from Jackson and one of the kids commented on how Elementary Schools always seem to be named after Presidents.

Eric came up with some different, slightly more creative themes:

Ideas of names for elementary schools:

Conflicting Emotions

Joyfule Concern

Admirable Self-Loathing

French Desserts

Éclair

Crème Brûlée

Pain au Chocolat
Le Truc Avec des Raisins Que Personne Aime

I wouldn't mind telling people that I had attended "Crème Brûlée Elementary School," especially if that's what I had gotten to eat for school lunch every day. 

Charlie Au Chocolat

Eric was sneaking some chocolate chips from the pantry when Charlie asked if he could have some too. Eric asked him, “Do you like dark chocolate?”

Charlie answered, “I like all of the chocolates.”

At that point I knew that not only was he ready for first grade, but he was ready to take on the world (especially the best part of the world, which happens to be in Switzerland with all of the Swiss chocolates).

Charlie adores playing with his numerous siblings, but he also likes to have some "Me Time" from time to time. When he wasn't downstairs playing, I went to his bedroom and could hear some shuffling around but couldn't see him, so I called out  “Charlie, where are you?”

A little voice piped up from the closet, saying “I’m in the place I like to be.”

I peeked inside the closet and found him there behind the door, just sitting and relaxing on a big orange snow sled. 

We Can Do Hard Things

Eric can't always hear clearly when we're in a crowded setting with a lot of pesky background noise, which creates hilarious dinnertime entertainment. We were having some homemade roasted red pepper hummus, and Holden asked me, "Is hummus hard to make?"

Eric suddenly sat up straight and passionately threw his hands in the air and cried, "Are you kidding me??? It's the hardest thing I do!" 

There was a long pause as the rest of us tried to process Eric's passionate feelings about hummus until I finally asked, "What do you think Holden said?"

Eric said, "I thought he asked me if grading papers was hard. What did he actually say?"

So now every time hummus graces our table, someone will say, "Are you kidding me? Making hummus is the hardest thing I do!"

Eric and I dragged ourselves to do some last-minute shopping for the Sabbath at about 11:30 on Saturday night. We were exhausted because of the back-to-school schedule and Eric's early classes, so by the time we stumbled into the Dairy Section, we were barely awake. As I was shoving milk and eggs into our cart, Eric grabbed a little package and shouted as if someone had given him a shot of adrenaline. 

He excitedly waved a container full of some sad looking cheese and nuts and dried fruit and meat cubes in my face and said, "Don't you think this would be good?" 

I looked the package up and down and noticed that it had the words "Snack Break" on it.  I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. 

With a double-dose of absolutely sincere exasperation, he said with feeling:

"But. . . it's a SNACK. . . AND. . . a BREAK!" 

With genuine frustration, he looked at me like I had just been shockingly dismissive of some great new culinary invention. 

I tried unsuccessfully to respond to his dismay at my apparent lack of appreciation. 

And then his shoulders slumped and he said, "Wow. I am. . . so tired" and we both started giggling so much that we had to lean into each other to remain upright. 

We just stood there next to the eggs, wheezing and gasping and laughing until our sides hurt. 

There's no one else I'd rather be with in any section of any store. 

Duck, Duck, Goose Egg

Poor Marie had an unfortunate accident while playing Weeping Angel Tag in the dark downstairs that proved that Marie is as tough as Peter's head. She calmly came upstairs after the altercation and her serenity remained static even as her goose egg grew.

Within only a few days of her other injury, Marie performed a very graceful a face plant into the wood chips while playing tag on the playground, and once again, she didn't let the blood or gore chip away at her tough exterior.

Fit to Be Tied
Our ever-creative Ethan decided to expand his repertoire of artistic skills by making himself a sweet blue bow tie. We chose the fabric and huddled together at the sewing machine like two crafty peas in a pod until his project was complete.

Look Out, Molly Ringwald

For the Girls' Choice Dance this month, I was tickled when one of my friends texted me to make sure Ethan hadn't been asked yet so her daughter could ask him. Sigh. . . Cute Grace asked him using candy eyeballs that spelled his name, so he responded with an equally ocular theme. (Notice his choice of t-shirt for the photos.)

 They choose an 80's theme for their costumes and I haven't seen such authentic 80's hair since I peered into my hairspray-doused mirror every day in the 8th grade. 

Now we've apparently recreated the protagonist for every John Hughes movie. (Or it's the ghost of my brother, Tom, who has returned in his 1986 form to haunt the halls of Madison High School. Freaky.) Plus it's, like, totally awesome that Ethan got to dress in an 80's costume because I could teach him exactly how to tuck and roll his pants.